Follow me on Substack:
My personal Substack. Click to read Donna’s Substack, by Donna T Broadway, a Substack publication. Launched 4 days ago.
trying on a metaphor
No title available

Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
Peter Solarz
h

pixel skylines

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!

Love Begins
Keni

blake kathryn

roma★
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

No title available

Kiana Khansmith
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

seen from Türkiye
seen from Thailand

seen from T1

seen from T1
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Lithuania
seen from Thailand

seen from Australia

seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from Thailand
@donnabroadway
Follow me on Substack:
My personal Substack. Click to read Donna’s Substack, by Donna T Broadway, a Substack publication. Launched 4 days ago.
“Your Degree Won’t Keep You Warm at Night”: A Reflection on Patriarchy, Media, and the Cost of Black Women Choosing Ourselves
There has been, for quite some time, a disconcerting campaign, both subtle and overt, by the powers that be to humble Black women, particularly those who dare to step outside the traditional roles assigned to us. It’s as if success, independence, and self-determination are seen not as accomplishments, but as acts of defiance that must be corrected.
The late 90s and early 2000s ushered in a wave of media that seemed designed to do just that: course correct. By then, many Black women had gone to college, built careers, and started making decisions that prioritized their peace, ambition, and autonomy. Many were choosing to remain single, delay marriage, or forgo it entirely. And just like that, television, film, and pop culture began to echo a very specific message: You may be successful, but you’re still incomplete without a man.
We saw this message play out again and again: successful Black women portrayed as bitter, lonely, too picky, or somehow broken. If she finally "chose" a man, usually later in life and with fewer options, she was encouraged to "settle." The rich, well-educated man was often villainized, while the underemployed, spiritually woke, blue-collar man was elevated as humble, righteous, and "the kind of man any woman should want." The message was clear: Your degrees don’t matter. Your accolades can’t love you back. Marriage, of any kind, does.
That “give him a chance” culture has hurt us. We're urged to overlook red flags, accept less than we deserve, and stay in relationships that drain us emotionally, financially, and spiritually, all under the guise of being a Godly wife and fighting for our marriage. Yet we rarely hear stories where a woman "giving a man a chance" turns into a happy ending. More often, it ends in abandonment, betrayal, or survival.
This indoctrination feels less like love and more like punishment, a way to remind women that there are consequences for veering off course.
Take Girlfriends, a show that so many of us loved. The two less successful characters, Lynn and Maya, were the only ones with somewhat stable romantic relationships, until they gained their own success. Once Maya began thriving in her career, her marriage fell apart. Lynn, once carefree and romantically fulfilled, faced relationship challenges once she started to find purpose. Even Toni, the glamorous real estate mogul, found herself entangled with a man who lied about being a successful doctor, his deception justified because she "needed to be humbled." And that man wasn’t just anyone. He was white, rich, and represented the very standard she was told to aspire to. But even he didn’t want a successful Black woman.
The phrase “your degree won’t keep you warm at night” has become almost a proverb, repeated so often that it’s embedded in our collective psyche. But the truth is, neither will disrespect, imbalance, nor a partner who resents your growth.
Black women have long been conditioned, through both patriarchal structures and religious doctrine, to endure, to submit, and to suffer silently, even when it leads to their emotional or physical demise. There remains a dangerous expectation that Black women should protect Black men at all costs, even when those men harm them. There is shame associated with calling the police on a Black man, even in instances of domestic violence. To “snitch” or to expose abuse is framed as betrayal, not survival.
There is a persistent online sentiment that Black women "chose the government" over their men, that they traded family unity for government assistance, housing, and social programs. This belief, which still resonates with many men from that generation and those that followed, distorts the reality of survival. When these programs became available, some women used them not to betray their partners, but to build futures for themselves and their children, especially in cases where those partners were absent, abusive, or unable to contribute.
The 1965 Moynihan Report infamously blamed the "matriarchal structure" of Black families for the challenges Black men faced, rather than addressing structural racism, economic disenfranchisement, or mass incarceration. This narrative positioned Black women as too dominant, too powerful, too independent, failing to consider that many had no choice but to lead and provide. They used what was available to gain job training, find affordable housing, and establish a foundation for their children. Meanwhile, many men, whether due to systemic barriers or personal failings, were left behind. And based on the recent social media conversation about Black men not going to college, they are still struggling to catch up.
The gap isn’t just economic; it’s emotional, spiritual, and cultural. Black women started choosing themselves, choosing safety, peace, and autonomy over the illusion of unity that required their silence and sacrifice. That choice has not been without consequence. It has fractured households, fueled resentment, and contributed to a deep sense of mistrust.
But things are never linear, and there is no one-size-fits-all explanation. Not every man abandoned his family. Not every woman left her man behind. But the collective trauma of being expected to suffer quietly while carrying the load of the family and the community has left many Black women weary.
And so I wonder—what’s the solution?
Are Black women not supposed to pursue education, financial independence, or healing? Are we supposed to pause our dreams and ambitions in the hope of finding a partner who may never come? Are we to remain in unhealthy, lopsided relationships in service to patriarchy, just to avoid being called lonely, difficult, or bitter?
Especially when, statistically, many men refuse to coparent or pay child support if the romantic relationship ends. Are women supposed to sacrifice safety and stability, ours and our children’s, for the illusion of partnership?
Black women have long been expected to protect, submit, and suffer in silence, even when it leads to our own undoing. We are taught to stay loyal to a community, to men, to institutions that are not always loyal to us. For decades, we’ve carried everyone else’s burdens while being told that our own are irrelevant.
But something shifted when women started choosing themselves. And while the road ahead isn’t always clear, choosing ourselves must remain an option. Not as punishment, but as preservation. Because we deserve more than survival, we deserve joy, safety, and peace. Even if we have to build it on our own.
Dollar Drinks and Recession Dreams
I was 22 when the great recession hit. And while Gen Z is asking millennials how we handled it, hoping to get advice in order to prepare for the one we’re in or the one that’s likely coming, I’ll be honest: that might be a better question for Gen X or the Boomers. Most of us millennials were new adults or still teens back then, between 13 and 25, and the majority of us were broke in our twenties.
We didn’t have assets to lose. And while broke is still broke, things were cheaper. You could go out on a Friday night, hit a club with free cover, pregame with your friends, split a bottle, and still only spend $20 for the whole night. The after-party might’ve been a stop at a fast food restaurant or a local diner and then going back to your friends room or apartment and just chilling, drinking what was left from the earlier pregame, recapping the nights activating, and just vibing because it was about who you were with, not what it looked like online
And if you want to truly understand what it meant to be young and broke in the late 2000s/early 2010s, look no further than this line from Pitbull and Ne-Yo’s “Time of Our Lives”:
"I knew my rent was gonna be late about a week ago. I work my ass off, but I still can't pay it though."
That lyric sums it all up. Bills were sometimes late. Credit was shot. Sometimes you robbed Peter to pay Paul. Ate dollar pizza. Or just slept for dinner. But somehow, the rent got paid, usually right before eviction court.
And yeah, that $20 to get into the club line? That was real, too. If your rent was $900 and you were short ‘til the next check, spending $20 wasn’t going to make the situation worse, so you might as well call your friends and have a good time and the honest part of being young and broke is that you may have done that a few times until life balanced out. It was life.
