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  • Nordstrom’s Latest Fashion Collab Spotlights Black Culture

    Nordstrom’s Latest Fashion Collab Spotlights Black Culture

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    Nordstrom
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    While each product featured is independently selected by our editors, we may include paid promotion. If you buy something through our links, we may earn commission. Read more about our Product Review Guidelines here.

    While fashion is far from lacking in the area of collaborations, Harlem’s Fashion Row just created a new standard through its partnership with Nordstrom. The company, which champions diversity by bridging the gap between brands and Black designers, has worked with everyone from Nike and LeBron James to Banana Republic. Partnering with a retail behemoth like Nordstrom, however, hits differently. In fact, HFR founder & CEO Brandice Daniel calls it “a celebration of Black consumers’ cultural and economic power.” Daniel has dedicated her career to amplifying Black voices in fashion, so it was only fitting that she highlighted three monumental Black-owned brands with this Nordstrom collaboration: House of Aama, Harbison, and Megan Renee.

    The Nordstrom by Harlem’s Fashion Row collab arrives just in time for the summer-to-fall transition and features pieces that speak to the longstanding impact of Black culture in fashion. House of Aama’s signature feminine aesthetic is elevated by unique tailoring inspired by African Diaspora Dandy culture. Highlights include jewelry adorned with etching-type motifs you would normally see in antiquity pottery. Meanwhile, Harbison’s designs serve as an ode to his mother, who he says navigated society with unmatched poise as a working-class, utilitarian woman. He was also inspired by Simon Maris’s “Portrait of a Young Black Woman” (1890), where the woman’s eyes reflect innocence and curiosity, communicated in the abstract color-blocking and inviting florals of his designs.

    Nordstrom

    While House of Aama and Harbison leaned into the visceral power of our culture, Megan Renee stuck to the undeniable elan of being a woman. The brand’s eponymous founder Megan Smith is all about celebrating bold, strong womanhood, and her collection exudes just that. Wearable staples with exaggerated shapes and innovative proportions like silky button-ups, faux leather tiered skirts, and the quintessential suit all depict the image of the modern-day phenomenal woman Maya Angelou described.

    Smith’s choice to collaborate with HFR and Nordstrom was a no-brainer, given she showcased her designs at the agency’s annual Fashion Show and Style Awards in 2023. “Retail placement has been at the forefront of initiatives for my brand, and I knew this opportunity would open so many doors,” she says. “Working with Harlem’s Fashion Row is always seamless, and since connecting and working together, I’ve started to feel like they are family now.”

    I built my brand around my love of strong suits and blazers and I feel like the piece really captures not only who I am but the woman I am dressing.

    When the time came to design the collection, Renee found inspiration from an unlikely source: a quote that motivated her to keep going when she found herself at a crossroads and uncertain about the brand’s future. “I was at a point with my brand where I wasn’t sure what direction I wanted to take but I knew I still had more I needed to say to the world,” she says. “I came across this quote by Erin Hanson, ‘What if I fall, but oh my darling what if you fly?’ and that became my inspiration. Once I heard that, it made me think of birds flying so the feathers became the direction for the jewelry and print. I wanted the collection to feel very aspirational and forward. It really helped me envision where the Megan Renee brand should be headed.”

    As for her favorite piece in the collection, Renee immediately names the structured blazer and wide-leg pantsuit. “I built my brand around my love of strong suits and blazers and I feel like the piece really captures not only who I am but the woman I am dressing,” she says. “It’s bold, strong, but still feminine. I played with the fit and proportions that really speak to a woman’s body and it feels very fresh and chic.”

    Nordstrom

    Megan Renee’s full collection is now available to shop, along with pieces from House of Aama and Harbison. With an impressive size range of XXS to 2XL — sizes 00 to 18 for women and S to 2XL for men — and prices as low as $45, there’s truly something for everyone. You can shop directly on the Nordstrom website as well as in 20 stores across the country, including New York’s flagship location. Keep scrolling to shop our favorite pieces from the Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row collection.

    Megan Renee Silk Button-Up Shirt From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion RowMegan Renee Silk Button-Up Shirt From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row
    nordstrom.com

    Megan Renee Silk Button-Up Shirt From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row

    Megan Renee Silk Button-Up Shirt ($179)

    For those days when you’re not in the mood for a white button-down, consider this silk number as an elevated alternative. Go full monochrome with a coordinating bottom, boots, and coat, or wear with sleek black pants.

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    House of Aama Corset From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion RowHouse of Aama Corset From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row
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    House of Aama Corset From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row

    House of Aama Dandy Button-Up Corset ($119)

    This corset is an instant head-turner thanks to its feminine aesthetic mixed with tailoring inspired by African diaspora dandy culture. Pair it with a pleated skirt or striped trousers for a sharp menswear look with a romantic touch.

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    House of Aama Cropped Sweater From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion RowHouse of Aama Cropped Sweater From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row
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    House of Aama Cropped Sweater From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row

    House of Aama Uptown Cardigan ($129)

    This cropped number paired with a ’90s mom jean or pair of low-rise, wide-leg denim is the perfect early fall vibe. We love its bright yet muted tone and functional buttons, which make it a versatile layering piece.

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    Harbison Trench Coat From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion RowHarbison Trench Coat From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row
    nordstrom.com

    Harbison Trench Coat From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row

    Harbison Trench Coat ($229)

    A trench coat is a staple in any fall wardrobe, but not all styles are made equal. This Harbison topper stands out among the rest with its flowing flap and artful belted cuffs — romantic details that capture the designer’s brand ethos perfectly.

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    Harbison Minidress From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion RowHarbison Minidress From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row
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    Harbison Minidress From Nordstrom x Harlem’s Fashion Row

    Harbison Balloon Long Sleeve Minidress ($169)

    In case you were on the hunt for a new LBD, look no further than this standout dress. We love how it incorporates a subtle pop of tan with gorgeous puff sleeves and a dainty bow.

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    Naomi Parris is a New York-based fashion and beauty writer with over seven years of experience. She served as an editorial operations associate at PS, specializing in all things fashion. Obsessed with telling stories that merge fashion and culture, her areas of expertise include Fashion Week coverage, daily news, high-profile interviews, shopping roundups, and beauty stories.

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  • Back-to-School Fashion Taught Me an Important Lesson on Disrupting Stereotypes

    Back-to-School Fashion Taught Me an Important Lesson on Disrupting Stereotypes

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    PS Photography | Jessica Andrews
    Getty
    PS Photography | Jessica Andrews

    On many a frantic morning in my teenage years, my mother would yell upstairs from the kitchen for me to get dressed faster. “School isn’t a fashion show,” she’d say. Little did she know, the hallowed halls of my high school were indeed a runway — and my getting-ready process simply could not be rushed. Each day had a sartorial theme that I had painstakingly planned for weeks, even months.

    One week, I embraced my newfound love for purple and wore a lavender-hued outfit each day. Another time, I discovered Baby Phat and wanted to be among the first to wear it to school. The cat pranced on the back of my bubble coat as I sauntered from class to class.

    This newfound hobby only intensified on the first day back to school. For me, back-to-school outfits set the tone for the entire year, serving as a visual marker of one’s evolution. With my first-day-of-school ‘fit, I was presenting a new me who was cooler and more put-together than the year before.

    After landing a job at Aldo, along with a 50-percent employee discount, I kicked off senior year with a deep-red handbag and matching knee-high boots paired with a cream sweater dress. I needed my outfit to signal maturity — I was 16 and had joined the workforce after all.

    On the first day of sophomore year, I added a feminine twist to the preppy trend that would go on to define my generation. I walked into homeroom wearing a purple wrap dress with a striped scarf casually tossed around my neck, matching with my three best friends of course. That outfit sent the message that I was tapped in enough to know the trends shaping the zeitgeist, but creative enough to make them my own. Meanwhile, my friends and I, pictured below at the homecoming dance, were cementing ourselves as fashion girls (a family member had even affectionately named us the “Glam Squad”).

    PS Photography | Jessica Andrews

    Still, my mother was right: I was in school to learn. My priority should’ve been classes like Creative Writing, Spanish, and (to my dismay) Algebra. I was not there to show off my latest purchases from the local mall. But style was a lesson of sorts for me.

    As fate would have it, I’d fall deeply in love with fashion during that time and go on to work as a fashion editor at women’s lifestyle magazines. In fact, my current getting-ready process for New York Fashion Week closely resembles those frenzied mornings as a teenager, down to the weeks of outfit planning and last-minute, day-of changes.

    Trends have shifted, faded, and returned, but what’s endured is my personal approach to style. As a teen, I knew intrinsically that fashion was deeply intertwined with identity. I was still discovering myself, yet at every turn, I was met with labels: my peers saw me as fun and friendly but very much a nerd; my teachers saw a talented writer and dancer with insurmountable stage fright; my guidance counselor saw a Black girl who was “overly ambitious” and wouldn’t get into a top college — and said as much.

