With all that's going on, many of us have been deep in our feelings---angry, frustrated, exhausted, and, sometimes, totally distraught. The murders of black folks at the hands of law enforcement along with the annoyingly awkward and confusing aftermath of the reopening of states that have been shut down due to the COVID-19 have us all in an utter tailspin.
We're wondering whether a mask is indeed required for entry into our favorite stores and restaurants, whether we should let our bosses know that we're still not OK with returning to crowded cubicles, or whether the insurance company will still give us another month to pay that outstanding bill we couldn't afford after losing our jobs during coronavirus closures. We worry about whether we or someone we know will be the next victim of police brutality or whether this country will ever truly be safe and inclusive.
We all want to do our part to fight against injustice and help those in need, even while overwhelmed and bogged down with the everyday stresses of just being alive. You'd think that with all that's going on, you wouldn't come across the ugly, bitter face of woke-shaming. I mean, come on. Who has time for that? Well, you'd be wrong. Some folks have somehow found the energy to add it to an already long list of annoyingly disgusting aspects of dealing with life right now. And I'm not talking about taking corporations to task for their fiscal and mission responsibilities.
I'm talking about woke-shaming one another---everyday people who are our brothers, sisters, cousins, coworkers and peers.
Let's face it: The whole concept of shaming is far from new. When someone knocks a curvy sis for wearing a two-piece bikini, that's body shaming. When a brother shuns a sis on a date for the number of dudes she let smash, that's slut-shaming. When hardcore entrepreneurs frown upon the motivation of 9-to-5 hustlers, that's job-shaming. When a single mom faces gets cussed out for leaving her child at a babysitter to go on a date, that's mom-shaming.
Don't think you've witnessed---or even participating in---woke-shaming? Well, let's take a look at a few examples:
A black influencer, but you didn't post a black square on your Instagram for Blackout Tuesday. Sis is uninvited to the Woke Brunch. A black professional who chooses to offer support to certain organizations that promote messaging centered on unity and education. Homegirl is considered white-washed and oblivious. She's "cancelled."
A black person expresses different political views than the so-called norm or "majority." Nah, bruh. He gotta go. His black card is declined, denied, and revoked. Maybe someone waited a few days to post anything related to current events. They needed time to research, vet sources, strategize high-impact ways to join the conversation, or practice self-care. Nope. No mercy. They're permanently blacklisted and barred from the cookout.
Oh, and don't dare post on social media or talk about a graduation celebration, a new job, your wedding anniversary, or the birth of a new baby. Oh, hell nah. You can't be happy right now. You can't continue with life right now. You can't possibly be surviving and thriving.
People, have more than a few seats. Please. You're missing the whole point.
Listen, it's one thing to be totally tone-deaf and ignore the fact that police brutality is real and disproportionately affects communities of color. (I mean, that's a known fact backed by studies and statistics.) But it's another to shame someone for how they choose to react to that fact. We all have the right to process information, take a step back, and evaluate our role in what we will do with that information. We also have the right to decide what our place in history will be at times like this.
Dynamic and effective activism always involves the tactful and strategic use of diverse talents, efforts, and strengths. Some of us are great at fundraising, networking, and communicating. Some of us are artists, speakers, and tech geniuses. Some of us are nurturers, hosts, and spiritualists. Some are hell-raisers, warriors, and protectors. It's OK if we aren't all doing the exact same things or taking the exact same approach to reach a common goal.
Take the Civil Rights Movement: Martin Luther King, Jr. was a key figure,but there were many legal, financial, strategic, and political leaders behind the scenes who ensured the success and advancement of that movement. Some pivotal people in that moment were not always on the frontlines of protest; They donated funds for legal fees, food, and other expenses tied to nationwide protests. They held secret meetings and hosted safe houses. They also offered a very invaluable asset: relationship capital. (Yeah, the type of capital where you can make one phone call and meetings are being coordinated to discuss changing policies, launching nationwide initiatives, appointing new leaders, or approving budgets---that relationship capital).