Then one day, things changed. Hard work finally started paying off. That internship may have finally turned into a job, you finally finished with all of your schooling and started making real money, or you got a promotion for work you've already been doing, the 20s are for hustling and fun and if you're lucky, a bit of puppy love. We made it work, leaned on each other, and got through it, not because it was easy, but because it's life. That’s just part of life's growing pains.
The 20s are used to building the foundation for the life you want to live and for the first time, you're just realizing how expensive life is, that the lights didn't just turn on on their own, that food didn't just appear in the fridge, and that we didn't simply stay in the house because the people liked us; that those things cost money and as adults, usually by 25, the free ride was done and even if we still lived with our parents, we were expected to work and contribute because we were adults and that's what adults did.
Growing pains are apart of life but this feels different. It feels more intentional. Things are more expensive and out of reach for younger people, even starter homes and cheap apartments are out of the price range for most young adults, especially as wages have remained stagnant.
When I graduated college in 2008, jobs were scarce. Friends who chose “safe” majors like computer science or accounting were working retail. People were underpaid. And when I attended the 2009 graduation, the class was half the size and the empty chairs made the economic reality very obvious. Still, the recession felt…shorter. By 2009, most of my circle had landed their “real” jobs. I survived off $16.50 an hour, alone, no roommates, bills paid. Life was a little bit more affordable. I could walk into any store and get an entire outfit for less than $50, a dress, shoes, and accessories, usually a chunky necklace and still have enough change left over to get something to eat. Day trips cost a tank of gas. The dollar menu still existed and food was cheaper. I don't know if it's nostalgia and while things weren't perfect, they were definitely cheaper.
Today, I think a lot of Gen Z is struggling not just because of the economy, but because of the pressure to make it look good and consumerism. I can open my phone at any time and spend $100 in less than 5 minutes on things I don't need simply because an influencer is selling it to me.
There are too many 20, and 30 somethings, booking trips they can’t afford with people they barely know just to post the content online in hopes of going viral, that’s a different kind of "interesting." The key to enjoying the broke twenties is doing it with people you actually like. But social media has a lot of people choosing “vibes” over real relationships.
At the risk of sounding like a boomer, it really is the phones. Club culture was different when the only people who saw your pictures were your friends and maybe your nosy aunt on Facebook. Now, people aren’t going out to relax or enjoy the moment—they’re going out to curate content. You can’t fully let go when you’re constantly being filmed without consent or wondering where that video will end up.
There was something beautiful about the 2010s and early 20s life: low money, big dreams, and rich memories. We knew we were building. We believed our little apartments would one day become homes, and our ramen dinners would turn into steak nights with friends. Gen Z deserves that same optimism, but it’s harder to believe that when things are falling apart, they're forced to keep up an image and things are intentionally made harder, jobs are scarce, wages are stagnant and everything is more expensive but I hope things stabilize and they get to have broke fun. Every generation deserves the chance to believe in their future. I hope the babies, Gen Alpha, Gen Beta and even Gen Z find a way to have their broke 20s, young, full of optimism, resourceful and resilient.
The discussion on TikTok about Black boys and college is becoming exhausting. What started as a good-faith conversation has devolved into victim-blaming, excuse-making, and gender wars. Instead of discussing real solutions to level the playing field and help our boys, all I’m hearing is that the problem “starts at home,” tied to generational trauma and triggers.
The most common argument, that Black boys are foregoing college because they grow up in fatherless homes and need to make money quickly, only highlights the failures of previous generations, which now include us as millennials. As we move further into adulthood, parenthood, and even grandparenthood, we must ask ourselves: What are we doing, as the elder generation, to help the next generation succeed where we have failed?"
If a child has to take on financial burdens or assume 'man of the house' responsibilities before adulthood, then both parents have failed. Children should be allowed to be children, and it is our responsibility as parents to ensure they have the financial and community resources they need to thrive.
Take the tragic case of the mother who lost her children to hypothermia. At least three generations were living in that car, the grandmother, aunt, mother, and several children. While economic hardship is real, I struggle to understand how five able-bodied adults couldn’t pool their resources to afford $1,500 in rent and $500 in electricity. Maybe that’s my privilege speaking, but the fact that their only perceived solution was social services points to a much deeper issue, a generational breakdown in stability, resilience, and resources.
The argument, at its core, is that Black boys aren’t going to college because they are being failed, while Black girls are going despite being failed in the same ways. Black girls see education, even with the debt, as a way out, while Black boys, even with good intentions, often stay where they feel they are needed.
There are systemic failures—Black boys are disproportionately suspended, arrested, and disenfranchised compared to their peers. But as a mother, I also have to ask: Are we fighting hard enough for our children? Too often, we show up at the end of the problem instead of at the beginning, where our presence could make the most impact. How are we helping our boys avoid the pitfalls set for them? If college isn’t the path, how are we setting them up for success?
For generations, Black excellence has been met with violence and suppression, making mediocrity feel like the safer option. But we are not a people who simply devalue education and success, we are a people who have been denied access to it, punished for pursuing it, and conditioned to believe that survival is more important than success. Still, we owe it to ourselves and future generations to push past that fear, reclaim our right to education, and create pathways to success on our own terms.
Having kids for the "plot" has been a thing since forever. Large families were the norm in prior generations because of a lack of birth control, entertainment, and a need for extra hands or income. Childhood and adolescence that is meant to be enjoyed, is a fairly new concept, only originated after the second world war when families had more disposable income and didn't need children to work to support the household and girls weren't married off because families couldn't support them. Kids being able to be kids and enjoy their youth, is a new concept. All I'm saying is that procreation has always been for a reason. In more recent years, with the advent of voyeurism culture, reality TV, social media, the most popular videos are the ones that center around the subjects personal life: engagement, relationship, weddings, birth, milestone moments, family drama, infidelity, break ups, divorces, etc. There are rumors that a reality star who is waning on their story line, will have a new child because that means two years of "storylines," the pregnancy and all the changes that causes, the birth, and the changes that come with having a new baby. Kids can be great storylines.
Having children young can be a trauma response. A girl having a baby before she's had her first high school test can be a trauma response. An adolescence experiencing birth before they have experienced puberty, is definitely a problem. We need to recognize the trauma that often comes with the some of these families while acknowledging that new things need to be done. Having a lot of kids in hopes of getting love and attention, even if negative, is a trauma response that needs to be addressed. So many people online excuse people living in their trauma and brokenness because of their trauma but would you excuse the same thing if it had a physical symptom, such as an infection, stench, or broken bones? The kids are often the physical symptoms of this trauma and it is almost guaranteed, that one of the children will recreate the cycle. When I was working at DSS and child support, oftentimes the parents of the woman seeking services would have a case.
The women who started having kids as adolescents because they feel unloved and forgotten, is no different than a young man creating broken homes. There is a statistic, whose source I cannot seem to place, that says black men have less children than black women, so this means that only a small group of irresponsible black men are impregnating irresponsible black women. That doesn't make sense. Creating children you cannot or will not take care of is still trifling and detrimental to the black community that so many people say is in turmoil.
A woman and a man choosing to recklessly procreate is a symptom of the same trauma, although the outcome may be different.