    Yet I knew who I was and yearned to define myself on my own terms. Fashion helped.

    When I put on my back-to-school outfit, it was a way to broadcast my self image to the world. I wasn’t the anxious girl who was fighting doubts being projected onto me — I was powerful and chic and full of creativity and promise.

    Years later, I settled into that grand vision of myself. I made it into a great college and worked my way up the ranks in fashion; I finally overcame my fear of public speaking; and though I am still very much a nerd, for the first time in my life, I kind of like it.

    But long before I became this person, I dressed the part.

    NEW YORK, NEW YORK - FEBRUARY 16: A guest is seen wearing multi colored button up top, black leather skirt, white coat, orange black bag, knee high boots outside Collina Strada during New York Fashion Week on February 16, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by NEW YORK, NEW YORK - FEBRUARY 16: A guest is seen wearing multi colored button up top, black leather skirt, white coat, orange black bag, knee high boots outside Collina Strada during New York Fashion Week on February 16, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by
    Getty Images | Christian Vierig

    I continue to use fashion as a tool of self expression — and as a Black woman, it serves me well. When I put on a bright color, and it pops against my complexion, I’m showing my love for my deep skin tone despite beauty standards that still worship whiteness.

    When I slip on a floral-print, puff-shouldered dress and sparkling metallic heels, I’m leaning into a soft, feminine aesthetic as a Black, career woman who is often branded as “strong” and “hard” when frankly, I don’t want to be.

    When I step out to the Met Gala or the CFDA Awards with braids cascading down my back, I’m disrupting the myth that box braids are somehow not fancy enough for formal events. How can a style that’s such a sacred part of my culture, that’s so intricate and innovative not warrant a place on the red carpet?

    Those days getting ready for school taught me a valuable style — and life — lesson about identity. Now, years later, I’m still dressing in a way that feels authentic to me with no regard for society’s labels. And I’m still taking way too long to get ready.

    Jessica C. Andrews (she/her) is the senior content director of Shopping and PS UK. With more than 15 years of experience, her areas of expertise include fashion, shopping, and travel. Prior to joining PS, Jessica held senior roles at Teen Vogue, Refinery29, and Bustle and contributed to The New York Times, Elle, Vanity Fair, and Essence. She’s appeared on “Good Morning America,” NBC, and Fox 5 New York and spoken on various panels about fashion, hair, and Black culture.

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  • 10 Black Authors Share Their Favorite Books by Fellow Black Writers

    10 Black Authors Share Their Favorite Books by Fellow Black Writers

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    “A Hungry Heart: A Memoir” ($19, originally $22)

    “Now, if I were to tell you that Gordon Parks has written at least three autobiography-memoir mashups, you’d probably ask, ‘Why?’ And I would say, ‘Because this man has Lived,’ with a capital L. Parks was a groundbreaking photographer, film director, author, poet, composer — the very definition of reinvention without limits. Need I say more? OK, just a bit: ‘A Hungry Heart,’ Parks’s final memoir, chronicles the extraordinary life of a man who, from a young age, was on a mission to make his mark. It’s impossible to read this and not be in perpetual awe or turn the final page without finding your own heart hungrier for more.”

    — Mateo Askaripour, author of “Black Buck” and “This Great Hemisphere”

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  • Willow Smith Used Meditation and Workouts to Fuel the Creativity on “Empathogen”

    Willow Smith Used Meditation and Workouts to Fuel the Creativity on “Empathogen”

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    Courtesy of LG Global Life’s Good Campaign
    Courtesy of LG Global Life’s Good Campaign

    Willow Smith‘s “b i g f e e l i n g s” is the final song on her new album, “empathogen.” And, according to Smith, it’s “the most complex piece of music I’ve created in my entire career.”

    “Hopefully not the last — definitely not the last,” she qualifies. “But this one is pretty awesome.”

    The entire record — the 24-year-old’s sixth solo studio album — represents a sonic departure. Ahead of its release on May 3, Smith was a little nervous about putting it out into the world. But mostly, she was energized.

    “I’m a risk-taker, what can I say?”

    “This whole album is different from anything I’ve done, and I’m just so excited for people to hear it,” she says. “You always take a little bit of a risk, but I’m a risk-taker, what can I say?”

    Indeed, Smith has made a name for herself throughout her career for criss-crossing genres and stretching the bounds of her art. And she’s never shied away from being open and honest about how she chooses to live her life outside of music, too. That ethos is very much reflected in this latest album, she says.

    “I think I’m in a place right now in my life where I’m realizing that there’s no destination, there’s only choices every day that we make that bring us through our lives. I want to make the decision every day to be more compassionate, to be more honest, to practice my instrument with deep presence and treat it as a spiritual experience,” Smith adds. “This album is an expression of me coming to that understanding.”

    Even the album art embodies that approach — on the cover, Smith is shown smiling emphatically, her Afro and grillz standing out against an earth-colored backdrop. In another shot, she’s literally stripped down. It all connotes that honesty, that coming into herself. Smith says it was important to be present in her own body throughout making the album. Even if it wasn’t traditional, eyes-closed meditation, she’d just “tune in every once in a while.”

    “Like, can I feel my feet, can I feel my fingers, am I tapped in how my heart is feeling right now, am I tapped into my emotional state right now, instead of just being on autopilot,” she explains.

    It’d be difficult for Smith to be on autopilot right now, given everything that’s going on in her life. Just days after her album comes out, she’s releasing her debut novel, “Black Shield Maiden,” which she co-wrote with Jess Hendel. She’s also a global ambassador for LG and their Life’s Good campaign, a partnership she says was “super on the nose” given her and the brand’s commitment to high-quality audio.

    Amid all the moving parts, physical presence and mindfulness don’t just fuel her creative process; they also help her relax.

    “Pilates also kicks my ass.”

    “Weirdly enough, if I work out, it kind of counterbalances the mental and emotional fatigue. It gives me energy. I know people say that, I know that there are studies on that. But the last thing you want to do after you’ve been working all day is work out,” she says.

    Her favorite workouts right now are hot yoga and “pilates also kicks my ass,” she laughs. She loves running, too, and often listens to podcasts while doing it. Right now, she’s into “The Ancients” (she recently listened to an episode about ancient Polynesian sailing techniques) and the science podcast “Ologies with Alie Ward.”

    It’s very clear that Smith loves to learn. She’s almost done reading “The Dawn of Everything” by David Graeber and David Wengrow, a nonfiction book that looks at how society came to be. “I honestly can’t even really explain it that well because it’s deeply complex and I’m still trying to figure it out, but that’s been really cooking my noodle,” she quips.

    Getting inspired by these other forms of media brings us back to her process. It’s all about getting inspired by the possibilities within other realms. Smith says she loves walking around museums alone, for example, just taking in “all the cool shit.” And in releasing this album back out into the world, she’s keeping that inspiration loop going round and round.

    “I’m just interested to see what people get from this art I’ve been creating, and I hope that it’s a cathartic experience,” she says. That comes back to “b i g f e e l i n g s,” too: “I just want to keep helping people be inspired and feeling like they’re less alone.”

    Lena Felton is the senior director of features and special content at POPSUGAR, where she oversees feature stories, special projects, and our identity content. Previously, she was an editor at The Washington Post, where she led a team covering issues of gender and identity.

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  • No, the Hate Angel Reese Keeps Getting Isn’t “Normal” – POPSUGAR Australia

    No, the Hate Angel Reese Keeps Getting Isn’t “Normal” – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Angel Reese appeared on billboards in New York City for her Reebok endorsement. Flau’jae Johnson signed a rap contract with Jay-Z’s Roc Nation and an apparel deal with Puma. Mikaylah Williams recently inked a deal with Jordan Brand. And several other Louisiana State University women’s basketball team players as well – a squad mainly made of Black collegiate athletes – have excelled just as strongly in the outside world as they have on the court. Witnessing it all has ushered in a new era of Black Girl Magic for myself and many other Black women I know.

    It’s the same joy and insane pride I felt as a Black woman when Reese and her team won the NCAA tournament last year with their edges completely intact, when Kamala Harris was sworn in as the first woman and Black vice president in 2021, and when I screamed front row as Beyoncé became the first Black woman to headline Coachella back in 2018. Things are changing. Awareness is growing. In each of these iconic moments, I thought: people are celebrating us, and soon marginalized communities will no longer be marginalized.

    But similarly to last year’s hard-earned win, LSU’s celebration has been short-lived during this year’s March Madness tournament. Instead of relishing in their success and additional fame, Reese and the rest of the team’s experience has been marked and stained with discrimination, misogyny, and racism.

    “I’ve been through so much. I’ve seen so much. I’ve been attacked so many times. Death threats. I’ve been sexualized. I’ve been threatened,” Reese said tearfully in a post-game interview after their 94-87 loss to the Iowa Hawkeyes on Monday night, which took LSU out of the 2024 NCAA tournament.

    “I’ve been attacked so many times. Death threats.”

