So I Live in Amsterdam Now

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Photographer Kristina Makeeva Captures What Autumn Looks Like Around Europe

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[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

when sistafriends are enuf

In an attempt to relocate to Amsterdam, at the top of the year one of my BFF’s lived here for 7 entire months. It. Was. Glorious. Summer of ‘06 was epic. I had just graduated and Kat and I spent that summer thotting around Boston and Cambridge. Those 7 months felt like Summer ‘06 all over again. A little wiser, a little less energy but still full of schemes, dramz and giggles. 

I knew Kat being here would be a blast but I felt something else that I hadn’t expected. I’ve known Kat for over 10 years. Having someone here who has known me for that long and is able to reflect my past and present stirred my soul in ways I didn’t know I needed. Having her here reconnected me to the core of myself.

I’ve been here for almost 5 years now. Sekani was 1.5 years old when we moved here and Q and I had only been married for 3 years. This is where I figured out what kind of mother I am... where I figured out (and am still figuring out) the kind of wife I am... where I started to understand what marriage was all about. It’s where I became a professional... where I truly experienced what it meant to be a working mother. This is where I started to define what work-life balance actually means for me. It’s where, now out of my black progressive brooklyn bubble, I learned how to fiercely and unapologetically articulate my gender and race politics.

This is where I became a grown ass woman. 

I regularly reflect on my evolutions over these years and wonder how much of it has been organically my own and how much of it has been attempt at assimilating...how much of it is a reaction to this foreign place... how much of it is in mine and how much of it is adapting?

Kat’s visit helped me answer those questions. Being with her helped me recognize the parts of me that are truest and those parts of me that have bent to keep from breaking under the weight of constant othering. It was so so good for me. I felt like myself again. It felt like home. 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

A wrote an article for The Black Expat a while ago. It was about my journey raising a Black American boy in Europe. For some crazy reason they wanted to hear me blab more about this and featured me and the famalam in their new video series: The Journey. 

Check us out and watch their other videos! There’s one on Amsterdam Black Women, the collective I cofounded. I also highly recommend the video featuring my expat homie Dana Saxon; cofounder of Ancestors Unknown. 

Enjoy!

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

I Tried Reiki

I went to to Reiki for the first time a couple weeks ago. 

I found out about Salma after she wrote a post offering her services in the Amsterdam Black Women Facebook group. 

When I got to her place on this super cute block in the East. We immediately hit it off. Salma has Sudanese and Egyptian ancestry and was born and raised in London. For the first hour I was there we just kicked it really. We sipped on ginger lemon tea and traded war stories about expat life in Amsterdam. 

When the time seemed right, Salma led me into her living room where she had a table set up for me. Not knowing what to expect, I laid down and shut my eyes. With the scent of burning oil in the air, meditative music gently playing in the background, I felt myself transported the moment she laid hands on my temples. 

At the end of the session Salma shared what my energy was saying to her. 

What I learned at reiki 

1. My root chakra is out of balance. The root chakra is located at the base of the spine and the pelvis.  From what I understand this chakra is responsible for our feelings of being rooted and grounded. This is where our passion, drive and creativity come from. 

2. My internal monologue is limiting me. Language that on the one hand helps me identify who I am to myself and others might also be keeping me from new experiences and opportunities for growth. 

3. I need to seek out the things that give me energy. I know well the things that drain my energy but I don’t know as well how to replenish that energy. 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Family Trip: Southern Italy

At the end of September my mom and her husband Kevin came to visit us. When booking someplace for them to stay at first I looked for an Air BnB but when I couldn’t find anything affordable I settled on the Lloyd Hotel which turned out to be perfect. It’s literally across the street, has it’s own restaurant and is close to 2 tram lines. These are suburban folks who are not accustomed to having to walk and need to have coffee first thing in the morning - I didn’t want these to become chores for me. 

Just across the way from the Lloyd Hotel is Anne and Max, a super cute cafe where they serve coffee, breakfast and other yummies. 

Their first full day here we went out to Olmenhorst Landgoed is a farm located about half an hour south of Amsterdam where you can pick your own apples and pears. 

After hanging out in Amsterdam for a couple days we flew out to Southern Italy for a few days of sunshine. 

Since the trip was planned last minute we selected out location based on where we could fly to the cheapest. We knew we wanted to go to Italy and because the flights were cheapest, we flew into Naples and booked a house in Pompeii (also because of price). 

