How a Bunion Changed the Way I See Life


By Erickka Sy Savané

My bunion was hurting me something fierce! For the longest I didn’t even know I had one. One day, I noticed this little round bone poking out the right side of the ball of my foot like a little door knob. Sometimes it would get sensitive when I wore certain shoes and hurt. Thank goodness, for google. When I realized it was a bunion I was in total shock because bunions are for old people, cartoon characters, and people who neglect their feet. Not gorgeous young women such as myself who love a good neon polish and foot scrub. Welp. So I’m at the doctor, trying to figure out what I can do to get rid of this thing when he informs me that not only do I have a bunion, I also have a bunionette (a what?!!!!!) on the other side of that same foot, and hammer toe. GoodGodAlmighty will he have to amputate my foot?! How did this happen?

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Dedicate the Next 6 Months to Your Goals. No Announcements. Just Do It. #BeHerNow


Comment below, if you’re in!

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True Story: I Got Pregnant & I Went Bald

Photo BlackLove.com
By Courtni Guevara

I didn't want to wash my hair. No, that’s not accurate. I wanted to wash my hair, but I was scared. My scalp burned as if it were on fire. The water would soothe it, but it would also cause so much more of it to fall out all at once. There were already the warning signs – like when I had thought that I dropped my washcloth in the shower and was horrified to find that it was a large clump of hair.

As it turned out, my fear didn’t matter; within two months I would be completely bald from head to toe.

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The Truth Behind Why I Stopped Lying About My Age


By Kerika Fields Nalty

When I turned forty-eight in March, someone asked me how old I was and I found myself faced with a conundrum: To lie, or not to lie?

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Does a Growing Obsession With Granny Panties Make You Old?


By Erickka Sy Savané

Okay, this isn’t easy to write. I’m a woman and as such, age is one of those things we hate to talk about. Whether it’s grey hair, that dreaded menopause (we hate our periods, but having them stop to enter into the world of hot flashes is just criminal), or panties. Yes, panties. It was just recently that I looked in my panty drawer and discovered not a single thong or my once-beloved boy short, but plenty of granny panties. Grannies in colors like blue, pink and white, so soft… and though there was a time I wouldn’t be caught dead in a panty so big that it covers my whole butt with ease, now I wouldn’t be caught dead without it. Obviously, a part of me is okay with this change because it was me who bought them in the first place, still, no woman wants to knowingly turn into their mother. Does this mean I'm officially old?!

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Why the Natural Hair Movement Has Been a Gift & a Curse to Black Women


By Arah Iloabugichukwu

I made it all the way from the Just For Me craze to the infamous wrap era without so much as a curling iron touching my head. Well, there was this one time for picture day in 5th grade that my mom decided to bless me with some Shirley temple curls. She made it about half through my mid-back kinks before throwing in the towel, tossing the entire middle section into a Bantu knot and sending me on my way. That 5th grade struggle photo, complete with Pebbles’ top knot, will forever encapsulate the relationship I have with my hair. Me in a constant state of “Really, Girl??” and my hair offering a boisterous “Really……period!” in return.

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