The first time you had sex, I'm sure it hurt. But you did it again, and again, and now it feels good. Our brains gravitate to what is most familiar, which is mostly pain. Over time, the hurt feels good and our brains encourage us to keep going back for more.
Three weeks ago, I decided to do a hardcore life purge. I made the decision to sell all my sh*t, let go everything that was familiar to me, and press the reset button on my reality. I've spent the better part of a year recovering from a tumultuous breakup that left my life in shambles. For months, I refused to move on.
Painful snapshots of our relationship are stuck in my head like I experienced them yesterday. Even after constantly reimagining the names he called me, which cut like a knife, or his hands around my neck during our last fight, I couldn't refrain from thinking, "But I love him."
The undying and unconditional compassion that I have for him is the only understanding that I have of love. I am self-destructively empathetic by nature and this characteristic has caused me to develop and seek out a definition of love that isn't true:
Love does not equal pain.
Kelis recently opened up about the emotional and physical abuse that she endured during her four-year marriage to Nas and her story was eerily familiar to my own. She and the rapper met when she was 22 and the two later married in 2005. This is the first and only time the singer has spoken out about her trauma and says that after nine years, she was ready to speak her truth.
"I have edited myself for nine years and I woke up this morning and was like, 'Not today.'"
In the interview with Hollywood Unlocked, Kelis was candid about the couple's avid substance abuse and and explosive arguments. She described in detail the physical and emotional trauma that they've managed to keep out of the public eye for all these years.
"We had like really intense highs and really intense lows. It was never normal. It's hard because there's no balance. There was no normalcy."
She said that an intense combination of fame and youth led them to serve equal roles in an increasingly toxic relationship. Kelis made the decision to exit the relationship when she was seven months pregnant and realized that she couldn't bring an innocent person into a life of chaos.
"It was really dark. There was a lot of drinking. There was a lot of mental and physical abuse. I probably would have stayed longer had I not been pregnant [with Knight] because I really did love him and because we were married. We weren't dating, we were married. Like, this was my person."
Many times we as lovers find ourselves in a similar situation, suffering in silence and trying to rationalize a f*cked up reality because "I love you." So often we as black women equate love to struggle and pain because that's the only example we've ever been given.
When the news broke about the domestic dispute between Chris Brown and Rihanna, Kelis says that she was fighting the same battle, but too embarrassed to talk about it publicly.
"I remember so clearly when the [Rihanna] pictures came out … 'cause I [also] had bruises all over my body at that time, I wasn't ready to walk [away]. I just wasn't. I'm not weak but I'm really private. I don't like people knowing my business. I felt like, 'This is my partner. I chose this. We're gonna do this, we're gonna make it work.'"
Kelis is an example of the fact that most times we cannot fix what was broken before we even got there. Be transparent enough to admit to yourself when your relationship is fruitless. An unproductive relationship is dead and will likely produce toxic results. If any of the following experiences seem familiar to you, it may be time to sew your seeds elsewhere.
Suffering in Silence
Kelis waited nine years to publicly confront the abuse she experienced. Many times we feel like our vulnerabilities make us weak, so we keep them private. We as black women are taught early that what happens at home, stays at home and this theory can sometimes be deadly. If you find yourself constantly making it a point to hide what you're going through from the ones you love, it's time to check in with yourself to make sure you're okay.
You Start Rationalizing Your Reality
He's only jealous because he loves me. We only fight because we're so passionate about each other. I can't really be upset with him, I did a lot of sh*t wrong too.
Domestic violence is never okay, no matter who did what first. If you find yourself making excuses for things that you know aren't right, it may be time to let it go.
The Bad Outweighs The Good
All relationships have highs and lows, but when you notice that the lows are more frequent than the good times, you should evaluate how much the relationship is really taking a toll on your emotional health.
Using External Means to Numb the Pain
We all like to free our minds from time to time, especially if we've had an especially hard day; but look out for signs that you or your partner may be using external substances to ease the pain. Kelis discussed how a lot of the turmoil between she and Nas took place while they were intoxicated, and I know the feeling. Drinking because we're fighting, and then fighting because we're drinking. Make sure you don't get caught up in the cycle before it's too late.
When asked if she believed that Nas was her soulmate, she said "yes."
"I did at the time. I believe in that now, but I don't know if that means it's right. Because it shouldn't hurt like that."
I also believe that my ex-boyfriend was my soulmate, but I understand that the love that we shared wasn't really love. It was pain wrapped up in good sex and a lot of weed smoke, but it felt damn good.