Our first night in Pompeii we ate some of the best freaking pizza I’ve ever had in all my life. The dough, the sauce, the cheese everything was just perfection. I’ve never had pizza crust that delicious. 

Day 1

I need to say now without shame that I knew nothing about the volcanic eruption that happened in Pompeii nor did I know anything about the ruins when I booked the house there and also a big fuck you to all the people who made me feel like an idiot for knowing. Whatever man... I went to public school. 

Anyway, we drove our rental so high up the Mount Vesuvias that my ears started popping. Cars are only allowed up about 1000 m and then the rest of the trek - about 200 m - up to the crater has to be done on foot. We all agreed we would enjoy the mountain from where we were and skip the hike - ahhh gotta love those rare moments of consensus. 

Day 2

My mom really wanted to go to Tuscany but because we were so far south it would’ve taken us 3 hours to get there. We figured that we could get the “Tuscany” she was looking for a bit closer. Qa’id found a winery in a town called Frascati about 2 hours away so we headed there. 

When we arrived at Cantina de Sanctis, the owner Luigi gave us a tour of his spectacular family estate where he grows and makes mostly white wine, some red and pressed olive oil. 

After the tour, we tasted the current wines coupled with yummy snacks and bread, which I can’t show you because I’m always too excited about food to ever take photos... 

Day 3 

The next morning we headed to the Amalfi Coast. We (and by we I mean Qa’id) drove a harrowing 36 kilometers up and then down a mountain to get there... hairpin turns all along the way. The drive was absolutely stunning - that is what i could see of it when I wasn’t squeezing my eyes shut from fear. And when I wasn’t praying to God I was promising my future self I would come back in a convertible ferrari. 

Day 4

On our last day in Italy we drove through the mountainous Cilento and Vallo di Diano National Park to visit the Grotte di Castelcivita. We did this instead of heading to the more touristic Capri island. I’d never been in a cave before so thought it’d be an interesting adventure. The drive was amazing as per usual in Italy and when we got there we sat at the shaded restaurant and enjoyed aperol spritzers as we waited for the tour to begin. 

I was too preoccupied with the headset we were given for the audio tour to take any photos so here’s one I swiped from the internet. 

I found Farmhouse Terra Nostra on Google Maps and it had great reviews and looked beautiful so we headed there for a meal. When we got there we ended up having one of the strangest experiences of the whole trip. You know that sound when a DJ is spinning and then suddenly stops the record? Ya that’s what it felt like when we walked into the place. Clearly a local favorite, the restaurant was packed with long tables bustling with large multi-generational families.... all of whom stopped what they were doing and starred intensely as we made our way to a table. 

Whatever... we enjoyed our meal, endured the furtive glances and got out of there. 

The next day we were on a flight back to ‘dam. 

Here’s what this trip taught me 

1. This was the first time we went on a trip like this with my mom and her husband and it really made me realize that in the future this kind of trip requires special consideration and planning the same way learning to travel with Sekani did. 

2. I’M FUCKING OVER BEING OTHERED IN EUROPE! I get it, you’ve never been so close to a Black person before. You’re amazed and confused... wait... they go on vacation?! They have FAMILIES?!!? *insert scream emoji* I get it but I don’t give a fuck. I ain’t a damn zoo exhibit. 

3. Pizza in Naples is GOAT.

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

SheSays Privelege Parties

I went to this event recently hosted by FinchFactor (advertising agency) which was problematic as fuck. I need to vent. First of all, the event was called #DiversifyorDie.  I’ve been trying to do more networking recently in the women in tech space so this seemed interesting. 

The event was held at Boom Chicago and when I got there I was actually pleasantly surprised to see 2 out of 4 panelists were women of color. Unfortunately that was where the positivity ended. What actually ensued was a privilege party.

One of the panelists was a Dutch woman called Map van Arem, managing director of XXS.  She made some seriously damaging remarks about diversity. To paraphrase, she said diversity was about checking off boxes and meeting quotas and was of little importance. She basically took the approach that I’ve found too often here - that focusing on diversity was actually divisive and that we should all be transcending it by now. She said that her company was moving past this and focusing on people and their talents. She ended her presentation by showing a photo of her staff... who were almost ALL white!