Anthony Edwards is the product of a broken home and although he is immensely talented and extremely wealthy, is creating broken homes, it doesn't matter that he can pay for them or that he asked Ayesha to have an abortion. Just because he can afford to abandon his child doesn't mean its right and too many men are seeing it as an uno reverse card and I see it as a trauma response. Why not protect your seed? Why sleep with random women, especially when in a relationship, without protection if you don't want the kids? Anthony Edwards has two other kids with the same story but people seem to forget that and I bet if he asked his father his story, which so many men want us to do on social media to justify their abandoning their children, it would be the same, just without the money and the fame.
Part of responsible family planning is knowing when to say when and this is different for every family and person. While some people can handle large families, people like myself, are tapping out at two children and although social media can be polarizing and everyone wants to see themselves as the exception, both are okay. It's okay to have large families and it's also okay to have small families, or no families. One woman said she realized she needed to stop having children because she realized they weren't filling the void and not only that, she realized she was hurting them more than she was helping them, so she stopped having children, got a job, advanced in her career, got married and then had more children. I am unsure about therapy but at some point it has to stop. Anthony Edwards, and many men like him, are going to have to stop blaming women for creating broken homes and women, are going to have to learn how to protect their wombs.
The Cost of Avoidable Parenthood: Why We Must Normalize Family Planning
The discussion of the day is DDG and Halle and all of their drama. DDG is claiming Halle won’t let him see Halo, while Halle is stating she and Halo are sick. DDG also dropped a “diss track” complaining about not being able to see his son, while also stating he won’t go to court. There is a lot to be said, and the baby is here and adorable, but I hate to say this situation was entirely avoidable. Just because you have sex with someone does not mean you need to have living, breathing proof of that. It is okay to enjoy someone without a permanent reminder. While it’s too late to say Halle shouldn’t have had a baby with DDG, it is questionable that she became a mother just as her career was taking off. This doesn’t mean her career is over, but having a child in an industry that requires long hours, extensive travel, and a degree of selfishness is an undeniable challenge. Any mother would want to put her child first, but that comes at a cost in a field where time and youth are king and there is always a new young, hot, single, and childless person ready to take your spot. While Halle may not regret her baby, it would be hard not to notice that her career has slowed down considerably since having her baby, although she is still famous and working, who knows if Halle can regain the momentum from being in two of the biggest movies of the year, having an album, and just being that girl. No one wants to be more famous for having drama than their art.
And there is no bigger cautionary tale than Cardi B, who went from being the biggest female rapper and having the first number 1 and winning Grammy's to being more famous for fighting with Offset. I'm not saying it's not okay to have it all but it's okay to be young, hot, famous, and in love without a baby. If Cardi wanted to marry Offset, she could have done that without a baby. There are people who get married simply because they want to be not because they got pregnant or are "trying to do the right thing."
We’ve Lost the Plot on Family Planning
Somewhere along the way, we demonized birth control and family planning while normalizing “baby mama/baby daddy” drama. It has become more acceptable to monetize arguing over child support and custody, or to make your entire online presence about your deadbeat baby father, than to have real conversations about preventing unwanted pregnancies in the first place. Too many men feel comfortable saying they don’t want to pay child support. Too many women are left raising children alone. And worse, too many children suffer abuse and neglect from parents who were never ready to be parents. We hear too many heartbreaking stories of kids being harmed by their mother’s new boyfriend or their own mothers, all because people failed to think ahead.
Responsible planning is a must. There are too many broken people walking around with unresolved trauma because they were never truly loved by the people who were supposed to love them. Too many divided families where the younger siblings get the best version of their mother because she became stable later in life, or where children grow resentful watching their father love the kids he had with a woman he actually wanted. No one should walk away from their children, but the reality is, this cycle will continue unless we do better.
The Fear-Mongering Around Birth Control
People have allowed misinformation, fear-mongering, and political agendas to turn birth control into a taboo subject. Instead of seeing it as a responsible and necessary tool, too many believe it’s unnatural, unsafe, or a sign of promiscuity. The irony is that the alternative—unplanned pregnancies, absent fathers, financial struggles, and unstable households—is far worse. The conversation should not be about whether birth control is bad, but about how devastating life can become when it’s ignored and this is beyond pro life and pro choice. Deciding when to have children shouldn't be political. If we plan ahead, then deciding between terminating an unwanted pregnancy or a lifetime of drama shouldn't even be on the table.
We need to shift the focus back to reality: Pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting should be intentional and planned. There’s no reason why, in 2025, people should still be having children they can’t afford or don’t want. Men and women both have control over reproduction. If you don’t want children, then put on your big boy or big girl panties and make some choices. If you're old enough to lay down, you need to be mature enough to stand up and take some precautions.
Parenthood Should Be a Choice, Not a Consequence
Pregnancy, childbirth, and child-rearing are supposed to be beautiful, life-changing experiences. They should not be accidents that have to be rectified or lifelong burdens that make people miserable. No one should have to panic over a positive pregnancy test, spend nine months arguing with the other parent, or wonder how they’ll afford diapers and formula. Your biggest concerns during pregnancy should be the pregnancy itself—not financial stress, family conflict, or an absent partner.
Children should be born into love, not chaos. They should never be used as punishments for having sex or reminders of poor decisions. Every child deserves to be wanted, cherished, and raised in a stable environment. And that starts with making better choices before conception.
We have to stop acting like unplanned pregnancies are inevitable when we have so many options to prevent them. It may not always be easy, but it is possible—and it’s time we normalize responsible family planning again.
Let's talk about hazing
RIP Caleb Wilson. My deepest condolences to his family, friends, and loved ones.
There is no reason why a parent should send a healthy young person to college, only for them to come back disfigured—or worse, for their family to be planning a funeral instead of a graduation or wedding.
I won’t pretend to know every detail about hazing, nor will I claim to know everyone’s business. But what I do know is that hazing is far too common, and the stories are too similar for it to be dismissed as just a few rogue members.
No one should be subjected to sexual, mental, emotional, or physical abuse simply because they want to join an organization. No one—male or female—should be forced to perform sexual acts to raise money for dues or as part of a set. There are too many stories for this not to be true; the only difference is that people haven’t named names.
When people talk about denouncing organizations or calling them demonic, they often miss the real issue. The problem isn’t the rituals outsiders speculate about—it’s the abuse happening behind closed doors. Beating someone, forcing them to have sex, touching their private parts, or demeaning them is not just cruel; it is sadistic and deeply evil.
Many of those who speak out—whether through lawsuits or social media—aren’t outsiders reading ritual books. They’re people who have suffered but stay silent out of fear. It’s easier to say, "This organization no longer aligns with my spiritual beliefs," because that excuse is more palatable than admitting, "I left because my process was traumatic, and I was abused." Unspeakable things happen to pledges, many things known but many just whispered.
Ask yourself: If you read the raw police report, charging documents, or a lawsuit about hazing, and it wasn’t tied to a beloved organization. That it was a case about child abuse, domestic violence, or even animal cruelty, how would you react? If the details involved forcing someone to drink toxic substances, beating them to the point of hospitalization, or humiliating them to the brink of psychological collapse, would you still defend it? The majority of people would be outraged and angry and would call for change but when its tied to hazing, they often blame the victims or say "that never happened to me." Same with women in abusive relationships. People are so quick to defend the man or say it never happened and call the accuser a liar, instead of giving grace and at least being quiet about the allegations, even if they seem unbelievable.
I am appalled by how some people talk about hazing victims. “I love myself too much for that.” “I know my worth.” “It could never be me.” These statements are just another form of victim-blaming. And the silence within these organizations only reinforces the cycle of abuse. People don’t speak up because they fear being blackballed, not just in college, but in life. These organizations have powerful members, and one phone call can mean lost opportunities, lost community, and a ruined reputation.