Former President Obama touched on this back in 2018 when he said during a lecture:"Democracy demands that we're able also to get inside the reality of people who are different than us so we can understand their point of view. Maybe we can change their minds, but maybe they'll change ours. And you can't do this if you just out of hand disregard what your opponents have to say from the start."
When we shame others for differences in opinion or approaches to achieving a common goal, not only are we promoting divisiveness where unity would be more effective, but we're alienating essential allies.
Speaking out against irresponsible silence or plain disrespect is one thing, but dissing someone because of their approach to activism is just plain ignorant. Let's all shift focus to the common goal at hand: Fighting for justice for the thousands of people of color killed due to police brutality and making real changes to the systematic strongholds that have facilitated those murders. Let's show what smart, strategic unity can do in the face of hatred, bigotry, and wickedness. Let's endear ourselves to one other, have respectful conversations about perspectives and find ways to work together. The success of this movement depends on it.
Featured image by Shutterstock
The Mecca Of Fashion: The Top Street Style Moments At Howard Homecoming
Outfits were planned, bags were packed, and cameras were ready to capture Howard University's collegiate spirit during its centennial Homecoming celebration. Not only does it hold the number one ranking as the most elite Historically Black College and University or its top performing academics, diversity of students and alumni, but the HBCU also leaves a legacy of style and grace.
The essence of effortless poise and refinement shines bright through the iconic university colors of indigo blue, red, and white. Every October, Howard University students, alumni, staff, and friends gather on the prestigious campus in Washington, D.C. to take part in time-honored traditions and events, which is Homecoming. This year's theme, “The Meccaverse,” was a week-long celebration of Howard University’s heritage, including the Homecoming football game and Bison Pep Rally, the Fashion Show, Greek Life Step Show, Homecoming Day of Service, Lavender Reception, and the iconic Yard Fest Concert.
As 2024 marked the 100th anniversary of the Howard Bison trek back to The Mecca and after two years of virtual events due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this was to be a celebration of a lifetime. We enlisted HU alumnus Sharmaine Harris, a luxury retail buyer, as she revisited her alma mater as eyes on the yard for fashion-forward outfits mixed with personal style and campus pride for the weeklong celebration.
Before we get to the looks, discover how attending Howard University impacted her career in fashion and her day-to-day style:
Credit: Sharmaine and Friends
xoNecole: Describe your personal style. Did attending Howard have any impact on developing it?
Sharmaine: Howard taught me that there’s no such thing as being TOO dressed. There’s always a reason to “put it on” and look presentable, even if it’s just for a day of classes. Standing out was celebrated and encouraged with my peers embracing the opportunity, giving me the confidence to try new styles and trends.
xoNecole: How did Howard shape your career as a luxury buyer?
Sharmaine: I studied Fashion Merchandising, through which I was fortunate to have professors who were very connected to the industry and able to give first-hand accounts of opportunities and what to expect post-college. I was also able to build a network through my peers and other Howard Alum, which has opened doors to endless possibilities both within fashion as well as daily life.
The same confidence instilled in me through my style has also been rooted deeply within me as I step into any role or project I’m faced with throughout my career.
xoNecole: This year marked Howard’s 100th-anniversary Homecoming celebration. Can you describe what the weekend looked and felt like?
Sharmaine: I’ve gone to many Howard Homecomings since graduating, but this year’s 100th anniversary felt like a huge family reunion filled with nothing but love. It was beautiful to see so many Bison return home looking great and radiating joy. It was beautiful!
xoNecole: What makes Howard fashion different from other HBCUs?
Sharmaine: Being that Howard is The Mecca, we have such a diverse population with each individual having their own spin on fashion. Getting dressed is second nature for us, but the layered confidence is our secret ingredient to make any look come together. Through that comfortability to push barriers, we have a legacy of setting trends, as indicated by the many alumni we have in the fashion and entertainment industry.
Keep scrolling for the top street style moments from The Mecca's Homecoming weekend:
Credit: Lacey Gallagher
Credit: Alan Henderson
Credit: JaLynn Davis
Credit: Dylan Davis
Credit: Caleb Smith
Credit: Kendall W.