    Reese was referring to the public’s relentless interest in attacking her every move. You might remember how she was ridiculed last year for throwing up John Cena’s infamous “you can’t see me” gesture to Hawkeyes star player Caitlin Clark while pointing to her own ring finger to indicate where the championship ring would land. More recently, The Los Angeles Times, which primarily covers UCLA sports, received backlash for an opinion piece that stated LSU is “seemingly hellbent on dividing women’s college basketball” and that Reese is a “taunter.”

    But despite the media painting a picture of Reese as a villain who is undeserving of praise, the people who take the time to get to know her are continuing to back her. In the post-game interview, Johnson strongly defended her teammate: “Everybody can have their opinion on Angel Reese, but y’all don’t know her. I know the real Angel Reese, and the person I see every day is a strong person, is a caring, loving person. But the crown she wears is heavy.” Teammate Hailey Van Lith also came to her defense and said, “I think Angel is one of the toughest people I’ve been around. People speak hate into her life. I’ve never seen people wish bad things on someone as much as her, and it does not affect her. She comes to practice every day. She lives her life every day.”

    While sisterhood is a beautiful necessity (and I’m happy to see Reese’s teammates stand up for her), the support needs to go more mainstream. In addition to blatant racism, it seems much of the public has failed to realize Reese is a 21-year-old woman. And the most intense bashing of someone so young has come from the likes of white, middle-aged men. It’s the David Portnoys of the world who can shamelessly rattle off “classless piece of shit,” or white sports commentators like Keith Olbermann who utter, “What a fucking idiot.”

    History has taught Black athletes, especially women, to be strong and hold their head high amid adversity. “There are so many things, and I’ve stood strong every single time,” Reese said on Monday night. “I just try to stand strong for my teammates because I don’t want them to see me down and not be there for them.” The fact that Reese and other Black athletes feel they need to curb their emotions, trash-talking skills, and other elements of the game exemplifies the double standards placed on Black women athletes. As writer Sumiko Wilson recently put it: “When Black women use their voices, the lightheartedness tends to disappear and the professional consequences and impact to their reputations can be significant. So who is actually allowed to engage?”

    Reese and many other Black women athletes are symbols of hope for me, Black women, and many other misrepresented communities. What she does on the court is a reflection of what can be achieved for those of us who are so often othered. And to continuously overlook her talent and humanity because of her skin color is a disservice to our hard, tireless battle toward equality for Black women athletes.

    Although I am glad that women’s sports viewings have gone up significantly in the last decade – with more new fans understanding that women’s athleticism can be just as exciting as their men counterparts’ – I am growing very weary waiting for the majority to come around. Reese, like so many Black people in the eye of discrimination, is determined to turn the other cheek and take one for the team. “I’m going to always leave that mark and be who I am and stand on that,” she said. “Hopefully the little girls that look up to me, hopefully I give them some type of inspiration.”

    Black women, like all other people, should have the freedom to show up how they choose, despite preconceived standards that have not been set by them. For Black people, our unwavering resilience is the byproduct of this constant adversity. Although I too take pride in this character trait, I wait with eager anticipation for the day where navigating the sports world doesn’t force us to show our resilience.

    As Reese concluded for us all: “Hopefully it’s not this hard and all the things that come at you, but keep being who you are, keep waking up every day, keep being motivated, staying who you are, staying 10 toes down, don’t back down and just be confident.”

    Natasha Marsh is a freelance writer who writes about fashion, beauty, and lifestyle. Prior to freelancing, she held styling staff positions at The Wall Street Journal, Burberry, Cosmopolitan Magazine, British GQ, and Harpers Bazaar.

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  • Emira D’Spain Wants Every Trans Kid to “Give Yourself Grace”

    Emira D’Spain Wants Every Trans Kid to “Give Yourself Grace”

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    NEW YORK, NEW YORK - FEBRUARY 10: Emira D'Spain attends the alice + olivia by Stacey Bendet Fall 2024 Presentation on February 10, 2024 in New York City. (Photo by Astrid Stawiarz/Getty Images for alice + olivia )
    Getty Images for alice + olivia | Astrid Stawiarz
    Getty Images for alice + olivia | Astrid Stawiarz

    You might recognize Emira D’Spain for her GRWM-style beauty videos, or you might know that she was the first ever Black trans Victoria’s Secret model. On TikTok, she shares different aspects of her trans identity with her million-plus followers, and ahead of Trans Day of Visibility on March 31, she spoke to PS about her own journey, gender euphoria, and more. Read it all, in her own words, below.

    When did I first experience gender euphoria? My parents are so accepting of me, so that’s, for me, truly when I always have the most gender euphoria. Just being around my family. And knowing that that’s not an experience that a lot of LGBTQ kids and adults get to experience, that’s something that I become more and more grateful for the more people I meet in the community. It’s something that I hold very close to my heart.

    Lady Gaga is not queer, but she is someone I always looked to because she had such an impact in my coming-of-age as an adult. During middle school, when Gaga was first topping the charts — the era of “Born This Way” and all those songs — she made me feel so empowered that I could be myself and live my truth.

    “[L]ife unfolds in the way it’s supposed to.”

    These days, I have made myself known not only for being trans; a lot of my audience doesn’t even know that I’m trans. I feel like whenever I do talk about it, it’s almost like, “Oh, whoa, I didn’t know that about her.” I think that’s always really interesting. I think most creators who are trans make it part of their content, and it’s something I talk about every now and then. I think it’s cool for me to do that, because people who don’t know that about me now have this different perspective of me. But right now, it’s really inspiring to see other queer creators who are gaining so much success: people living their lives and building their careers.

    My own message for other young trans folks is that it’s all going to work out, things are going to get better. If you’re struggling with people accepting you, you accepting yourself, you living in your truth — everything does truly work out in the end. It’s hard to remember in the moment of course, but over time, life unfolds in the way it’s supposed to. Just give yourself grace and give yourself time.

    — As told to Lena Felton

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  • “The Morning Show”‘s Karen Pittman Would Love to Just Act, but the System Is Broken

    “The Morning Show”‘s Karen Pittman Would Love to Just Act, but the System Is Broken

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    In season three of “The Morning Show,” a race scandal rocks UBA, the broadcast network that serves as the show’s backdrop. The storyline sees Karen Pittman’s Mia and Greta Lee’s Stella strikingly depict the realities of women of color in largely white, corporate spaces like network television. “That’s me and Greta actually, in a real way,” Pittman tells POPSUGAR after speaking at the 2024 Makers Conference on Feb. 28.

    Through characters like Mia and Nya on “And Just Like That…,” Pittman brings incredible nuance to her portrayal of strong Black women who navigate their race in their respective environments, which she opened up about in conversation with “Succession” actor J. Smith-Cameron. The two spoke at the three-day summit hosted by Makers, a community-focused media brand owned by Yahoo that’s focused on accelerating equity for women in the workplace.

    “I pride myself on having characters that don’t resemble me as an actor.”

    For Pittman, identity-driven storytelling is inherently intentional. “I think the storytellers and writers are always looking for ways to imbue your personal, authentic perspective, whatever you have been through in your life,” she says. But for the actor and activist, that authenticity is less about sharing her lived experiences and more about bringing complex emotions to her characters. “I pride myself on having characters that don’t resemble me as an actor,” she explains. “I don’t see any of myself in Mia, and I hope to never see any of myself.”

    THE MORNING SHOW, from left: Greta Lee, Karen Pittman, 'White Noise', (Season 3, ep. 303, aired Sept. 20, 2023). photo: Erin Simkin /Apple TV+ / Courtesy Everett CollectionTHE MORNING SHOW, from left: Greta Lee, Karen Pittman, 'White Noise', (Season 3, ep. 303, aired Sept. 20, 2023). photo: Erin Simkin /Apple TV+ / Courtesy Everett Collection
    Everett Collection

    Instead, she “influences the storytelling” by ensuring there’s depth to her characters. “I remind [writers], ‘Let’s make sure we show the heart of this character instead of just showing she’s a strong woman.’ That can end up being a trope,” she says. She likes to create characters through their “emotional landscape” in particular. “Knowing what the heart of that woman is and being able to convey that to the camera visually is really where I feel like the greatest influence I have as an actor in any story. That is what makes an audience connect.”

    With a high-powered, independent TV producer like Mia, she’s focused on channeling vulnerability, a quality not often associated with Black women on screen. “The writers of [‘The Morning Show’] are always hoping to reflect back the strength and the nimbleness of African American women,” she says. “Sometimes that can be one-sided, so I’m always trying to infuse moments of fragility, softness, tenderness, and suppleness of what it means to be a woman in that job, in the same ways that you might see a white woman in those jobs.”

    Max

    When it comes to Nya, Miranda’s professor-turned-friend on “And Just Like That…,” it was important to Pittman — and creator Michael Patrick King — that she wear her hair in braids. As she puts it, “I think it is important to reflect, especially on that platform, what it is to have an African American woman who completely accepts her naturalness, who isn’t trying to change or look different, who is embodying this construct of Blackness completely, and has decided that she’s going to live in a place of love and education — and to share that intelligence on the show.” Pittman also understands that Nya’s friendship with Miranda allows the opportunity to show viewers what it looks like for a woman of color to build a relationship with a white woman who may not know any other WOC. That’s especially impactful in a series with so much fanfare and generational popularity.