And let’s not pretend that the consequences are real. Expelled members still attend events, still claim their letters, and still blend into the community. One former Delta Sigma Theta member said, “They can kick me out, but they can’t take their secrets back. They can’t stop me from strolling or hanging with my sisters.” Clearly, she didn’t care, and the reality is that few people will confront an expelled member about continuing to claim affiliation.
Even when people are caught, they’re rarely held accountable. Universities, and local police departments, often lack real evidence because no one will talk, and when they do, it’s often one or two scapegoats taking the fall for an entire system. How is it that only one person is held responsible for hazing 12 pledges? That doesn’t happen without a network of people enabling it.
The truth is, there are too many people involved in hazing for only a handful to get caught. I believe the few who do face consequences are often scapegoats protecting alumni with too much to lose.
And yet, people are more concerned about protecting the organization’s reputation than mourning the lives lost. I saw a comment section where people were more upset that hazing members would never be able to return “home” for homecoming or anniversaries than they were about the victims who will never come home at all.
If my daughters ever expressed the desire to join a sorority, I would tell them to look closely at a chapter’s history. If they have a pattern of getting suspended, reinstated, and suspended again within a short period of time, and even a few expulsions, then maybe it’s best to focus on school and consider joining a graduate chapter later.
Pay attention to chapter history. Most undergraduate chapters bring in a line once or twice a year because students graduate. Grad chapters, on the other hand, can sometimes go a decade without initiating new members because they have a steady membership base. But if an undergrad chapter consistently goes two or three years without bringing in a line, be wary. That often means the graduate chapter or regional director found hazing allegations credible enough to impose unofficial sanctions while waiting for members to graduate.
Listen to the rumors. Read between the lines. If a chapter has a reputation for hazing, or if people express concerns about you joining, pay attention. Most rumors contain some truth—it’s just that no one wants to be the one to confirm it.
And finally, be cautious if older alumni, especially those not serving on the graduate advisory, or membership committee, are heavily involved in the process. Why are they there? If they’re not part of the intake process, they shouldn’t be anywhere except rush, the final induction ceremony, the luncheon, and the probate. Their presence anywhere else should raise red flags.
Hazing is not “tradition.” It is abuse. And if an organization can only retain a quarter of its members, or if too many people disappear right before or after initiation, there’s a bigger problem at play. No amount of reactivation efforts or retention initiatives will bring back members who associate their time in the organization with the worst period of their lives.
How can you expect sisterhood or brotherhood with someone who spent months beating you, humiliating you, or pushing you to the brink of physical exhaustion? How can someone bow their head in prayer or recite an oath when the person standing beside them is the same one who cut their hair, screamed in their face, hit them, or kicked them?
There needs to be real accountability. Not just fines, suspensions, or expulsions that wealthier members can pay off—but actual legal consequences. Because until that happens, nothing will change.
The wedding
Jenaiah almost didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She was wearing a long-sleeved, mermaid-style dress with a sheer collar adorned with pearls and diamonds. It was this or a princess dress, but something about this one spoke to Jenaiah It was simple yet elegant, exactly how she wanted her new life to be. She was done with Hollywood, done with celebrity, done with influencing. She wanted to raise her son in a normal life, with a normal man, in a normal neighborhood, and have a normal marriage. Jenaiah was ready for normal. She needed normal.
Ms. Priscilla fluffed Jenaiah's dress. Over time, their relationship had evolved from an icy alliance to something mother-daughter-like. When Ms. P found out Jenaiah was engaged, she immediately put together a binder and started picking out colors. She and Mr. Terrance practically paid for the wedding, even though Jenaiah could afford it. They insisted, and she didn’t mind. Ms. P was the closest thing she had to a mother and the closest thing her son would have to a grandmother. Why not let them help?
Priscilla smiled warmly. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Jenaiah replied, trying to smile but feeling an unexpected tightness in her chest.
Deep down, Jenaiah wanted this to be a movie. She wanted the love of her life to realize his mistake and come crashing through the door to stop the wedding. But she knew that would only happen if someone wrote it that way. If seven years of living and working together, plus a child, hadn’t made Jacob choose her, he wasn’t going to burst in to save her now. Ms. P was right—this was her best option. Jeremy was strong, God-fearing, hardworking, and didn’t care about her money. He loved her son, and he loved her. Jenaiah liked him.
Did she love him? That was a more complicated question. She thought she loved Jacob once, and that didn’t end well. Love was the icing on the cake, not the cake itself. Jenaiah could learn to love Jeremy, but for now, she liked him. She enjoyed his presence, his company, their time together. That was enough. She couldn’t let her feelings stand in the way of the happiness and family she might never have again.
Jacob was married now. He had a life with Karina, a life that didn’t include her. He barely made time to see Jo, though the $55,000 check hit her account every month. Everyone assumed Janaiah got pregnant because the likes were dwindling, and, truthfully, she would be lying if she didn’t admit the money was a nice cushion. She didn’t need it, but deep down, Janaiah still hoped Jacob would choose her, would do right by her. When she saw the photo of him proposing to Karina— who was wearing her best surprised face only days after Janaiah had found out she was pregnant—Janaiah knew it was over.
She packed a bag and went to Bali for a few days to clear her head, to prepare for an abortion. Surely, she would be crazy to keep a baby by a man who saw her only as an outlet. But when she saw the little dot and heard the heartbeat, she knew she couldn’t go through with it. She kept the pregnancy to herself, holding it together as Jacob and Karinaa held hands at the gala, waves of nausea from more than just the baby sweeping over her. Janaiah fulfilled her contractual obligations, went dark on social media, downsized her house to something more manageable, and decided to keep everything to herself. Baggy shirts, oversized dresses, mocktails, constantly drinking water, she never went out and if she did, she made sure she was never in pictures of that the angles were just right. Of course some people immediately knew what it was but most of her fans argued the observant ones in the comments stating she was beautiful or she had the right to gain weight. If only they knew.
Then Phillip saw her at the pier, belly and all, and next thing she knew Jacob was at her door, but he didn’t understand what she had done for him. She had freed him. He didn’t owe her or her son anything anymore. Janaiah could take care of them both.
The hairstylist carefully placed the veil on Janaiah's head and smoothed out a few flyaways. The makeup artist applied a final touch of neutral lip gloss, a stark contrast to the berry red she usually wore. It was different, but Janaiah liked it.
"You cannot marry a man who you love more than he loves you," a voice echoed in her mind.
Janaiah sat on the ottoman, playing with one of her curls. She was really doing this. Was she really getting married?
I find it interesting but not surprising that in the fallout and the public chatter about the sexual abuse allegations against Fox Sports, namely Skip Bayless, that main talking point is about Joy Taylor and the claims that she allegedly slept her way to the top and planned to use rape claims to get her way if executives reneged on their promises to her or if she didn't get promised jobs or promotions. The fact that Skip Bayless offered $1.5 million for a night with the plaintiff or that there were other participants, seems to shadow the fact that this beautiful woman allegedly slept with multiple people at Fox Sports, even so much so, that internet sleuths are digging through years old tweets to find evidence of her relationship with Emmanuel Acho.
Disclaimer: I do not believe in infidelity or dating married men but if you're going to do it, consider it a business arrangement. This list is for any young girl who wants to use their body to get ahead. Move forward at your own risk.
