Prior to becoming a mother, my idea of Postpartum Depression (PPD) was what I saw on TV: the story of Andrea Yates who drowned five of her children in 2001, and the one of Laurel Michelle Schlemmer who also drowned both of her sons in 2014. I remember thinking that PPD was extreme and only consisted of rare cases that happened to white women who just had children. This is not something I easily identified within the Black community, nor would I be able to acknowledge it if it was right in front of me. It was not until I had my encounter with pregnancy and routine check ups with my doctor who later explained PPD and the strong possibility that I could develop this shortly after birth.
Fresh at the age of 18 and a few weeks after my high school graduation, my high school sweetheart and I made the irrational decision to bring a child in this world as our plan to “stay together” due to our upcoming separation. He would be leaving St. Louis in a few days to begin summer classes on a basketball scholarship, and I would be heading 90 minutes outside of St. Louis, three-and-a-half hours from his school, that upcoming August to begin Fall classes. We were uncertain about the status of our relationship and came up with the brilliant idea to create a child, our child, as a means to always be in each other’s lives. Much to no one’s surprise, our already toxic relationship grew even more detrimental as my belly got bigger and we didn’t even last for the delivery of our daughter.
I spent majority of my pregnancy trying to come to terms with the failed relationship, seeking comfort elsewhere, crying and holding my belly telling my daughter “sorry” for making her feel this way, and waking up hoping that I would wake up to blood insinuating a miscarriage because I no longer wanted this.
[Tweet "I didn’t want this baby anymore because he didn’t want me. "]
Fortunately, God had other plans and He carried me to full term where I gave birth to a beautiful, happy, and healthy baby girl two weeks prior to her due date but free of all problems. Her life was just beginning, but mine was just going into shambles. This life that was just making my stomach move into funny shapes was now a human that I held in my arms all throughout the day: feeding, changing, bathing, soothing, and nurturing. I tried my best to follow the suggestions given by my mother, but I was not my mother. I was not any woman that had taken the time to give me any type of parenting advice. Me being without him and my lack of parental awareness were strong enough triggers to send me into a looming depression. I was now responsible for a new life in which all blame would be on my hands if anything were to happen to her. My life had completely changed from the plans I had made prior to graduation.
I was only able to breastfeed for three months due to my rapid weight loss and me not being able to keep up with how much my child demanded milk, and I would start crying at any point and time. I couldn’t stop my child from crying but my mother could soothe her, which left me feeling inadequate. I didn’t feel like me anymore. I can remember countless times that I would leave my phone on the dresser and hand my child over to my mother and leave the house not even informing her of my whereabouts. I never went far; always drove around the surrounding neighborhood, blasting music that would help push me into a heavier state of depression.
It wasn’t until her first birthday that I came to terms with my role as a mother and all that it entailed. “I kept my daughter alive for a whole year” was my thought. Not that I thought I would do something to her, I just didn’t know what I was doing.
This experience taught me that PPD does not discriminate whose life it decides to invade. Any woman who is about to bring forth life into this world is at risk. It also taught me that PPD is not just one blanket experience. It can range from “Baby Blues,” which are associated with moodiness and fatigue shortly after delivery all the way to “Psychosis,” which is associated with frequent thoughts of harming self and/or child. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 80% of new mothers experience Baby Blues while the more extreme end of PPD occurs in nearly 15% of all births.
[Tweet "PPD does not discriminate whose life it decides to invade."]
I reached out to some other mothers about their experience with their PPD and how they handled it:
“It started with feelings of inadequacy. I would be at home with our daughter all day while my husband worked but one could only imagine how I felt when he would come home and I see our daughter favoring him. It worsened when I returned to work. Not only was I not the parent she loved most (in my mind), I felt like I was neglecting her since I'd been away from her all day. I felt so guilty for not being able to stay home and care for my child” –Tania“I moved slow with be everything I did. I wouldn't bath or shower for days at a time, I cut my hair really low because I felt ugly and dirty and filthy and I just made myself look like I felt. I was in cosmetology school at this time and I couldn't focus in school from constantly vomiting and not being able to really participate and be present in my class, so I had to drop out of school and that made my depression worse” –Christin
“I had to have an emergency C-section due to our daughter's heart rate. During the surgery, I passed out. I felt like a bad parent. When my husband brought our daughter to me for the first time, I was disappointed. I thought to myself, she looks NOTHING like me. When my husband returned to work at night, it was just our daughter and I. Those nights were hard. My appetite was all over the place and I became addicted to Sunkist orange soda”- Joi
Either we as mothers or mothers we know have experienced the symptoms of PPD that are considered normal and a part of the new mother role. Symptoms including: feeling sad, hopeless, and overwhelmed, excessive crying, loss of appetite, withdrawing from friends and family, feelings of guilt and inadequacy, etc. If you or someone you know is experiencing these symptoms, don’t take it with a grain of salt. A new mother’s body is going through extreme changes after giving birth and the hormone levels drop rapidly, triggering all types of moods. Every mother is different, so combine this body change with several external factors (broken relationship, history of depression, or addiction to substance abuse). To a certain extent, there is normalcy to experiencing PPD, but be mindful that it could swiftly shift to a serious mental health concern.
It is okay to seek help. As the saying goes, there is no manual to parenting and it truly does take a village to raise a child. Seeking help does not mean we are weak or incapable of raising a happy and healthy child. With acknowledgment, PPD can be treated and overcome.
“I remembered hearing my grandmother say not to allow anything or anyone steal your joy. I started to remember what it was like to be genuinely happy. I wanted to show God I was grateful. I then began to write myself into my calendar. I took time out for me. I took swim lessons, I started Zumba, I started art projects. I opened up to my husband about how I was feeling. Now, I enjoy every single second of my life and of my daughter. She LOVES mommy. And I know that I'm a damn good mother too. I couldn't be more blessed” – Tania“I can’t tell you how, but I felt myself trying to hold on to what and who I thought I was, in every way possible. I got over those initial feels and learned to embrace my baby”- Joi
As a family member or friend wanting to know how you can help, encourage new mothers to seek and receive help, assist with daily tasks, provide opportunities for new moms to get rest. For more information about PPD, visit National Institute of Mental Health and if experiencing PPD, schedule a counseling or therapy session to begin treatment and contact your physician to discuss and/or receive medication.
Have you suffered from PPD? How did you learn to overcome it?
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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:
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
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