    But while she’s able to start conversations about her characters in some ways, she also acknowledges the challenges that come with being a Black woman in the acting world. In her conversation with Smith-Cameron, Pittman shed light on Hollywood’s cultural reckoning in response to George Floyd’s murder by police in 2020. While there was an initial shift in the industry, she believes it’s since reverted back to the status quo.

    “My white colleagues don’t have to have these conversations.”

    “People are forgetful,” she tells POPSUGAR. “People forget, and as an actor, you don’t want to always have your finger on the pulse of culture trying to teach them or remind them, ‘Hey, we need to pump some life into this.’ My white colleagues don’t have to have these conversations.”

    As with women of color in any field, she’d like to solely focus on the job at hand: acting. “I would love to go into an experience where the only thing that I’m called to do is to bring the full breadth of my craft and not have to concern myself with anything else,” she says. But, as she reminds us, this is the reality for any othered person in our society.

    As Pittman underscored in her conversation with Smith-Cameron, “the system is broken,” and she knows it’ll take time for the industry to progress. But what she can do is collaborate with allies to advocate for the stories and characters they feel are important. “I want to be a human that builds coalition, that keeps common ground,” she tells POPSUGAR. “One of the reasons I love portraying these characters is because they have their hand out for connection; they are reflecting back to the culture. There is space for all of us. Certainly in my career, as a mother, as a human being, that is the way I am in the world.”

    She’s also hopeful for change. “If you’re an actor or if you’re an artist, you are an optimist and an activist,” she says. “And if you’re an activist or an optimist, you believe that humanity can do something different.”

    Yerin Kim is the features editor at POPSUGAR, where she helps shape the vision for special features and packages across the network. A graduate of Syracuse University’s Newhouse School, she has over five years of experience in the pop culture and women’s lifestyle spaces. She’s passionate about spreading cultural sensitivity through the lenses of lifestyle, entertainment, and style.

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    Yerin Kim

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  • Black Women in Country Are Grateful Beyoncé Is Entering the Genre

    Black Women in Country Are Grateful Beyoncé Is Entering the Genre

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    Tanner Adell fell in love with country music young.

    She grew up splitting her time between Los Angeles and Star Valley, WY, which created a stark contrast — but it was the country lifestyle, and specifically the music, that held her heart. Adell remembers falling in love with Keith Urban when he released “Somebody Like You.” And every summer, when she and her mom would set out to drive back to LA from Star Valley, she’d sit in the back of the car and “just silently cry my eyes out as we’d start on this road trip back to California,” she remembers.

    These days, Adell is a rising country music star. And ever since Beyoncé released “Texas Hold ‘Em” and “16 Carriages” on Super Bowl Sunday and announced her forthcoming country album, “Act II,” the spotlight has been on Black women country artists like her. A lot of that attention has been positive; Adell and others say they’re incredibly excited about what this will mean for the genre. But it’s also been a bit contentious. After an Oklahoma radio station refused to play Beyoncé because it “is a country music station,” an online uproar convinced the station to reverse its decision — and ignited a larger conversation around inclusion within the genre.

    “Country music is how you feel, it’s your story, it’s part of you.”

    For Black women artists like Adell, pursuing country music often transcends the difficulty that might come with navigating their identity in a genre dominated by white men. As she puts it, “Country music is how you feel, it’s your story, it’s part of you.”

    The same was true for Tiera Kennedy when she started writing songs in high school. She was a big fan of Taylor Swift at the time, and she just fell into expressing herself through the genre. “I always say I don’t feel like I found country music, I feel like country music found me,” she tells POPSUGAR. “When I started making music, it just came out that way. I was writing what I was going through at the time, which was boy drama. And I fell in love with all things country music and just dove into it.”

    Moving to Nashville seven years ago was “a big deal” for Kennedy in terms of building up her career: “Everyone told me that if you want to be in country music, you have to be in Nashville.” When she got there, she was surprised she was so welcomed by others in the industry, which doesn’t necessarily happen for everyone, given how tight-knit the city can be. “I was super thankful and blessed to have met so many people early on who have opened doors for me without asking for anything in return,” Kennedy says.

    For Adell, too, moving to the “capital of country music” almost three years ago was huge in pushing her career forward. And an essential part of that has been finding a community of other Black women artists. “Oh, we have a group chat,” she quips. “We’re extremely supportive, and I think sometimes people are trying to pin us against each other or even pin us against Beyoncé, but you’re not going to get that beef or that drama.”

    “Country is just as much a part of the fabric of Black culture as hip-hop is.”

    But while these artists have been able to foster a strong community within Nashville, it’s no secret that country music has been facing a reckoning when it comes to racism and sexism. Chart-topping artists like Jason Aldean and Morgan Wallen have recently weaponized racism as a marketing tool, per NPR. In September, Maren Morris said she was distancing herself from the genre for some of these reasons. “After the Trump years, people’s biases were on full display,” she told the Los Angeles Times. “It just revealed who people really were and that they were proud to be misogynistic and racist and homophobic and transphobic.”

    But the reality is that Black artists have always been part of the foundation of country. As Prana Supreme Diggs — who performs with her mom, Tekitha, as O.N.E the Duo — says, “Black Americans, so much of our history is rooted in the South. Country is just as much a part of the fabric of Black culture as hip-hop is.”

    Diggs grew up in California watching her mother, a vocalist for Wu-Tang Clan, host jam sessions at her house. She’s been wanting to perform professionally with her mom since she was a teenager, but it wasn’t until the beginning of the pandemic that they really committed to their joint country project.

    For Diggs, there’s been nothing but excitement since Beyoncé’s commercial came on during the Super Bowl. She immediately ran to her computer to listen to the songs. “And the second the instrumental came on for ‘Texas Hold ‘Em’ came on, I was like, oh my god, it’s happening,” she says. “We are finally here.”

    Tekitha felt the same way. “In the Black and country community, we’ve really been needing a champion,” she says. “We’ve been needing someone who can kind of blow the door open and to recognize our voice is important in this genre.”

    Adell says that given how iconic Beyoncé is, the criticism she’s received speaks volumes about how far country still has to go. “For her to have given so much of herself to the world and when she decides to have a little stylistic change to not just be supported — I don’t understand it,” she says. “I don’t understand why people aren’t just like, ‘This is cool, Beyoncé’s coming out with a country album!’”

    Kennedy tries to focus on the positives of the industry (if she gets shut out of an opportunity, for example, she won’t dwell, she’ll just go after the next), but being a Black woman in America will always come with systemic challenges. “No, it hasn’t always been easy,” she says. “There are so many layers tacked onto that: being a new artist, being female, being Black in country music. But I think if I focused on how hard that is, I would fall out of love with country music.”

    That positive thinking has been paying off; the past week has been really exciting for Kennedy. She released a cover of “Texas Hold ‘Em,” which has since gone viral. After she posted the video, new fans streamed into her DMs, telling her they didn’t even know her type of country, which is infused with R&B, existed. It’s something other Black women country stars are echoing: that the new focus on their contributions to the genre is a long time coming — and a huge opportunity.

    “I’m super thankful that Beyoncé is entering into this genre and bringing this whole audience with her,” Kennedy says. “And hopefully that’ll bring up some of the artists that have been in town a long time and grinding at it. I don’t think there’s anybody better than Beyoncé to do it.”

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    Lena Felton

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  • Dr. Amaka Wants to Demystify Myths About Plastic Surgery and Patients of Color – POPSUGAR Australia

    Dr. Amaka Wants to Demystify Myths About Plastic Surgery and Patients of Color – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Nneamaka Nwubah (Dr. Amaka)

    There are so many aspects of health that disproportionately affect the Black community, and yet less than six percent of US doctors are Black – a deficit that only further harms public health. Many of the Black folks who work in healthcare have dedicated their careers to combatting inequities. That’s why, this Black History Month, PS is crowning our Black Health Heroes: physicians, sexologists, doulas, and more who are advocating for the Black community in their respective fields. Meet them all here.

    It’s not uncommon for doctors to know from a very young age that they’re destined for medicine. That was certainly the case of Nneamaka Nwubah, MD, better known as Dr. Amaka. After experiencing hospitals and loss at a young age, the board-certified plastic and reconstructive surgeon knew she wanted to help people. She just didn’t know how, exactly, until her third year of medical school. The moment of clarity came after observing a mastectomy for breast cancer, followed by two plastic surgeons completing reconstructive surgery.

    “I was like, ‘How is this even possible?’” Dr. Amaka tells POPSUGAR. “At that moment, I was like, this is what I’m doing. It was that crystal clear.”