Don't forget you are the other woman- if this man is established enough in his career to help you get ahead in yours, he is probably much older than you and married. No matter your motivations, remember you are the other woman and you come second. Keep your indiscretions minimal. Keep your mouth shut, be respectful to his wife, do not interfere with family time, don't interact with his kids unless it is unavoidable and even then, keep it as brief as possible. Most of all, don't expect him to leave his wife and family for you. Take the gifts, trips, and money at face value and when its over, leave quietly. You're a woman in an unequally balanced situation, causing a fuss about a relationship you willingly entered is not going to do anything but make you look bad, know your role and shut your mouth.
Do not get pregnant-Getting pregnant is the quickest way to ruin your career before it even starts. You, as the side chick, becoming pregnant will cause a scandal, potentially ruin his life with a divorce, damage his reputation which will ruin your bag because if he no longer has his job, connections, or reputation, then you can't use those things to benefit you and not only are you back at square one, you're back at square one with a baby to support. Don't do that. You can always fall in love and have a family later but right now, you're using beauty and brains to get ahead, don't lapse on your birth control.
Don't lapse on your qualifications- whatever your motivations are, sleeping to the top only works if you're qualified and have the work ethic to sustain it. I'm sure many women have worn tight dresses to the office in hopes of being noticed and they do but when they get the attention and opportunity, they're not qualified. Remember, you're smart, hot, and this is only a pitstop on your way to your goals. You don't want allegations of "sleeping your way to the top" to follow you. The quickest way to confirm that you "slept your way to the top" is being inept at your job. You cannot ask for a promotion and you're not qualified. It's like the people who put "expert in excel" on their resume and then when they get a stack of spreadsheets, they're panicking and googling what to do. You need to be qualified for the job you're asking for. If you're qualified, hard working and can get the job on your own merit but the association is simply a push, why not? There is nothing wrong with benefiting from a personal relationship. People do it all the time.
Don't be the office hoe- While it is not unheard of for coworkers to date, especially since they're more likely to be young, hot, ambitious, and spending a lot of time together because they work a lot but being the office pass around and spending time with multiple executives is the quickest way to ruin your reputation. If you're going to engage in these types of behavior, it is best to lock into one executive and build that relationship, instead of bouncing around to see what sticks.
Don't fall in love- you are not the first, the last, or even the only one in the relationship. This is strictly a business arrangement. He doesn't love you and you don't love him. You are here for a good time and not a long time. Enjoy his company, get the perks, know your place, and when the arrangement runs its course, bow out gracefully.
Don't leave without something to show with you- there is a saying that goes " a wet purse and a dry bottom don't match." If you're going to engage in this, make sure you get something tangible for your efforts. Allegedly, Kamala Harris heavily benefited from her rumored relationship with powerful California politician Willie Brown, to the point where he bought her a Mercedes, helped orchestrate her move from the Alameda DA's office, helped her gain appointment on two boards which garnered her an additional salary of $90,000 a year, which was supplemental to her DA salary, and even after the arrangement ended, he helped navigate her career to second highest office in the nation. Don't fall for the carrot or empty promises, this is a business arrangement. You are dating him because he's powerful, established, and well connected, he's dating you because you're young, hot, and full of potential, this is a symbiotic relationship. By the time it ends, you need to have the ability to move on, be it with connections or experience.
Do be prepared for the fallout- if this arrangement ever goes left, you become pregnant, or someone becomes suspicious, remember that you have the most to lose. A man who is powerful enough to make your career, has probably made a lot of people a lot of money and has a lot connections, which means he will land somewhere, but you may lose your reputation and become a pariah of sorts. Also know, that if you are married or in a serious relationship, there is a high chance that your partner will end the relationship but his wife will more than likely stay with him. Like I said in the previous bullet point, you are not the first or the last and she's survived the other women, which mean she will survive you.
I didn't compile this list because I believe in infidelity or that I think a woman should depend on depreciating assets such as youth and beauty to get ahead in life and their careers but the reality is, in every generation, it is rinse, cycle, repeat, women think they can outwit and outplay patriarchy and hundreds of years of traditional family values and that they will be the exception. Everyday women start affairs and scandalous relationships and are somehow shocked that they are the only ones who are left with the long term negative ramifications. They are the ones with the damaged reputations, broken relationships, outside children that are left behind, and stalled career while often, the man is able to go back to his wife after a period of reconciliation or even if they divorce, find someone else and move on, women aren't so lucky, so while I am not condoning this, if women are going to do it, they should do it with the full expectation that this may or may not work and if it doesn't, that it may cause long term consequences.
Beautiful liar
I am a habitual liar. There, I said it. But I am not alone—many of us lie daily. We learn early on that the truth often brings pain, inconvenience, or disbelief, so we resort to lies to avoid uncomfortable consequences. I can’t give you statistics on how often people lie, but I’d venture to guess that most of us do it hundreds of times a day. Think about it: “How are you doing?” “Fine.” “Would you like this?” “No.” “Did you see this?” “No.” “Do you have anything to add?” “No.” “Did you like it?” “Yes.”
These are the “little white lies,” the harmless ones designed to keep the peace, avoid ruffling feathers, or simply get by. But the question remains: are these lies actually hurting us?
When American Idol debuted in 2002, it became an instant sensation, partly because of Simon Cowell’s brutal honesty. Many contestants, it seemed, had been told by friends and family that they could sing, only to realize that wasn’t the case. Cowell’s no-holds-barred critiques were refreshing, even if they were tough to hear. Looking back, he wasn’t mean—he was just telling the truth, in a world that often thrives on lies. Despite the anger he provoked, Cowell’s straightforwardness revealed something important: sometimes, honesty is more valuable than kindness, and the truth is less cruel than we think.
To truly achieve what we want in life, we must first be honest with ourselves. “Honesty is the best policy,” they say, but sometimes, telling the truth feels dangerous. A simple Google search for “should I tell the truth about_?” will show dozens of results advising people to lie or omit the truth to avoid conflict. The reason people lie is often rooted in immediate benefits—whether it’s sparing someone’s feelings or avoiding personal loss. At work, for example, many lie during surveys or exit interviews, fearing that telling the truth could lead to retaliation or even job loss.
But here’s the thing: a lie is just a temporary solution. The truth always comes out. Sometimes, the lucky ones may never see the consequences, but eventually, lies unravel. A secret that starts with one person quickly spreads, and it’s impossible to keep it hidden for long. Consider the rise of DNA testing services like 23andMe. Family secrets, once thought safe, are being revealed—not by the person holding the secret, but by distant relatives who take a test. Secrets rarely stay buried.
Telling the truth to yourself, though, is liberating. It’s a form of freedom—acknowledging reality lets you plan your next steps with clarity. It helps you build meaningful relationships, put things in perspective, and gives you the courage to start over if necessary. The truth isn’t always easy, but it’s the only path to genuine growth.
The Reset Pt. 2
The waiter sets Eva’s soup down.
The clanking spoons, mindless chatter, laughter, and fast steps all add soundtrack to Eva’s racing thoughts.