Credit: Jordyn Finney
Credit: Vanessa Nneoma
Credit: Dr. Mariah Sankey-Thomas
Credit: Caleb MacBruce
Credit: Tiffany Battle
Credit: Teniola
Credit: Ilahi Creary
Credit: Nicolas Ryan Grant
Credit: Dylan Davis
Join us in celebrating HBCU excellence! Check out our Best In Class hub for inspiring stories, empowering resources, and everything you need to embrace the HBCU experience.
Featured image courtesy of Sharmaine Harris
We Had A Strong Connection IRL But My Instagram Scared Him Away
If you scroll past anydating guru’s free advice, such as dating coach Anwar’s, they often promote a long-curated list of dos and don’ts, advising women on how to attract the ideal relationship.
“When men are looking at your pictures on social media or on dating apps, they’re making two assessments: one–affordability, and two–seriousness.” Dating coach Anwar said. He recommends women curate their pictures well by minimizing skin and avoiding posting too many traveling pictures which don’t represent your full life because men are trying to envision themselves in your life.
I certainly don’t believe in shrinking the essence of who I am just to bag a man –whether in-person or online– including for the one thing that brings me pure joy: my worldwide adventures. By now, it’s common knowledge that social media is only a shiny highlight reel that doesn’t take into account all aspects of real life.
I’m fortunate that the men I date in my late 30s are mature enough to understand that notion, but in the past, I’ve learned the hard way that many men are, in fact, judging women’s social media accounts to determine if they are a perfect match.
While trying to stay afloat in grad school, I managed a week-long promotional gig for a festival concert. I stumbled across a breathtakingly handsome guy engrossed in curating melodic sound production as an audio engineer.
Fine enough to giveBridgerton’s Regé-Jean Page a run for his money, this tall cutie had glistening caramel skin, big brown eyes, and a gorgeous smile that radiated across the conference center.
My heart practically stopped each time I glanced at him. I caught him conspicuously glancing my way throughout the day, too. Our energy was magnetic. I couldn’t let him get away without making it very apparent I was feeling him. Ten hours passed before we found ourselves drawing near one another. Dating co-workers is against my rules, however, dating someone I’ve met after completing a temporary gig was an exception I’d happily make.
Serotonin oozed throughout my body when he approached me. We engaged in meaningless talk, while I anticipated he’d ask for my number. Instead, he asked, “What’s your IG name?”
I’m old school; I want to get acquainted chatting on the phone until twilight–or on a well-executed romantic date. I accepted his request and followed him back. Baby steps.
Each time his adorable face popped into my mind, a rush of happiness flooded me. I’d already conducted a pre-check for a potential relationship, and based on absolutely nothing but chemistry, he had already passed. Scrolling through his page, I could see he had three, incredibly young children, from ages two to five. That’s okay, I can play step-mommy. Or so I thought.
The next morning, I swapped out my motivational morning gospel music for my vibey, R&B music. I floored the gas pedal, speeding to work in hopes of getting to the fine audio engineer as quickly as possible.
I sashayed through the conference doors with an extra sway in my hips–smitten and glowing as my bright eyes landed on him, standing by for sound check. He took one blistering look at me, and as time stood still, his scathing disapproval made me feel as though we were arch-enemies with unfinished business.
What happened in the less than twelve hours we met and were apart? I was flabbergasted by his bait-and-switch of emotions. The only culprit, I surmised: freaking Instagram.
A few hours of him ducking and diving to avoid me passed. I put my grown woman panties on and marched over to him. He pretended he couldn’t see me through the corner of his eye, but judging from the nervous stiffening of his erect posture and locked jaw–even through his discomfort, he would have to face me.
“Hey, how’s it going? You’re different today,” I said casually, yet resolute, peering deep into his wide eyes.
“Well, you know, it’s cause you’re big time. I’m just a regular guy.” He quipped. Completely confused, I stared blankly at him, waiting for an explanation.
“Your Instagram...” He confirmed like I had full knowledge of his insecurities.