My favorite (and by favorite I mean shoot me in the face) panelist was Rose Zandvliet, Radio 538's digital editor-in-chief. When Rose was asked what the best piece of advice she was ever given she said it was to think like a man. She then proceeded to insult everyone in the room. According to Rose, women get by in the work place by making ‘puppy dog faces’ and by being soft. She said women didn’t ask for things and were essentially weak and always apologizing. Whereas men knew how to ask for what they wanted and never apologize. She never, never, NEVER once contextualized her ridiculously broad generalizations within the context of patriarchy and the ways in which the different genders are socialized. 

Throughout the night, both panelists and audience members harped on the idea that diversity was a “hot new topic”... No boo boo, diversity is NOT a hot new topic. POC’s and queer communities and people on the margins have always had to kick the fucking door in to be included. It’s a hot topic for you now because of privilege. You never had to think about whether or not you were being let in!

The whole thing also felt super white feminist as at it’s most critical the discussion was about whether women were represented in spaces, with no concern or mention of WOC or queer folk. 

I take serious issue with an event like this being called ‘DiversifyorDie’. Throughout the evening, the facilitator repeatedly encouraged the audience to tweet using the hashtag. I take issue with this dramatic and provocative title and hashtag being used to promote an event and an agency when in fact exclusion does kill. POC’s are dying in the streets. Queer people are dying. Trans people are dying. This shit ain’t funny or cute nor should it be used as some sort of provocative way to get retweets. Diversity may just be a hot topic of discussion for cis white women and their pet project creative agencies but having access to spaces, to work, to creative outlets, to representation can be literally life or death for some of us. 

Fuck. Outta. Here!!

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Diasporic feminist feels: Reflections on Edinburgh

I knew the conference would be lit as soon as conference organizer and opening speaker Dr. Akwugo Emejulu dropped the first of many gems on us and instead of the usual polite conference applause, the first 2 rows of fly black women affirmed her statements with emphatic YAASSSes and mmhmmms.

I’m one of the founders of the Amsterdam Black Woman Meetup. I came to Edinburgh with one of my co-founders Tracian Meikle. ABW Meetup was started a year or so ago along with 3 of our other good friends. We wanted to do some intentional work around creating community for black women expats in Amsterdam. Tracian and I came to the conference thinking we’d present on our little meet up and at best do a bit of networking. But what ended it up happening was more than either of us could have imagined.

As soon as Dr. Emejulu started speaking, I felt instantly seen and validated. I recognized myself as part of this international tribe of diasporic Black feminists roaming around Europe creating affirming and healing spaces as we go. Dr. Emejulu framed the conference by explaining how in Europe WOC are positioned as both passive victims and existential threats to the homogenized left.

As I listened, a chocolate brown sista with the smoothest skin ever seated across from me, complimented me on my outfit. Black women have a way of being both secure in their own flyness and affirming yours in the same breath. Love it. Dr. Emejulu went on to affirm that Europe has not and cannot exist without an alien other and we, fabulous WOC are those aliens. And this fact is not unfortunate, it’s calculated.

The first panel I went to was called, “The Politics of Home”. There, I listened enraptured as Fanny Essiye, a self identified French Afro Feminist, broke down the many ways that France has erased ‘race’ as a concept from the national discourse. I learned about the damage that stems from the romanticization of Europe by Black Americans living abroad like myself. The idea of Europe as a racism free space where Black folks are free and safe has been propagated since the Harlem Renaissance when James Baldwin, Richard Wright, Josephine Baker and others fled American racism for bluer skies across the Atlantic. What this narrative does is give license to French society to point to America as the place where racism of the worst kind exists and to vindicate the French of their own brand of it. As Essiye says, France points its finger at America’s tumultuous racial history while deflecting its own history of colonialism and institutionalized racism. She explained that the importance of a conference like the one we were all attending lies in the fact that in France the work of French Afro feminists has been erased making it impossible for women like her to see their experiences reflected and affirmed. Essiye ends on the imperative for us all to center and elevate the work and stories of our diasporic feminist foremothers.

Traci and I presented on the next panel called “Black feminist/Afro feminist collectives in conversation”. The highlight of presenting at this conference for me was not the presentation itself but all the positive and energy we received from all the dope women in the room. Our co-panelist was a tall and impressive organizer with a fro from an organization called Matters of the Earth, who made all our jaws drop each time she spoke. Also sat in the room was Siana, a spunky artist and poet with bright lipstick and hip glasses, a member of Abasindi – an autonomous cooperative for Black women founded in ‘79 and many more fly and brilliant sistas. Dr. Emejulu herself facilitated our panel where we discussed intergenerational movement building, policing blackness, and transphobia in feminist spaces.