    At first, she was told it would be too hard and too competitive, and that it would be impossible to ever have a family while working in the field, but thankfully, she stayed the course. “I had to just silence all that noise and focus on the vision in my heart for it,” she says. She ended up matching in plastic surgery, just as she had dreamed, and the rest fell into place. Now she owns a private practice in Nashville and has become known as the person to go to for “mommy restoration,” which is her preferred name for “mommy makeovers,” or customizable procedures that address physical changes that can occur during pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding. Not to mention, she has more than 231,000 followers on TikTok, where she regularly shares informative videos demystifying the world of aesthetics.

    We spoke to Dr. Amaka about her career evolution, how “mommy restoration” surgeries accidentally became her signature, and the importance of representation in the industry – not just on the professional side, but on the patient side as well.

    POPSUGAR: Tell us how you started in the plastic surgery and aesthetics field.

    Dr. Amaka: After residency, I realized I liked aesthetics and cosmetics. So I did a one-year fellowship focusing on the aesthetic aspect of plastic surgery, the refinement; all of the cosmetic aspects of it. We get a ton of reconstructive stuff in residency, but we don’t get a ton of aesthetics, and I just knew I wanted to start out at the top of my game. I didn’t want to learn on the go – I wanted to start off with excellence.

    PS: What made you want to start your own practice?

    Dr. Amaka: After my fellowship, I joined a practice and enjoyed it. But then the goosebumps came again, and it was like, “You’ve got to start your own practice.” I never thought I wanted to do this – I was OK being an employee, clocking in and clocking out. But my heart was set on it, and I couldn’t shake it. So I went ahead and did that in March of 2023. We opened up the practice, and that’s where I am now.

    PS: How did mommy restoration surgeries become your signature?

    Dr. Amaka: It just came naturally. That is the population I relate heavily to. When you walk into a room and it’s another mother, you automatically have a bond. And I felt like I was really good at it. Along the way, I was meeting and talking with moms, and I was like, “This makeover stuff we’re talking about just makes people nervous and makes it sound vain.” So then I just thought, “Why don’t we call it restoration?” So that’s how that whole thing came about. Mothers go through a lot . . . it’s this mindset that I’m supposed to always take care of people; I shouldn’t be doing this for me; this is selfish.

    PS: What does mommy restoration surgery entail?

    Dr. Amaka: Seeing the transformation with everything we do is powerful, but mommy restoration surgery is the most powerful because it’s very functional. You’re walking around and you still look pregnant even though your youngest child is 10, and it impacts you every day. And it’s not just the physical, but everything does look great. The breasts are lifted; the tummy’s nice; they have nice waistlines; but it’s an internal change that you see as well.

    PS: In the plastic surgery field, Black people are underrepresented on both the patient and the surgeon side. How does that impact and influence your mission?

    “A lot of people seek me out from all over the country because of the fact that I am a Black woman and my work is good. They feel like they can trust that I’m going to give them results that they desire.”

    Dr. Amaka: It’s even fewer females, too. I think the surgery fields, in general, tend to dissuade females. When I was trying to come into the field, a lot of people told me, “You really shouldn’t do it. You’re just going to be the only one.” So it was really important to have a presence that people could see. I just always say: “I’m a Black woman with an Afro. There’s no question of what I am, and I’m doing this, and that means you can do it, too. And not only can you do it as a surgeon and be very successful, but also as a patient.”

    It helps justify the patient aspect of it. A stigma, in general, in the Black community is, “Oh, plastic surgery is not for us.” But a lot of times, just being there, being present, makes people feel heard. A lot of people seek me out from all over the country because of the fact that I am a Black woman and my work is good. They feel like they can trust that I’m going to give them results that they desire, but also that I’m going to keep them safe just from that common shared experience.

    PS: In what ways do you think the industry needs to catch up to encourage more Black women to seek out plastic surgery and surgery?

    Dr. Amaka: A way to start is just showing more women of color having surgery. Some surgeons will show a good range, but some of them are just one race. If you don’t see yourself in the before-and-afters, then you think this is just not for me. There are some myths out there. I’ll see women who were told that they’re just going to scar badly because they’re Black, and that’s just not true. So I think another part of it is just demystifying all these myths around women of color and plastic surgery. Even when it comes down to nonsurgical procedures and injectables – showing more women of color getting these treatments or talking about it demystifies it. It makes it seem like it’s for everyone because it is. When plastic surgery first came out, it was very much this elitist thing, but I think people are seeing that it’s doable for everybody and that no one needs to be excluded.

    PS: What inspired you to start creating content on TikTok?

    Dr. Amaka: I actually started doing it as education. Getting new patients wasn’t my initial goal, although it happened naturally. During my first year in practice, I saw a lady in the emergency room who went out of state for plastic surgery, had a really bad outcome, and couldn’t get in touch with anybody. I was like, “What happened?” and she was like, “I just didn’t know.” I felt like she was taken advantage of because of her lack of knowledge, which happens, and that was the pendulum shift where I started talking more and educating. That’s how the platform grew, and then it just kind of evolved into what it is now.

    PS: What’s one specific memory in your job that has really stuck with you?

    Dr. Amaka: That’s tough when there’ve been so many. I’ll say, there was a breast reconstruction situation where it was a patient who had been to multiple different places and just kept having problems and complications. The interesting thing was she had been with some very experienced surgeons. I was new – this was my first year of practice. And you have this thing to overcome whenever you start anything – and even if you’re established in something, too – where you question, am I good enough? Do I belong here? I think a lot of people go through that, and I think people of color probably go through that a little bit more. It’s just reality. So I was like: “Gosh, why me? How am I going to help this lady? She’s already had so many experienced hands on her.”

    So I remember that it was a big surgery, like 10 to 12 hours, and it required a lot of technical expertise, and it was very nerve-racking. But going through that process, getting her healed and to a point where she was doing really well and happy was a big milestone. I still see her yearly just because she feels like she needs to see someone in medicine that she can trust.

    That one stuck out as a moment where you realize it’s not about your experience with this or that; it’s just about your willingness to see a problem and try to fix it and not take no for an answer.



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    Jessica harrington

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  • Black Women Are Giving Themselves the Flowers They Deserve This Awards Season

    Black Women Are Giving Themselves the Flowers They Deserve This Awards Season

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    Black women are consistently underestimated, disregarded, and overlooked in the entertainment industry, but I’ve been so inspired by Black stars’ joy and self-love this awards season. From Quinta Brunson to Niecy Nash, our favorite actresses have already celebrated their well-deserved flowers — and I’ll be watching the upcoming Grammys to see if that trend continues.

    If you’ve missed all the bright points of this awards season, let me remind you of what’s happened so far. During the Golden Globes on Jan. 7, we saw Ayo Edebiri take home her first major award as this year’s best female actor in a television series for her work in “The Bear.” Her acceptance speech made its way around social media for her relatable delivery — but mainly for her acknowledgment of her agents and managers’ assistants. Despite this being a momentous occasion in her career, she took the time to humbly thank and uplift those in “smaller positions” who make doing what she loves possible.

    The following week, entertainers reunited for the 2023 Emmys. It felt serendipitous that the show landed on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, given that multiple Black women won in their respective categories while simultaneously breaking long-standing records.

    The brilliantly hilarious Quinta Brunson took home the award for outstanding lead actress in a comedy series for her role as Janine Teagues in “Abbott Elementary,” becoming only the second Black woman to earn this achievement. Isabel Sanford won in 1981 for her iconic role in “The Jeffersons,” so Brunson broke the 43-year-long streak with her win. That’s far too long a gap. In the intervening years, so many Black women have been snubbed for their work: Tracee Ellis Ross was nominated five times for the award for her work on “Black-ish,” for example, while Issa Rae was nominated three times for “Insecure.”

    Brunson actually broke two records that night — because of Edebiri’s win for best supporting actress, the pair were the first Black women to hold both comedy titles simultaneously in Emmys history. We also can’t talk about history-makers without mentioning Keke “Keep a Bag” Palmer. She was the first Black woman to not only be nominated but win an Emmy for outstanding host of a game show. As the host of NBC’s “Password,” she was also the first woman in 15 years to win in the category. Palmer’s win spoke volumes to me; I never realized how much game shows were a male-dominated space until I saw her win. With one award, she broke a streak for all women — while also breaking a glass ceiling for Black women.

    The true showstopper of the 2024 Emmys was Nash. After winning her first Primetime Emmy for outstanding supporting actress in a limited series for “Dahmer,” she gave an awe-inspiring speech — you’ve probably seen it all over social media by now. What made the moment so special is that it wasn’t about an outside force recognizing her star power; she did that herself. “I want to thank me — for believing in me and doing what they said I could not do. And I want to say to myself in front of all these beautiful people, ‘Go on girl with your bad self. You did that,’” she told the crowd. It was beautiful to see Nash unapologetically celebrating herself, especially after the incredible work she has put into her almost three-decade-long career.