How was Lydia alive and her aunt dead? What happened? Was this a separate “Thank you,” she says, as the waiter walks away. Eva mindlessly stirs the white, creamy liquid, her eyes skimming through articles about “Crispin 5.” Elliot, Rian, Elena, Ashley, and Lydia. All smiling. All dead. She flips through the case files, her gaze lingering on the cryptic placement of their bodies. Obituaries. Interviews with family members. Photos of crying classmates. Pictures from the funerals—a joint service, since the five were close friends, and the town found it easier and cheaper to have them all in one place at one time, avoiding confusion and scheduling conflicts. Eva watched all of this from a distance. Now, she’s back in 2024, and seemingly, all the Crispin 5 are gone—except Lydia. She was swapped for her aunt, and Eva has no idea how or why. Everyone just assumed she was crazy.
A black leather booklet slides in front of her. Eva opens it, expecting it to be from the waiter, who’s probably tired of her sitting there, poking at her soup. She hasn’t ordered anything except the soup, a Diet Coke, and breadsticks. She’s not hungry, but it’s the lunch rush, and the waiter likely wants to clear the table for higher-paying customers.
But when she opens it, there are small, crumpled newspaper clippings about the Crispin 5. But this time, instead of the same articles she’d stolen from her 2006 archive, there’s a picture of her aunt on the front page.
Eva looks up. The small woman is heading toward the door. Eva gathers her things, dropping a $20 bill on the table—far too much for the meal, but the waiter will have a nice tip—and hurries after her.
“Hey!” Eva calls, trying not to drop any of the poorly gathered papers. The woman speeds up. “Stop. I’m trying to help you. We’re both doing the same thing.”
“You can’t help me. Let it go,” the woman replies, her voice soft yet raspy, like her grandmother’s and aunt’s.
Eva pauses, something in her gut tightening.
“Go home, Eva. Let it go. I’ve given you all I can.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have.”
The woman stops and turns around. Eva nearly jumps out of her skin. It couldn’t be. Maybe she’s dreaming, or hallucinating. It wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to her in the last week, but Eva was sure she didn’t have the gift of seeing dead people. So who was this woman—so out of place, so 2003?
“Aunt Evaline?”
My Uncle Warren, a beautiful life
My family lore is complicated, but it's also simple. My maternal family is scattered. Many of my great aunts and uncles moved away from Maryland, and my uncles live on the West Coast. I have cousins I’ve never met, or even knew existed until Facebook, and I couldn’t piece together my family tree—who belongs to which aunt or uncle—if you paid me. I just don’t know. And I never got the chance to ask how everyone ended up where they did. I never got to ask because doing so was considered "nosy" by the older generation—who, now that I think about it, were called the Silent Generation for a reason. But honestly, I believe it was because it was all tied to so much pain and trauma. People simply didn’t want to relive it, so they buried it and made any conversation about it uncomfortable, discouraging it entirely.
In fact, I once received a family reunion shirt that had a name on it I’d never seen before. It was the name of an uncle I didn’t know existed—someone I’d never heard of until that shirt showed up. Allegedly, he was found dead in a closet. And his granddaughter, who is around my mother’s age, came to a family function. This was her first time meeting her paternal family. It was a reminder that, for all the connections we assume we have, there are always more people we don’t know about, whose stories remain untold. This led to the discovery that my great-grandmother had been married before, and that her first two children—the newly revealed uncle and an aunt—had a separate father from the rest of their 11 siblings. It was an interesting piece of lore that, at least for me, never really got fleshed out. I was 37 the first time I saw a picture of my great-grandfather, and 36 when I first saw a picture of my paternal grandfather. So, yes, it's complicated.
My uncle never got over his trauma. My grandmother, his mother, died in 1980 after a three-year-long, painful battle with lupus that eventually ravaged her organs, put her on dialysis, and turned the whites of her eyes yellow with jaundice. It was a slow and painful death. He was just 15 when she died, 12 when she first became sick—thrust into a life of unknowns: doctors, misdiagnoses, hospitals, and being moved in with family. It couldn’t have been easy, especially with the eventual realization that death was inevitable. How do you explain to three teenagers, already without a father, that they would soon be without a mother? Did the adults understand and fully accept the reality—that their daughter and sister was dying? And how, or if, did they share this with her children? Or did they live in denial, hoping for a miracle, that somehow she would take a turn for the better and make a full recovery?
The family legend goes that, after she passed but before she was moved to the morgue, my uncle came to the hospital to see her. He began talking to her, pouring his heart out, trying to make peace with her. But it was too late. She had already passed. The nurses, too compassionate to break the news, let him leave without telling him he was speaking to a lifeless body. The call came a few hours later. I believe that moment may have broken him.
My grandmother was a single mother, with no help from her ex-husband but a strong village of siblings. My mother went to live with her grandmother, my great-grandmother, while my uncles went to live with my great-uncle Bill in Utah, eventually moving to Colorado. I believe, with little confirmation, that the trauma of losing his mother—and the resentment she had for her ex-husband, his father—played a significant role in breaking my uncle. He bore the brunt of her pain, and he never quite recovered.
He spent much of his adult life in and out of prison, with one judge even saying, "He does better in prison." But, for what it's worth, he eventually began putting the pieces of his life back together. He built a handyman business and became an active grandfather.
The first time I saw my uncle Warren in person was in 2009, at my uncle Juicy's funeral. I had to do a double take because, although we’d spoken on the phone, I’d never actually met him. Baltimore held so much trauma for him, and he had no intention of returning to a city that represented so much pain. He did eventually come back in 2020 for one of my older cousin's funerals, and he looked happy and healthy. We smiled, took family pictures, and I saw him in a way I’d never seen before. He seemed at peace, like he was finally dealing with his trauma. It was a relief to see that he was beginning to come to terms with his past.
I didn’t write this to lament my uncle’s death. He was a beautiful person, but life is life, and his story shows how childhood trauma can trickle down, affecting adulthood in ways we don’t always understand.
Representation Matters
I believe one of the main reasons the mainstream natural hair movement lost momentum was the increased emphasis on inclusion, rather than true representation of all hair types. In my opinion, the 3a, 3b, and 3c natural hair types were heavily represented, but when women with tighter textures—such as 4a, 4b, and 4c—requested styles and techniques that suited their hair, they were met with what I believe was gaslighting. We were told that the same techniques and styles worked for everyone, and that it didn't work for us because we were doing it wrong. To make matters worse, instead of showcasing more women with tightly coiled hair, the focus shifted to featuring white women with type 2 hair. This felt insulting.
All we wanted were cute hairstyles for everyone, but many of the styles shown for type 4 hair felt reminiscent of childhood braids and twists. We wanted to know how to create twist-outs or braid-outs that actually worked for our hair, that made us feel like adults. Styles that we could comfortably wear into adult spaces such as work, social events, and date nights. Speaking from personal experience, I spent years twisting, braiding, LOC’ing, and curling, only to end up looking like a mix of Frederick Douglass and Krusty the Clown. This is likely one reason why many women have chosen to straighten their hair, loc it, or wear wigs instead. We never quite found our footing in the natural hair space. Rather than being accommodated, we were told we were the problem. So, we voted with our eyes and our dollars, choosing haircare methods that didn't involve relaxers.
Before Jackie Aina, there was very little unambiguous representation of Black women. Dark hair, dark eyes, brown skin—clearly the product of two African parents. For too long, our representation was defined by women whose Black heritage was not immediately obvious. Jackie Aina changed that. She didn’t just represent us—she boldly fought for our visibility. I applaud the work that figures like Golloria and makeup brands like Fenty have done to expand the range of available shades, but none of that would have been possible without Jackie Aina.