“If I had seen your page before I met you, I would’ve never tried to talk to you. I’m not good enough for you.”
I melted into a puddle of vexation. I wasn’t a celebrity or social media star. Hell, I didn’t even have more than 5,000 followers! I’m a regular girl who’s had a career in entertainment which has afforded me many opportunities to attend swanky events; I love upscale travel and dining at Yelp’s highest-rated star restaurants–and yes, I relish capturing those delicious moments. But at that time, I was a broke girl in grad school, making a few coins on the same gig I’m certain he was earning a pretty penny for.
He’d already taken over my thoughts, feelings, and body’s desires in a short twenty-four hours. Though he was far from aware of all the ways he had swept me off my feet without stepping foot on an actual date, the energy between us was undeniable. I literally couldn’t stop thinking about him and grinning since the moment I saw him, and I know for sure he felt the same. And now he’s thinking he isn’t good enough for me?
He was fine, humble, funny, had a sexy physique, and a lucrative career, yet for some ridiculous reason he’d convinced himself he could never be with a woman like me? I was floored. Typically, I’m not forward with men in the initial stages of dating. It’s important I feel highly desired and sought after before I explode candidly. But the world was going to absolutely know that day: “I like you. You’re someone I’d like to get to know. And you’re absolutely perfect for me.”
He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. I felt empowered, quelling his feelings of inadequacy. (Or temporarily, I shall say). I’d soon learn that if a guy was harboring major insecurities, the idyllic lines to boost his ego are merely fleeting.
Pumped up on an extra dose of courage, later that day, he asked for my number. And I delightfully obliged.
We spent a good amount of time expressing our mutual feelings towards each other and perused through calendar dates to see when our schedules would match up. He lived in Las Vegas, but working as an audio engineer for major events necessitated him to spend most of his year traveling across the country and internationally. Still, I was determined to make it work.
And yet, it didn’t work. Despite my insanely busy grad schedule, I was ready to trek to Vegas or whichever country he visited, except his insecurities overflowed like putrefying lava. I probed to see how involved he was with his baby mama. Ya know, normal stuff. Somehow, he took that as a jab.
“You don’t want to date me because I have three kids, huh?” Again, he left me confused and exhausted because I was absolutely ready to become a bonus mommy to the right one.
Despite the endless times I cleared up what he thought was a problem, boom! another insecurity flared up. Coddling a mid-thirties man, who had thee lowest self-esteem I’d ever encountered was dooming.
A few months passed and winter had descended upon the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. I’d just left a snazzy art gallery Chiwetel Ejiofor hosted for his independent movie premiere. Park City is a magical and frosty cold, picturesque town in January. Most of the festival events are situated on densely packed Main Street. I stepped my leather boots outside onto the icy, uphill sidewalk, with a platonic male friend in tow. My phone rang–it was audio engineer bae. I noticed his name and pushed decline.
“You ignoring me now when you could’ve easily picked up the phone?”
What in the hell?! I peered around on both sides of my street, cautiously nervous.
I hopped into the black SUV. The festival traffic moves slower than molasses. You could gingerly walk down the street and still beat a moving car. As the driver slowly peeled away, I glanced to the opposite side of the art gallery street; there I saw old bae, forlornly staring at me, saddened with puppy eyes in his hooded Parka. I was busted. In my defense, however, I hadn’t heard from him in months, and us dating was certainly a never-ever-going-to-happen-closed case.
How was I supposed to know he’d been watching me from 150 feet away? No human in their right mind would expect an immediate answer, but he did.
“Hey, sorry, but it’s really hectic; I gotta hurry to this next event.” I apologized despite not owing him one. If he’d crossed my mind at any point up until now, it’d be futile. His recurring insecurities ate at him and thus, swallowed any attraction or potential traction for us.
By the time my plane landed in sunny Los Angeles, he unfriended me on IG. Exhausted from the nonsensical mental gymnastics, I unfollowed him, too.
Finally, we agreed: the feeling is mutual, boo.
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Featured image by Charles Olu-Alabi/Getty Images