Our brains will always gravitate toward what's familiar: to me, that's pain, struggle, and unconditional forgiveness. As I pack my bags and throw out old birthday cards from my ex, my goal is to create a new paradigm and redefine what love means to me with the understanding that it doesn't have to hurt for it to be real.
Watch the full video below: (Starts at the 15-minute mark)
Featured image via Kelis/Instagram
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- Kelis alleges domestic violence during marriage to Nas | The FADER ›
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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:
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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
These exit polls quickly became the object of Black women’s attention and ultimate disappointment. Because while Black women went out and reliably voted for Vice President Kamala Harris to the tune of 91%, white women handed Trump 53% of their collective vote, Latino women 36%, and women of “other races” 46%.
On the night of November 5, 2024, Black women were left in shock. This shock would morph into disappointment, and the disappointment was a consequence of what, some would begin to argue, felt like, well, betrayal.
Like Rome, though, this heart-wrenching disappointment wasn’t built in a day.
Screenshot from "2024 Exit Polls," NBC News, accessed Nov. 12, 2024.
The Set-Up
On Sunday, July 21, President Joe Biden announced that he would not be seeking reelection - a decision that followed the disastrous one-and-done debate against former president Donald Trump, the subsequent wavering of major donors, and growing calls for a new candidate to run on the Democrat’s ticket. Hours after Biden’s announcement, Vice President Kamala Harris would send Beyoncé's internet into a frenzy by announcing that she would seek the party’s nomination.
That July night, 44,000 Black women assembled via Zoom to stress test the limits of the meeting app, break historical fundraising records, and strategize - subsequently setting into motion a series of virtual meet-ups. As a result, more Zoom meetings cropped up, bringing together attendees connected through countless combinations of backgrounds, orientations, and genders.
One said meeting was held by and for 164,000 “White Women for Kamala” who’d come together to publicly declare that they’d regretted not doing more in 2016 and were ready to use their privilege for the sake of advocacy and allyship.
A woman wearing an anti-Trump button as she listens to Democratic presidential nominee VP Kamala Harris speak at a campaign event on Oct. 18, 2024.
Bill Pugliano/Getty Images
For months, white women made it a point to convince Black women that they were on board - ensuring us that they were ready to seize their second chance at pushing back on the pillars of the patriarchy. The same group who’d failed to answer the call of rejecting Trump’s racist, sexist, and xenophobic antics before swore, for months, that they’d seen the error of their ways and were looking for redemption. The alleged fix? Betting better. Doing more. Voting differently.
While there was an understanding undertone of apprehension from Black women, the rhetoric began to lend itself to hope — with some going so far as to lift the moratorium on cookout invites. There seemed to be a collective sigh. A brief moment of unity.
The Let-Down
Little did Black women know, they were about to be played like a fiddle by the same group who, like in 2016 and 2020, were more interested in their own self-preservation than in actual change. This short-lived hope was dashed on Nov. 5 as the true nature of performative allyship became evident.
Turns out, the Black women who’d served at the helm of the movement, bless their hearts, had been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. Swindled. Like a modern-day Boo Boo the Fool. Believing the hook, line, and sinker, it was almost cute, in a tragic sort of way. They saw the potential, the hope, and the promise, drinking the red Kool-Aid, so to speak, eagerly awaiting the revolution.
The excessive blue hearts and social media commentary pledging solidarity had turned out to be performative or had over-indexed the voices of the 44% who were actually in solidarity. Either way, the seemingly overwhelming allyship wasn’t there, reminding Black women that while they are constantly expected to stand on the front lines for so many, rarely is there any ally who will actually show up for them.
A History of Short-Lived, Self-Serving Allyship
The 2024 election wasn’t the first time we’d seen this type of performative allyship, though. While a noble concept in theory, the kinds of allyship that have been displayed in many movements across The States have far too often missed the actual point. In fact, throughout U.S. history, allyship has actually been used more as a tool to bolster a single group’s positioning in the social hierarchy rather than genuinely advocating for the progression of marginalized groups.
Think back to 2020. Just months after the COVID-19 pandemic forced much of the country into isolation, remote work, the acknowledgment of essential workers as, well, essential, and, for some reason, bread-making. For 9 minutes and 29 seconds, the world watched, helplessly, as a powerless George Floyd was slowly pulled away from the world, drained by Officer Derek Chauvin's knee to his nape. In a traumatic 8 minutes and 46 seconds, the world seemingly changed.