In the '80s, '90s, and early 2000s, makeup shades for melanated women were limited to maybe three or four options. I remember calling them "Black Girl 1" (a very fair brown), "Black Girl 2" (a tawny color), and the darkest shade, which was a golden brown—just a shade darker than the previous one. Unfortunately, none of these shades looked good on many Black women. Legend has it that NC45 by MAC was considered the "universal" shade for all darker-skinned people, which is likely why so many Black celebrities in the '80s and '90s appeared ashy: they were wearing makeup that didn’t match their complexion.
Jackie Aina was one of the only Black women doing makeup and hair tutorials in the early days of YouTube. There was also Andrea’s Choice, but she was fair-skinned, biracial, with auburn hair. She was a beautiful woman, but her makeup should not be touted as “universal.” What looks good on a fair-skinned woman with light eyes and hair may not look good on a darker-skinned woman with dark eyes and hair. Everything is not for everybody—and that’s okay.
There needs to be a return to thoughtful, discerning makeup choices. Stop trying to make every shade work for everyone. I believe one reason many of our elders, aside from religious beliefs, discouraged us from wearing makeup—particularly red lipstick—was because those shades weren’t made for darker skin tones and often made us look unnatural. There’s nothing worse than seeing a beautiful woman, of any shade or hue, wearing makeup or hair color that harshly contrasts with her natural features.
I remember in college, a very fair-skinned friend of mine dyed her hair jet black, and without prompting, I told her it was too dark for her complexion. I was called mean, but I believe I was right. She was a beautiful woman, but that dark color washed her out. Similarly, when I dyed my hair honey blonde, I immediately disliked it and went back to my natural color. Preferences matter, and there's nothing wrong with that.
One of the things I find frustrating about the newer generation on social media is their lack of appreciation for the pioneers who paved the way. I often see people in TikTok comments calling out Franchesca Ramsey, or Chescaleigh, who was a pioneer not only in the conscious comedy space but also one of the first to represent locs in the early 2010s. Her neatly styled locs challenged the stereotype that locs were dirty or messy. She made more women feel comfortable wearing loc’d hairstyles, to the point where many brides began opting for loc’d and natural styles on their wedding day, instead of the more socially acceptable straight hair styles.
There was also Joulezy, who started by doing hair tutorials for type 4 hair but eventually expanded into the commentary space. It angers and saddens me when I see her called elitist or a “yapper” by the younger generation. Joulezy brought Black girl and HBCU representation to the growing intellectual YouTube space, and her contributions shouldn't be dismissed.
I hate that representation and the opportunity for qualified people—regardless of their race or ethnicity—has become so politicized under the label of DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion). One thing I’ve noticed as I move between social classes is that what children believe they can become is largely dictated by their environment and who they see in it. Seeing people who look like them doing things they never thought someone like them could do is incredibly important. Representation makes dreams that once seemed far off feel attainable, helping to turn them into a reality.
The Super 5
There is no such thing as unbiased journalism. There, I said it. And while I’m sharing unpopular truths, I also believe the ethics line in journalism is often a faint blur. Journalism has become a business—one driven by numbers and access. To sell papers, magazines, or keep eyes on the screen, you need interest. And certain people generate that interest.
Take the case of the "Super 5" story, which has gone viral on TikTok and spilled into mainstream media, particularly through outlets like Essence. The fact that the story was written so shoddily—names misspelled and key details omitted—reveals where the loyalty lies. Jackie Aina, or Asamoah as she is now called, was the only name spelled correctly for a reason. The article itself leaned heavily in Jackie’s favor, and she’s become the focal point of the Super 5 drama, despite her limited involvement. This isn’t about her—it’s about business. Jackie is a brand. She has more followers than the entire Super 5 combined, and she’s a proven force in the industry. She has businesses that advertises with Essence, speaks at EssenceFest, and draws mainstream attention.
The reality is, Essence needs Jackie more than they need smaller creators like Mecca and Jamila. While these creators are growing their presence, they haven’t yet reached the level where they can generate as much revenue or interest as Jackie. So, a biased article in Jackie’s favor is, unfortunately, a business decision.
This is why traditional media outlets are shifting their focus to appeal to the younger generation that’s “chronically online,” particularly on platforms like TikTok. The truth is, traditional media is on the decline, and social media influencers, like Keith Lee with nearly 20 million followers, no longer need the publicity of The Breakfast Club—but they need his. Just as big brands once relied on magazine and TV features to maintain their relevance, now media outlets are relying on influencers to keep their doors open.
As a former journalist, I understand how the industry is changing. The rise of social media and the decline of print media have turned the tables. Now, artists control their own narratives, sharing the news they want the public to know—when and how they want to share it. It’s not about storytelling; it’s about business. And until the lines between those two are clearly drawn, journalism will continue to evolve, for better or worse.
Love is...Mature Pt. 2
If someone said that part of good parenting is knowing when your family is complete, I would argue that part of maturing and having healthy relationships is being realistic. Even though healthcare in America often leaves much to be desired, part of getting proper treatment is being honest with your healthcare provider. Your doctor cannot treat something they don’t know exists. Similarly, part of having healthy relationships involves knowing when they need to end or change.
If you're unable to have healthy relationships due to past trauma, lack of desire, or other reasons, it’s crucial to be realistic about where you stand. You have to not only be honest with yourself and your partner, but there also has to be mutual acceptance. Once that acceptance is reached, growth can follow.
As hard as the internet can be on Morgan Bailey, I’ll say this objectively: Nothing about her partner suggests he was ready to provide her with stability. He had multiple children by different mothers, several overlapping relationships, no stable employment or plan for financial security, and he abandoned her shortly after the birth of their child. He was also inconsistent during the first year of their daughter’s life, all of which Morgan has shared on her TikTok. Even after reuniting, things haven’t improved. The couple’s relationship has been marked by public disputes, including videos, live streams revealing relationship issues, revenge porn, and a bizarre incident with a "Random Man from Atlanta" posting videos of Morgan chasing after his car to salvage the relationship. Now, with the emergence of domestic violence allegations, it’s clear that this situation lacks stability and health. It’s hard to let go of the idea of a perfect family, especially when you see potential in your partner, but nothing about this situation signals a healthy, long-term relationship. In my opinion, the best course of action for Morgan and Jaquan is to end their romantic relationship and focus on creating a healthy co-parenting dynamic for the sake of their daughter.
Someone once said the honeymoon phase is a delusion, and I can agree with that. In many aspects of life—not just romantic relationships—there’s a period when everything feels perfect, or at least better. This is often followed by rationalizations of flaws, a period of annoyance, and eventually, acceptance—if the relationship lasts long enough. Healthy relationships must evolve beyond this delusional phase into one where both people accept each other, flaws and all. There are no perfect people, but what happens when the honeymoon phase ends, and there’s no desire to accept each other’s imperfections?
To have a long-lasting, healthy relationship, both partners need to mature and strike a delicate balance between family, self, spouse, and external duties. This balance is achieved through prioritization. There will be times when the marriage comes first, and other times when one partner’s needs may take precedence. Sometimes, parenting duties take priority over being spouses, and at other times, external responsibilities such as work or extended family obligations must take the lead. The key is that priorities must shift over time, and imbalance occurs when one person or thing is constantly prioritized. Without balance, things eventually collapse.