After the final session of the day, we were all ushered into the main hall where we were blessed with reflections from British director and artist Cecile Emekewho shared the real challenges with centering Blackness in her work. My biggest takeaway from Emeke’s talk was that while we can’t control who consumes our work, we can control where we spend our time. As a writer who struggles with not writing for the white gaze, I really appreciated this nugget of wisdom.

Before heading back to Amsterdam the following day, Tracian and I got the chance to spend the day exploring Edinburgh. The sun was shining and the sky was blue (unusual for September from what I hear). We floated around the city glowing, carried by the energy of the previous day. Feeling a little less alone, a little less crazy and a lot more buoyant, bold and Black.

Originally posted here: https://woceuropeconference.wordpress.com/blog/

[allthingseurope]

Ravenstein, Netherlands (by Flitshans) 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Abcoude

My mama friend Anouk and her girls, who go to creche with Sekani were staying in Abcoude for a couple weeks and invited us to come join them for a weekend. Abcoude is a quick train ride south from Amsterdam and Anouk’s brother has a house down there. He went away on holiday for a couple weeks and offered the place to Anouk. 

We jumped on the train on Saturday morning and headed out there. When we got off the train we walked through the center of Abcoude to get to the spot. From what I could tell, it’s a fairly small village with not much going on but it’s really cute and the center had some nice looking shops and restaurants. It was really lush like most of Holland and lucky for us the weather was cooperating. 

Anouk’s brother’s spot is like a wonderland for kids. The house itself is huge, with toys and books abound throughout. Outside, there’s a trampoline, a treehouse, a little playground, a sandbox and an inflated swimming pool. There was a picnic table and a bbq pit and lawn chairs. There were bicycles, tricycles scooters and a tent. And to top it all off, two sweet cats, a chicken and a hen were jaunting around the yard. You get the sense that kids are running wild, free and really happy in that place. 

We had a wonderful time! The kids played hard and Qa’id, Anouk and I got to chill and chat. It’s such a different experience being away with Sekani when there’s another kid his age there. I totally get this 2nd child argument (not having one though so fall back). All we really had to do was make sure that they ate and drank enough water. Adama and Sekani could be heard giggling in the treehouse one moment and arguing in the sandbox the next. Kids. 

During the day we kept a steady flow of snacks and fruit going and in the evening we BBQ’d. That night the kids knocked out hard. Sunday morning, Sekani must’ve heard Adama’s voice in his sleep because the second he opened his eyes, he was on his feet asking if he could go play. I barely saw the boy for the rest of the day. We picnicked for lunch and cooked rice and veggies for dinner before heading home. 

So nice to have a weekend away from Amsterdam. It was really like a mini holiday. 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Property owners.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are mother fucking homeowners in this bitch!!! 

In the beginning of August we finally got word that the mortgage we had applied for was approved. I don’t actually think I’ve ever written about this but I’ll give you the quick and dirty now. 

Basically we’ve been trying to buy a place since we moved out here. We’ve tried starting up the process twice but some major life situation would happen and we’d have to give it up. This year, since we were both working and things were finally feeling stable, we decided to give it a try again. We started looking for a place back in March maybe. The hardest part of getting property in Amsterdam is actually finding one. There’s just not that much on the market and demand is extremely high. So we got ourselves an agent and started searching. The process was grueling. Either there was something wrong with the spot or we couldn’t even get in to see a spot because at soon as it was put on the market, it got dozens of offers right away. I really did not feel like our agent was aggressive enough and wasn’t really educating us on how to improve our chances. To make matters more difficult, we were really restricted in the area we could search in because we wanted to be close to Sekani’s future school (he starts in September). 

One evening, I went to see a spot by myself after work. I immediately loved it! First thing in the morning, the next day, I put an offer on it. Mind you, Qa’id hadn’t even seen it yet! I just went with my gut on that one. I won’t bore you with the details of the back and forth and how it all happens but in the end, our offer was accepted! (Qa’id went to see it soon after I made the offer and also loved it.) 

The next thing we had to do was apply for the mortgage. That part was fairly easy except for the fact that it took forever! 6 weeks we had to wait! In that time, our landlord sold our apartment so if we didn’t end up getting this spot we would’ve been assed out. 

We found out the first week of August and since then I’ve basically been vacillating between extreme anxiety and slight excitement. Even though this is what I wanted, I’m having a hard time fully embracing it. It just feels so big! And I immediately had buyers remorse. Is this place cute? Do I even like it? Is it too small? Is the building too big? Do I like this view? Will I like these people? And on and on and on. 