Ira L. Black/Corbis via Getty Images
Protests quickly spread across the globe, and along with it, a wave of “allyship” swept across America. Large corporations, scrambling to answer the calls of Black employees, consumers, and investors demanding that they use their financial prowess to do more to prevent the next Floyd, almost instantly began releasing statements of solidarity, pledging donations to “racial justice” causes, and promising to promote more Black employees.
However, as quickly as these gestures showed up, most were forgotten, with almost all proving to have provided minimal impact on the groups they’d pledged to help. While some companies, like Target, increased their spending on Black-owned businesses, others faced scrutiny for their lack of substantive change.
A study by Color Of Change found that only 17% of companies that pledged donations after Floyd's death had fulfilled their commitments. Data compiled by theWashington Post found that two years after America’s 50 largest publicly traded companies pledged a collective $50 billion to racial justice causes, just 37 had disbursed a collective $1.7 billion. What’s worse?
Ninety percent of the pledged amount - or $45.2 billion - had been allocated in the form of mortgages, loans, and investments that the companies themselves would more than likely benefit from. These companies said one thing and did another and still found a way to benefit from the delta.
Performative Allyship: Civil Rights & Women’s Liberation Movements
This type of allyship is new, though. It didn’t take long for powerful groups to figure out that the simple appearance of allyship was, for the most part, good for business and the bottom line. For decades, powerful entities have publicly supported movements only to be later found to have engaged in discriminatory practices, highlighting the consistent disconnect.
During the Civil Rights Movement, companies issued statements of solidarity and even donated to civil rights organizations, but behind the scenes, they continued to segregate their workforces and refuse to hire Black employees for higher-level positions. During the Women's Liberation Movement, advertisers capitalized on the feminist moment by incorporating imagery and slogans associated with women's empowerment into their campaigns, while the underlying message of many advertisements reinforced traditional gender roles and stereotypes.
The difference between what is said and what is done has time after time exposed the shallowness of allyship, highlighting how it has mostly served as a tool for public relations rather than a genuine commitment to social justice and to the marginalized groups who are most at risk by the upholding of the status quo.
For two election cycles straight, white women posed as allies and still voted in a way that upheld the power structure that they benefit from - with many understanding that the survival of white supremacy is of more value to them than sexism and misogyny is a threat. In 2016 and 2020, 52% and 55% of white women, respectively, decided that they’d rather keep their position of second place in the social hierarchy than risk dismantling it and being forced to find a new place in society.
Latino women and women of “all of the races” followed the trend - blatantly ignoring the warnings of the same Black women who have not only been on the front lines of social justice but who are often called into the lead movements in communities that are not there own - increasing their support for Trump between 2016 and 2025 by 13% and 15% respectively.
Screenshot from "2020 Exit Polls," NBC News, accessed Nov. 12, 2024.
The Blue Bracelets are Going to Be A “No”
On the night of Nov. 5, 2024, Black women watched their country look at a qualified, experienced, capable, and willing Black woman and say, “Nah, we good.” It was on this night that a group that had been denied democratic rights for centuries, but had still attempted to rescue American democracy far too many times, only to be let down, put away the warnings, and began issuing a new declaration - they were opting out.
Black women have decided to lean into rest and recuperation - uninterested in any additional work that will, more than likely, end in disappointment and betrayal. For many Black women, the suggestion to wear blue bracelets as a symbol of solidarity is patronizing and dismissive of a greater and more complex issue. It’s a way to absolve the women who let Black women down for failing to keep promises made while simultaneously positioning the wearer as morally superior.
It fails to address the historically deep betrayal that Black women have experienced at the hands of their country and, more specifically, their own countrywomen. The request reduces the fight for equality to a simple, superficial gesture when allyship isn’t aesthetic and Black women deserve more than a symbol.
While the blue bracelets may be the new fashion choice for white women attempting to set themselves apart, to symbolize that they were on the right side of history, for many Black women, it’ll always be difficult to trust. In fact, it may serve as a symbol of a hollow and fleeting promise for the Black women who have done the tireless and thankless work for justice and equality.
For now, Black women are choosing themselves. Anywhere between a few days and the next four years should be enough time to reset and recoup. And who knows, they may even find the excess capacity means energy to train as pilots, restart forgotten yoga practices, expand the business, or earn that second Ph.D.
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Featured illustration by nadia_bormotova/Getty Images