    She continued to accept the award on behalf of “every Black and Brown woman who has gone unheard yet overpoliced. Like Glenda Cleveland. Like Sandra Bland. Like Breonna Taylor.” Seeing Nash highlight self-love so boldly while also acknowledging the trauma that Black women in America deal with daily was incredibly poignant, and paved the way for what I hope we see more of in the entertainment industry.

    “Slowly but surely, Black women are receiving their flowers.”

    Looking ahead to February, we are kicking off Black History Month with the Grammys on Feb. 4 and the BAFTAs on Feb. 18. The Oscars have already come under fire for snubbing Black women, including leaving out Ava DuVernay in the director’s category for “Origin” and Fantasia Barrino and Taraji P. Henson for their roles in “The Color Purple.” But for now, I’m focusing on the monumental year we’ve already had and the celebrations that could come — specifically during the Grammys. My focus will be on Coco Jones, Victoria Monét, SZA, and Halle Bailey; these four powerhouse musicians are bound to dominate this year.

    SZA is leading the pack with the most nominations — nine — for any artist this year. Her critically acclaimed sophomore album, “SOS,” is set to snag a handful of the coveted awards. And after years in the industry as a songwriter, Monét is receiving the attention she deserves for her debut studio album, “Jaguar II.” Alongside her seven nominations, her 2½-year-old daughter, Hazel, has also made history as the youngest nominee ever. Meanwhile, watching Jones being nominated for five Grammys, including best new artist, makes me extremely proud. I grew up with her and have watched her evolution in real-time. Bailey, similarly, continues to shine. Following a monumental year in which she starred as Ariel in the live-action “Little Mermaid,” her debut single, “Angel,” is up for best R&B song, making this her first solo Grammy nomination.

    It is validating to see such talented Black women receive — and win — nominations for their craft. The average Black woman is told to be humble and gracious, never to boast or boldly celebrate our wins. But as Nash, Brunson, and hopefully more stars to come have proven, the tides are shifting. Slowly but surely, Black women are receiving their flowers — not only from leaders in the industry, but also from themselves.

    As a young Black woman, I’m taking notes. I will proudly celebrate my wins as I work toward my dreams and continue to foster my creativity. This awards season has just started, but I am excited to see what else is in store. As Rae would say, “I’m rooting for everybody Black.”

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    Daria Yazmiene

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  • The Art of Black Hair in Period Films – POPSUGAR Australia

    The Art of Black Hair in Period Films – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Image Source: The Color Purple, Fantasia Barrino, 2023. © Warner Bros. / Courtesy Everett Collection

    It’s not uncommon to hear Black actors lament terrible experiences with hairstylists on set. From not knowing how to work with coily or curly textures to being microaggressive toward talent, stylists in Hollywood often leave much to be desired. This is why when a film makes it a point to highlight natural hairstyles and do it really well, it stands out – particularly in a period piece.

    “I love being able to show off the creativity of Black hair in the film,” Nakoya Yancey, hair department head for “The Book of Clarence,” tells POPSUGAR. “From the styles that we chose to the adornments that we used, it was all to further the plotline while staying true to the time that this was set in, which was during the era of Christ.”

    Still, hairstylists who work on Black period films have a particularly unique hurdle to overcome: a lack of reference photos. “There are virtually no pictures of Black people in biblical-era films or shows,” Yancey says. “I looked back at TV shows that my grandmother would watch, like ‘The Ten Commandments,’ to get a feel of the kind of ambiance that we were trying to create, but I mainly relied on pictures of African communities from periods like the ’40s, ’50s, and ’60s.” In the film, you’ll notice hairstyles inspired by the Hamar and Afar tribes of Ethiopia; Fulani braids, which are popular in West Africa; and even Bantu knots hailing from Southern Africa. “I wanted to take all the styles that we knew and add a flair to them,” Yancey says.

    This flair underscores the importance of Black hairstylists working on Black period films. Rather than trying to cover or hide an actor’s natural texture, they make it a point to embrace it. “We wanted to pay homage to natural hairstyles for ‘The Color Purple,’” hairstylist Andrea Bowman previously told POPSUGAR about the film, set in rural Georgia during the early 1900s. “Regardless of the looks that we were doing, both our department lead Lawrence Davis and I wanted to make sure that the look was texture-forward while showing off all of the creativity that can be achieved with coily, natural hair.”

    Styling natural Black hair is one thing, but caring for it between scenes is another. Yet it’s a practice that both Yancey and Bowman say is nonnegotiable. “I am a big stickler about making sure that the actors’ real hair was taken care of and moisturized from the constant styling,” Bowman says. “Detangling and keeping the hair hydrated was an absolute must. It was how we could continuously manipulate their hair and create those period-appropriate looks.”

    Frequent steam treatments are Yancey’s secret weapon for this. “I have a secret oil-in-moisturizer concoction that I created, and pretty much everyone I’ve used it on has fallen in love with it,” she says. “A few dollops of the mix combined with the steam treatment goes a long way in keeping each person’s hair healthy.”

    Styling Black hair is an art, one that should be taken more seriously in the entertainment space. Black talent shouldn’t have to worry about whether beauty professionals will know how to work with their texture. As evidenced by “The Book of Clarence” and “The Color Purple,” when hairstylists and makeup artists are invested in their craft and truly inclusive, the results leave a lasting mark.

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    Ariel-baker

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  • What It's Like to Be Denied an Abortion in Your State – POPSUGAR Australia

    What It's Like to Be Denied an Abortion in Your State – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Getty / Michael B. Thomas

    When Nancy Davis was denied an abortion for a nonviable fetus in her home state of Louisiana in 2022, she took her story to media outlets in an attempt to draw attention to what she sees as a fundamental injustice that disproportionately affects Black women like her. Davis, the mother of an 18-year-old, a 14-year-old, and a 2-year-old, is now an outspoken advocate for reproductive justice. She formed the Nancy Davis Foundation to help other women in similar situations. As part of that work, she has organized the upcoming Voices For Change March on Baton Rouge, which falls on Jan. 21, a day before the anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

    Davis told us about the trauma of being denied critical healthcare, what it was like to travel out of state to obtain her abortion, and why she continues to use her voice for others. Read it all, in her own words, below.

    Last year, my fiancé and I faced an extremely challenging and distressing situation. To make a painful story short, I was denied an abortion for a nonviable fetus. Our fetus was diagnosed with acrania, which refers to the absence of the skull. The doctor pretty much told me that if I continued to carry the pregnancy, she would die within minutes, if not be stillborn. Initially he told me that procedure could be done, but later, whenever I tried to schedule the appointment, we were told we were denied due to the fetus still having a heartbeat and Louisiana’s abortion bans. Louisiana had exceptions in place, but the hospital director didn’t want to risk it – I guess due to them being scared and confused, they pretty much told us the closest place to get an abortion would be Florida. And they wished us well.

    “[I]t was like my heart was ripped out of my body.”

    I just could not believe it. It was already hard enough dealing with the fact that my baby wasn’t going to make it. This was a wanted pregnancy; this was a planned pregnancy. So it was like my heart was ripped out of my body, literally. And even in the ultrasound room – I’m not crazy, but anyone could see on the ultrasound picture that something was awfully wrong. You could only see half of the head. So to digest that as well as being denied healthcare and having to go to a whole different place where I wasn’t comfortable – leaving my family, leaving my children – it was so traumatic. I was emotional the entire time. I felt like we were being left to fend for ourselves in a very hostile environment.

    We scheduled appointments in Florida and North Carolina, because those were the two places closest to Louisiana. We were thinking about driving there. But once everything settled with me, I went to the news station. I just felt like it was wrong and my voice needed to heard. And I knew if I was going through it, other people were going through it, whether it was at that very moment or in the future. I just had to speak up and speak out for myself. And my story went viral. I received so much support.

    Related: 50 States, 50 Abortions

    So I contacted Planned Parenthood of Greater New York, and they contacted The Brigid Alliance. And they literally took care of everything. I didn’t have to worry about having to book our flights, book hotels. They gave us a childcare stipend, a meal stipend. They literally took care of us. I’d been utilizing Planned Parenthood services in Baton Rouge since I became sexually active, you know, 17 or 18. There were times when I didn’t have insurance, and they would still give me the care that I needed and deserved – cervical exams, STD testing, birth control. So when this situation came about and I was researching and I saw Planned Parenthood of New York, I felt comfortable going to them.

    I didn’t have the resources to get the care. If I hadn’t gone public with it and reached out to Planned Parenthood – that was my whole reasoning to going to the news station. I didn’t have the resources. It was like a cry for help, as well as putting these type of situations on notice. That’s why I also feel a sense of obligation to speak out to help as many others as I possibly can. I started the Nancy Davis Foundation for people who are in similar situations. We assist individuals who have experienced trauma as a result of a developmental defect in pregnancy, and we provide support for medical pregnancy terminations.

    “I didn’t want to carry my baby to bury my baby.”