In my mental mind, I know it’s a great thing. It feels like a real step towards financial security and wealth building. It feels nice knowing we own something in the world that we can pass on to Sekani. No matter how much longer we’ll be here for, all signs point to it being a good investment to buy property in Amsterdam right now. Also, with all of the housing craziness we’ve had living here, it feels good to know we’ve got a stable spot that’s ours for real, for real. 

Anyway, aside from my clear mental health issues right now, I am happy to be moving. I like this apartment a lot, I’m really, really, really going to miss our view. But this has always felt temporary. And even though we’re moving into a smaller place, I’m looking forward to renovating it and setting it up and decorating it to suit us. I’ve been going bananas on Pinterest every night — it’s kind of like therapy. 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Are you happy to be in Paris?

Last month, I went to Paris for the weekend with two of my colleagues. We hit the road right after work and got there in enough time to have a couple of beers. My weekend crew consisted an English copywriter from Newcastle (Aimz), a random Greek dude (random Greek dude), a Parisian by way of Poland and England copywriter (Mazz) and her Parisian boo (Oz). 

The next morning, we head to a patisserie (duh!) and filled up on croissant au beurre, pain au chocolat, and other carbilicious goodies.

Realizing now that this entire post will be about food and liquor as that’s mostly what went down I don’t remember anything else that happened...

After filling up, we spent some time walking off our sins to prepare our tummies for lunch. Mazz made reservations for us to eat at a small French restaurant in her former hood. You see, we were going to have a proper, 4-course classic French meal. 

When we arrived at the absurdly charming spot, we were joined by Oz’s buddy, who lucky for us happened to be an absurdly cute Frenchmen (aka absurdly cute Frenchmen). 

Let’s eat. 

So, eating with real Parisians is kind of a big deal. There are rules of engagement that must not be broken if one is to truly enjoy the magic that is French food. Considering my only rule of eating is that it happens frequently, I had a lot to learn. Luckily, Oz was both gracious and diligent in schooling my couthless American ass on eating to not only fully appreciate the flavor party happening in my mouth but, crucially, to look good doing it. 

I honestly don’t remember what we ate, all I know is that it was a truly marvelous and highly pleasurable oral experience. The highlights were escargots, swimming in butter, parsley in garlic. It took a minute for me to get the technique down (scoop out escargot with weird little fork, eat heavenly bite, pour out excess butter from shell, dip crusty bread into butter, eat, die happy, come back to life and repeat). There was also the dish with the runny boiled egg swimming in melted cheese. For dessert there was a cheese plate of course. I broke many rules with the cheese plate. There was a floating island that made me want to cry. There were drinks. Many, many drinks of all sorts. This white wine, went with this delicious morsel of fare. This red wine, went with that delectable forkful of fare. 

In total, we spent a solid 4 hours, eating, drinking and being very, very merry. At the end of it all, I was happy, full and very drunk.

Time to walk off our sins again. 

After eating, we headed to a cute bookstore where I bought Sekani a couple of books (as is tradition) and, newly dedicated to my life as a Frenchwoman, I bought a novel for myself. Can I read French? No! But whatevs, don’t judge me.

We then did some barhopping where there was dancing and a lot more drinking. Seriously, Parisians can DRINK! I did not expect to still be standing at the end of the night. But I was! Really proud of myself actually. Somehow we all made it home unscathed (for the most part...). 

The next day, we all woke up terribly hungover. 

Let’s eat. 

We went to a thai spot and had some bomb ass hangover cure food. Then Mazz and Oz took us on a lovely and meandering walk around the city. We walked through the Père Lachaise Cemetery and saw some weird/creepy/beautiful tombstones. We saw some dope street art, drink some yummy tea, went through a cool park and climbed and climbed and climbed until we reached the peak and were gifted an incredible view of Paris. 

When it was time to head back to Amsterdam, we had two crucial stops to make. 1. Patisserie. I stocked up on croissants, pain au chocolat’s and other carbilicious treats to bring back to my boos + a sammich for the road. 2. Grocery store. I stocked up on an impressive array of French cheese and a couple bottles of wine. 

Back to Amsterdam. 

I had such an amaaazing time in Paris with Mazz, Aimz, Oz, random Greek dude and absurdly cute Frenchmen! I love Paris! I really feel like Paris and I have a future together. I’m not sure when or how (details!) but it’s such a dope city and I need it in my life. 