The year was 2011. I was a QA tester, and I spent most of my time at work watching YouTube videos. While I don't recall exactly what I was watching, I do remember wondering how kids who were born and raised on social media — at the time, mostly YouTube — would turn out. Now, more than a decade later, I have a bit of an answer, but it’s more related to the parents than the kids.
Someone commented on a video that women have been having babies for social media since 2010. I would raise that point further: women and families have been having babies for the prospect of fame and fortune since the late 1990s. There was a baby story on TLC, The Duggars, John and Kate, 16 and pregnant, MTV True Life, and probably more that I can’t recall. While I can’t definitively judge, I’ve seen enough examples to suggest that the pressure to maintain a public persona, often an unnatural one, has been detrimental to families, friendships, and relationships, especially for those who went on reality TV.
Most people can barely handle the scrutiny of loved ones or acquaintances discussing them in a negative light, so I can’t imagine how people handle the level of fame and judgment that comes with being on reality TV. It’s broken many families, as seen in countless exposes, deep dives into reality TV shows, and the stories of children who grew up in this environment — most notably, the Duggar and Gosselin children.
I sometimes wonder if I could have built a successful social media career if I were willing to exploit my family and personal life. There are a few individuals who have created large followings based on their talents, personality, or other unique qualities without sharing too much of their personal lives. But many people break into the industry by capitalizing on embarrassing dating stories, marriage struggles, friendship fallouts, messy family "tea," and, my personal favorite, their children.
Let’s face it: people love looking at family pictures, hearing love stories, and watching cute kids. That’s why so many family vlogs became popular during YouTube’s heyday. However, most of those couples have either broken up or had very messy public divorces, and maybe it’s just me, but certain things should remain offline. You should not be monetizing the breakup of your family, no matter how much money you make. Creating hashtags about your ex-wife, the mother of your children, "going out sad" isn’t the flex you think it is. Sharing co-parenting struggles and airing out family issues for public consumption isn’t helpful. I don’t care if you think you're protecting yourself or your kids — save it for the judge.
Posting a video of your ex-wife seemingly abusing you while holding your child is not a good look. It’s disgusting and only harms the child. If you believe your life, and the life of your children, may be in danger, don't pick up a vlog camera in hopes of documenting and protecting yourself, instead, pick up a phone and call police, as they are the only ones that can truly help.
I understand wanting proof but why does that proof need to be shared with the world? Videos from any time period can go viral, so if a video from almost 100 years ago can resurface, who’s to say your "truth-telling" video won’t make a comeback in 10-15 years and ruin your family’s reputation? These things have long-lasting consequences, but people often fail to see that. They only see their "careers."
I don’t care if you went from making tens of thousands on social media to driving for a rideshare company — consider how to build a career without involving your children. I see too many parents get online and talk about how uncomfortable their children are with the public attention they receive from their "internet aunts and uncles," those parasocial relationships they’ve created for money. Instead of limiting their children’s exposure online, these parents chastise the public for not respecting boundaries. While I understand that frustration, it’s not up to the public to protect your children — it’s your job. And the easiest way to do that is by not posting your child on social media.
There are too many warning signs about the long-term effects of social media use for children and too many stories of inappropriate things happening to kids shared online. Yet, when people talk about how much money they make online — often claiming they can make ten times more than they would at a traditional W-2 job with just a bit of controversy and going viral, even without millions of followers — you end up with cases like the Resilient Jenkins and Nurse Hannah, who post things that can be perceived as neglect and mistreatment of their children, all to go viral and make money.
I am, however, happy to see that more and more states are finally creating guidelines, similar to those in Hollywood for child stars, on how long children can work and how their finances are set aside for the future. It’s a step in the right direction.
I understand why many families pursue social media fame. Initially, they may have enjoyed sharing memories, pictures, and videos, only to realize it could provide a career with high earning potential and the flexibility to spend more time with their children. However, as social media continues to evolve, it’s important to be mindful of how we share personal details online and the potential long-term effects, both positive and negative, on our families.
While negativity and criticism are inevitable, no matter how carefully parents may post about their children, it’s essential to consider the possible fallout. Posting your child in less-than-ideal circumstances — such as during difficult living situations, rage-baiting, punishment, or illness — may harm their long-term mental and emotional well-being. It could also lead to ostracization or isolation from their peers. I urge everyone to think carefully before sharing content that could have lasting consequences.
Thin is in
The Slim Kim discourse on TikTok is hilarious to me. All the woman said is that she likes her body to look a certain way, and you would have thought she called for the death of anyone over a size 2. I've seen everything from people agreeing with her—saying they too like to maintain a certain appearance—to people calling her fatphobic, and others mocking her. But I don’t understand why the discourse is so heated. People have the right to their personal preferences, and as far as I know, she didn’t speak ill of anyone else; she simply expressed what she prefers for her body.
As a nearly 40-year-old woman, I was alive and conscious during the '90s, and I became a teenager and young adult in the 2000s. So, I'm going to hold the internet's hand—specifically Gen Z (who has been spoiled by body-positive movements and representation on social media)—when I say this: I have no idea what the fuss is about. I grew up during a time when diet culture was at its peak. I vividly remember my mother—who is Gen X—constantly being on a diet. For most of my life, up until my mid-20s, diet culture reigned supreme. It was not unusual to be on a weight-loss journey. Everyone "watched" what they ate. There were diet tips and workout routines in all the magazines, even the teen ones. The mentality was either you were gaining or losing weight, and it was seen as a badge of honor to maintain the same weight (or very close to it) for the majority of your life.
When Beyoncé slimmed down for Dreamgirls, her cayenne pepper cleanse was plastered across every magazine. When Tyler Perry lost weight for Madea's Family Reunion, he shared that he was on a diet of eggs—what that meant, I still don’t know. It wasn’t uncommon for TV shows to make jokes about female characters losing weight, skipping dessert, or avoiding meals because their hips had gotten wide. Calling someone fat was a go-to insult in many TV shows and movies—even children's ones—and at most, the character would be considered "midsized" at best. I once remember Barney, from How I Met Your Mother, lamenting over a "crazy" ex but still wanting to give her a chance because she had lost ten pounds, which apparently was enough to erase all of their relationship woes. The examples are endless, but the point is, diet culture and the need to always be dieting and working to lose weight was ingrained in Millennials, the same way it had been in older generations.
It wasn’t until the 2010s that we got a break from this, when social media and "regular people" began to dominate and body positivity became mainstream. But even then, only some plus-sized bodies are deemed acceptable—usually those in the "midsized" category (sizes 10-14), with a flat stomach, minimal rolls, shapely bottom, and full chest. This is what is considered acceptable. "Thick" only became acceptable in the last 10-15 years, and even then, that "thickness" had to be in a very specific, socially acceptable range.
Maybe I’m delusional or just a product of my time, but I never thought diet culture died. I thought it simply rebranded into something more palatable for the masses. I never saw weight-loss journeys, “What I Eat in a Day” videos, grocery hauls, food reviews, or mukbangs—done by conventionally attractive and slimmer people—as anything other than repackaged diet culture. How do you think people who eat unhealthy food for a living manage to stay slim? They usually chew and spit, or they might only eat that food for the day. Eating large amounts of unhealthy food while seemingly not suffering any of its negative effects is just diet culture in disguise.
People still have preferences for how they want others to look, and it’s evident when someone’s weight becomes a trending topic. Diet culture never died; it just rebranded. Slim Kim simply said the quiet part out loud.