    My whole saying has been: I didn’t want to carry my baby to bury my baby. That’s something I feel like I was being forced to do, and it was just something that under no circumstances was I going to do. But these laws are controlling our lives, and it’s putting our lives in danger. And not only is it hurting us, but it’s hurting our loved ones too. Like my 14-year-old daughter, we still have conversations and she breaks down and cries about it to this day. My mom still breaks down too and cries to this day about it. It is definitely hurting others.

    So we all need to speak up and speak out. Women need to do what’s best for them. Just because you live in a state with an abortion ban does not mean you have to put yourself through trauma.

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    Nancy davis

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  • I Don't Want to Be a Mom, and No, I Won't Change My Mind – POPSUGAR Australia

    I Don't Want to Be a Mom, and No, I Won't Change My Mind – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Despite what a lot of people think, choosing to live a child-free life is not a phase I’ll grow out of.

    When I think about the possibility of bringing life into this world, I become overwhelmingly anxious. Not because I assume I would be a horrible mom or because I have a disdain for children. I adore kids and aspire to be the best rich auntie, but many reasons have led me to this decision.

    First and foremost, having a child is not a decision that I think should be taken lightly. At the end of the day, it’s a commitment to raising a human being – teaching them right from wrong, accepting who they’ll evolve into, and being their guiding light as they navigate the world around them. That is not an easy task; everyone parents differently and every child is unique. While no one is a perfect parent, it takes considerable time and effort to be a great one.

    Nowadays, it’s also a luxury to be a parent. The average person cannot afford to buy a home in most parts of the country, and many are living paycheck to paycheck. In the current economy the only people who can comfortably afford to take care of a child are the upper middle class and above. With the cost of groceries and gas, I can’t imagine adding diapers, daycare, clothes, food, and other essentials to my monthly budget. It would be fiscally irresponsible for a lot of people to have children right now, myself included.

    Even taking the financial element out of it, as a Black woman in America, motherhood and pregnancy are extremely unappealing to me. Did you know that Black women are about three times as likely to die during childbirth compared to white women? Black women’s pain and discomfort are consistently ignored in medical spaces. So much so that even Serena Williams nearly died while giving birth to her firstborn, Olympia. She had to advocate for herself because most of her doctors weren’t listening to her concerns and instead invalidated her pain. If the greatest tennis player of all time was not being treated properly, what do you think the likelihood is that an unknown Black woman would be met with the same or worse treatment?

    And if I survived childbirth in America, what happens next? What happens when a beautiful Black child is brought into this world? (Spoiler alert: it’s not sunshine and rainbows.) Not only would this child be brought into a world amid a climate crisis and one constantly riddled with war, but this child would be a target of violence. How often do you see a story about a school shooting? How often do you hear about an innocent Black child being killed by a police officer? These atrocities happen so frequently, we’ve become desensitized to them.

    I don’t want to bring a life into this world and have it be lost like the lives of Elijah McClain, the students at Uvalde, and the thousands of beautiful Palestinian children in Gaza. They all deserved to live, grow old, fall in love, and follow their dreams, but they never got the chance. The world is a very dark place, and I can’t in good conscience bring a child into a world that I wouldn’t have chosen to be in.

    Even taking the state of the world out of the equation, I want to live a life where I am my top priority. No matter what the reason is, if you choose to be child-free your decision is just as valid as someone who desires to be a mother, because having a child changes everything. A child should be the center of their parents’ world – their happiness, their health, their safety, their well-being should always be top of mind.

    But for me, I want to live a life where my focus is on me and my community. I love being a part of my friends’ and families’ villages. Choosing not to have kids allows me to invest in the children in my life already. I want to help bring joy to their lives and help lighten the load for their parents. That works for me. If that makes me selfish, call me selfish. It’s my body, it’s my life, and it’s my choice. I’d rather regret not having children than regret having them.

    Related: This Reproductive-Justice Advocate Says “We Should Be Fighting For More” in 2024

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    Daria yazmiene

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  • The New “Mean Girls” Cast Looks Different Than the Original — and That's the Point

    The New “Mean Girls” Cast Looks Different Than the Original — and That's the Point

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    The very first shot of the 2024 musical reimagining of “Mean Girls” is a vertical frame. Two characters, Janis (played by Auli’i Cravalho) and Damian (Jaquel Spivey), film themselves singing a song that sets the stage for the story to follow. They’re troubadours for the TikTok set — and this is a “Mean Girls” for a new generation.

    The Cady Heron, Regina George, and Aaron Samuels of the original film, released in 2004, had never seen an iPhone — those wouldn’t debut for another three years. “Instagram,” “Twitter,” and “Snapchat” would have sounded like gibberish. Karen was just a name, and Donald Trump was just a business mogul.

    Twenty years later . . . well, things are different. We’ve seen not just a technological revolution, but a cultural one. More Americans have become more aware of how rampant racism and discrimination — from microaggressions to hate crimes — are in this country. And while we still have a long way to go, people have a greater understanding of the harm caused by failing to adequately represent a diversity of identities on screen.

    In 2004, the original film did make jokes about racial stereotypes (“If you’re from Africa, why are you white?”), but it didn’t go so far as to cast a person of color in any of the main roles. (Actually, that was a joke in the original movie, too: Kevin G asks Janis if she’s Puerto Rican. “Lebanese,” answers Janis, played by Lizzy Caplan, who’s white.)

    The new “Mean Girls” cast is notably more diverse than the original, and the cast tells POPSUGAR that they’re grateful for the ability to bring their characters into 2024 by integrating more of their individual identities.

    “I got to bring a little bit of myself to the character,” says Bebe Wood, who plays Gretchen Wieners. “I was talking with [director Arturo Perez Jr.] and he was like, ‘Wait, I heard somewhere that you’re Latina . . . We should just add something in there.’”

    “[I]t was exciting to add just a little nod to my heritage within the role.”

    The addition to the script was small — a single mention of her abuelito — but for Wood, the impact was huge. “I’ve never been able to play Cuban American before,” she says. “So it was exciting to add just a little nod to my heritage within the role.”

    Avantika, who plays Karen Shetty in the new film, was similarly grateful to be able to embrace her background on screen. “It really meant a lot when . . . at the initial table read, [screenwriter Tina Fey] was like, ‘Is there anything about the name like Karen Smith that you want to change?’” Avantika says. “And I was like, ‘I’m South Indian, I’ve never gotten to play someone who’s openly South Indian, and I speak Telugu at home; would it be possible to bring in the last name from my culture?’ . . . And so we decided on Karen Shetty. That’s really special to me that [Fey] gave me the space and freedom to bring that.”

    Karen isn’t the only character to get a new name: Janis Ian is now Janis ‘Imi’ike, reflective of Cravalho’s Hawaiian heritage. Cravalho wants to get to a place where diversity in film is the rule, rather than the exception. “Every film that I’m in, I get asked about: ‘Why is representation important in films?’” she says. “Thank you for asking me that question — but can we move on a little bit? A space that I’m trying to move out of is being asked always about, ‘How important is it to you to be the first pioneer?’ I am excited to open the doors and just break through. [But] I don’t want to be the first.”

    This name-claiming is especially meaningful in a film where name-calling and misnaming cause so much harm. The Plastics, “fugly slut,” “dyke” (in the new version, updated to “pyro lez”): they’re all names and labels doled out like candy-cane grams, and the students of North Shore High feel the burn.

    “Maybe you don’t label me and I won’t label myself and I can just be whatever I want.”

    Spivey says that he tries to ignore labels that other people stick on him; they aren’t the truth, he says. “Even in the film, Regina calls Karen stupid, so therefore Karen feels like she’s stupid. But I have a strong feeling if Karen didn’t listen, she wouldn’t feel stupid. You know what I mean?” Spivey tells POPSUGAR. “So for me, I think a lot of people can be like, ‘Oh yeah, you’re a plus-size queer actor.’ I am, but I’m also just an actor. So maybe you don’t label me and I won’t label myself and I can just be whatever I want.”

    This sentiment is echoed by this generation’s Regina George, Reneé Rapp. Rapp is openly bisexual (and has hinted in prior interviews and on social media that her Regina might not be as straight as the character’s relationships with Aaron Samuels and Shane Oman might indicate). But she also makes clear that only she has the right to comment on her sexuality.

    “I’ve come out a lot of different times in my life and with a couple of different things, and it recently has changed a lot for me,” says Rapp, perhaps referring to her portrayal of Leighton Murray, a college freshman who comes out as a lesbian on “The Sex Lives of College Girls.” “But I cannot tell you how many times I’ve received comments in the last month or two that are just like, ‘Oh, congrats on [coming out] again,’” she says, her tone changing to the vocal equivalent of an eye roll. “And I was like, bro, actually fuck you. You suck.”

    There’s power in claiming and coming into your identity. And the people who try to put you in a box or use your individuality to hurt you? Rapp is right: they suck.

    Angourie Rice says she’s learning to let go of the opinions and expectations others have of her — not unlike her character, Cady Heron. “When I was 17, I had a really great year in terms of work and publicity, and it was my final year of high school and I graduated. And that felt like a really successful year for me. I think when you’re a young person working in the industry and you get success at a particular point in your life, there’s maybe a pressure to sort of stay at that point in your life,” she says. “[You think], ‘Oh, that’s when I got the most validation, therefore I should be like that always.’”