First step, Duolingo French bitches. 

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Dave & Dope

The boo an I had initially planned to go to the Bilal concert at North Sea Jazz club recently for date night. But totally by mistake,  I found out that the movie Dope was having a limited release in the Netherlands. So we decided to skip Bilal (much love for B but he comes to town often). Black movies hardly ever come out this way. If they do, it's because it's a blockbuster hit like 12 years a Slave. But an indie?! Never that. So, geeked as hell, we jumped on our bikes and headed to Kriterion. Because Dutch weather is disrespectful as fuck, of course it starred pouring on us just as Q was attempting to light up our date night J. We arrived wet, and sober but on time. The movie theater was nearly empty — no surprise there — and  almost completely white — no surprise there either. Dutch people love Black culture, not Black people. We tucked in, watched the film and got our entire Black lives. 

The movie was hilarious. I loved everything about it. Most of the jokes and cultural references went completely over the heads of the Dutchies (and they are tall as fuck so it's kinda hard to do that... Lol). The movie was for us and by us and I really felt that. The soundtrack was dope and I love how the story was so in the spirit of the Black movies of the 90s and 2000s. I feel like it's an instant classic. I loved how honest the main character was. Also, Zoe Kravitz who is fine as fuck was in it! 

It's so affirming to see our stories on a big screen. Normally we just download movies and watch them in but I'm so glad we went. 

Watching the movie took me back to earlier in the month when we went to see Dave Chappelle perform to a sold out Heineken Music Hall in the Bijlmer — Amsterdam’s ‘hood’ (aka where the Black folks live). The truth is, I’m not a huge fan of stand up comedy. I almost always find the jokes highly offensive. Women, POC’s and queer folks are always the butt of the joke. And that shit ain’t funny. (Please read: ‘Comic Relief: When People of Color Aren’t the Punchline). I think it’s a rare comedian that can be both controversial and respectful. It takes a lot of intelligence and craft. Dave Chappelle has that. 

Anyway, the show was hilarious. Many, many LOLs. But there were several times when I felt like the jokes didn’t land for most of the people in the audience. Culture out of context is tricky. I think in general it leads to appropriation, mimikry and mockery. But there have been a few occasions when I’ve experienced Black culture out of context here and it’s made me feel slightly less lonely and homesick.

There were actually a lot of Black folks in the audience. It was really turnt up too. But Dave’s comedy was hella Black American. So there were lots of moments that felt like Q and I LOLing alone. I lived for it though. It was another instance of being affirmed by seeing and hearing a Black body tell our Black ass stories on stage to a white ass audience — unapologetically. 

Those moments mean the world. Didn’t hurt that Yaasin Bey showed up either. 

[allthingseurope]

Rome by Nicole Franzen

[allthingseurope]

Villa del Balbianello, Italy (by Daniele Porro)

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

#travelgoals #eurolife #expatlife

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Back and forth like Aaliyah

So I’ve gone back and forth for a while now about whether or not I would want to move back to the U.S. and when. Actually no, it’s never been up for debate whether or not we would move back, it was more of a matter of where to and when. At the top of the year, I was really feeling like I had had enough of Dutch life and was excited about the idea of going back to the U.S. next year. 

Recently that’s shifted again. Cuz for real... #whatthefuckhappenedtosandrabland?!

I reached out to my homegirls in the U.S. on our group chat the other day. I wanted to measure their levels of fear against mine. I wanted to know if my level of terror was being exacerbated by the fact that I was out of country and hearing about all of this horror from a distance. I wanted to know if I was buggin. 

Long story short, I ain’t trippin. Shit is fucked up. My girl has panic attacks whenever her man is out of her site. I have a 3 year old son. I am fully committed to raising a #carefreeblackchild. I will not be having “the talk” with him. I fucking refuse. I have a partner who is a Black man. So now what? Where is it safe to occupy a Black body?

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

So this happened at work today. I'm flipping through these Mental Notes cards trying to come up with some copy and... this. Smdh. In case you can't see it in the shot, they are both eating worms and insects but the Naked Black Savage is the only one enjoying them.

[soiliveinamsterdamnow]

Saw this little guy outside of Sekani’s daycare and a few other places around the city. Turns out, our homegirl Joya lives with the artist. The pieces are called, The Happy Monster. There’s no street art culture to speak of in Amsterdam so always nice to some eye candy whenever they appear.