    But Rice is looking to grow and sees how relying on external affirmation for her sense of self-worth could be holding her back. “For me, [I’m working on] releasing that constant need for validation because I got it so much at this particular point in my life,” she says. “I’m not 17 anymore.”

    Stepping into the role of ultimate teen heartthrob Aaron Samuels came with similar pressures for Christopher Briney. But in playing Aaron, “I just tried to be Chris,” he says. “I really wanted to break free of expectations of what I thought people wanted to see when they see Aaron Samuels.”

    It takes a special kind of environment to be able to foster so much freedom and vulnerability in the actors’ performances — and the cast says they felt supported by one another immediately.

    “The friendships came easy. It was so easy, so fun to work with these people. I loved it so much,” Rice reminisces. “I think also we were all so committed to making the movie the best it could possibly be, and I learned a lot from both Jaquel and Auli’i. Auli’i stands up for herself so much. Jaquel is one of the funniest performers I know. And so just being in a room with these two people and learning so much from how they work and who they are was a treat.”

    Spivey agrees. After all, he says, Fey set the tone from day one that the whole film is about high school — that you have to have fun for it to really translate. As he puts it, “It’s an actor’s dream to be able to step into a space and feel comfortable enough to play — and to play as much as you can and discover.”

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    Abbey Stone

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  • The Magic of Hairstylists Affirming Your Natural Hair – POPSUGAR Australia

    The Magic of Hairstylists Affirming Your Natural Hair – POPSUGAR Australia

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    Image Source: Courtesy of Dove

    For most of my career as an editor, I’ve had a recurring nightmare. In it, I go to a hair event, and instead of being happily welcomed into the hairstylist’s chair, they stare at my natural, type-four hair blankly before exclaiming, out loud, that they don’t know how to work with my texture. Mortified, I leave the event fuming because, admittedly, my hair is rather “difficult” to deal with.

    In reality, this has never happened to me so blatantly, but I would be remiss not to mention the many times that I’ve forgone having my hair washed to stay within the allotted time of the appointment or have had a stylist claim that they have experience with type-four hair, only to be left with terribly blended extensions or a half-done “silk-press” that frizzes up an hour later. It’s the reason I barely accept these invitations to begin with – I sometimes leave feeling worse about my hair than when I went in.

    With this background, when I have an experience for work that goes well, it stands out. At a recent event with Dove, I had the pleasure of sitting in celebrity hairstylist Lacy Redway’s chair. From the moment I sat down and her assistant, Shoshana Contaste, washed my hair with the new Dove Scalp+ Hair Therapy Density Boost collection, the duo constantly reaffirmed how much they loved my hair, and how manageable and how soft it was. At one point, they even said how easy it was to work with and I, very unexpectedly, found myself almost starting to cry.

    As someone who grew up with combs breaking in my hair and people telling me how much they fear doing any sort of hairstyling on me, this was the first time that I had ever heard the words “your hair” and “manageable” in the same sentence. Before sitting down, I had begun to apologize to them because I didn’t get a chance to detangle my hair ahead of time, and Redway’s response was, “I will stay here until midnight if I have to – you won’t be leaving my chair unsatisfied.”

    The experience underscored just how important the role beauticians, especially hairstylists, play in people’s lives. Redway made me feel seen and, more importantly, affirmed. Everyone should be granted that luxury when they go in for a service, whether they are a beauty editor or not – and especially no matter their hair texture. To me, that’s just as valuable as walking out with a great hairstyle (which, of course, I did).

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    Ariel-baker

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  • This Reproductive Justice Advocate Says “We Should Be Fighting For More” in 2024 – POPSUGAR Australia

    This Reproductive Justice Advocate Says “We Should Be Fighting For More” in 2024 – POPSUGAR Australia

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    As we wrap up 2023, the impact of the Supreme Court’s decision in June 2022 to overturn Roe v. Wade is coming into clearer focus. Just this month, a decision by the Texas Supreme Court denying a woman a court-approved abortion set an important legal precedent around medical exceptions. And, looking ahead to 2024, the fate of abortion will be on the ballot in a dozen states.

    Communities of color have always been disproportionately affected by restricted abortion access. That’s why organizations like In Our Own Voice have sprung up – to address the inequality that has existed for so long and to seek reproductive justice for all.

    We spoke with Regina Davis Moss, president and CEO of In Our Own Voice, about what voters should keep in mind heading into 2024, what’s at stake for the Black community in particular when it comes to restricted abortion access, and more. Read it all, in her own words, below.

    It’s really important to understand that for Black women in particular, Roe is just the floor. It has never been enough. It’s always only centered the fact that we should have legal protection of abortion, which is absolutely the case, we should. However, we have always been challenged as Black women, girls, nonbinary people in terms of having the access. At times, we’ve also been challenged when we wanted to get pregnant in the first place; we’ve been sterilized without our consent.

    That is one thing that I always want to lift up – that while it does feel like a new era for a lot of people, for Black pregnant people, we’ve always been subjected to reproductive oppression. Now everyone knows what it’s like to be potentially surveilled and criminalized for trying to exercise your bodily autonomy.

    “Abortion is a matter of survival.”

    But the impact of the last couple of years is clear. It’s everything from providers being confused about what they can and can’t do; increased risk of intimate partner violence; life-threatening pregnancy complications; surveillance with at-home abortions. It’s really important to note that despite all of this, what I hear overwhelmingly is that abortion is a matter of survival. And whether we have political protection or not, people will still seek abortions. That’s ultimately going to drive people toward places where abortions are being provided by people who are not trained, and people are going to die.

    Disproportionately, women who are seeking abortions are already financially insecure. You have to overlay this with where we see the most restrictive abortion bans and where there are voter restrictions – in the South, you have the largest Black populations, and it’s where you see the most voter disenfranchisement as well as abortions bans and the highest maternal mortality rates. There’s absolutely no coincidence there. The goal is to keep people disempowered. When we’re not empowered and financially insecure, that pushes people into deeper poverty.

    “The goal is not just reproductive justice; it’s human rights.”

    What we’re trying to do at In Our Own Voice is to get people to vote with the reproductive justice lens. Because reproductive justice is a larger framework that’s basically asking people to go beyond abortion politics and intentionally welcomes in people from other movements, whether that’s economic justice, environmental justice, workers’ rights. The goal is not just reproductive justice; it’s human rights.

    We really focus on getting people to vote with the reproductive justice frame, because that’s really about advocating for human rights, advocating for voting rights, holding elected officials accountable, electing people who represent those values because they’re going to govern in the way that’s reflective of what you want. It’s also not just about national elections; it’s about state, local elections – it’s every year, year-round.

    Roe as we know it is gone. So we should lean into that and look at it as an opportunity to fight for more. Yes, we need to make sure legal protections are there, but we can fight for more and the things that we always wanted. Like, Medicaid does not cover abortion. Well, who’s disproportionately on Medicaid? So this is an opportunity to get at the access.

    Black women were saying Roe wasn’t enough because when you had things like the Hyde Amendment and you couldn’t even access abortion, what did that matter? We want things like comprehensive sex education, contraceptive equity. All of those things we have the opportunity to address in 2024. My argument will always be that we should be fighting for more.

    – As told to Lena Felton

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    Regina davis moss

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  • The Remarkable True Story Behind “Lawmen: Bass Reeves”

    The Remarkable True Story Behind “Lawmen: Bass Reeves”

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    Writer and showrunner Taylor Sheridan is known for creatively exploring and highlighting aspects of American history and culture in his many acclaimed works, ranging from TV series like “Yellowstone” to movies like “Sicario.” His most recent project, “Lawmen: Bass Reeves,” tells the story of Bass Reeves, a great American legend and Western frontier figure who was the first Black deputy US marshal west of the Mississippi River. In the series, “Selma” actor David Oyelowo plays the role of Reeves alongside a stacked ensemble that includes Dennis Quaid and Donald Sutherland.

    The story of Bass Reeves is remarkable: the real figure behind the dramatized series was born into slavery and, according to some reports, managed to capture more than 3,000 outlaws throughout his career as a deputy US marshal, all while enduring the hardships of racism and prejudice in a post-Civil War America. “I think that audiences today need to see stories of triumph, and he is a man that embodies that triumph of spirit perfectly,” series creator Chad Feehan told Country Living in October. “I think, hopefully audiences are craving that, I know that I certainly am. As well as this idea that we’re all connected by this universal experience of being a human being, and hopefully that will start to break down some of the perceived divisions that exist amongst us.”

    Before you watch the series, which is now streaming on Paramount+, read the astonishing true story of Bass Reeves.

    Who Was Bass Reeves?

    Bass Reeves was born into slavery in July 1838. At the time of his birth, Reeves and his family were owned by William S. Reeves, an Arkansas state legislator, and lived in Arkansas until William relocated to Grayson County, TX, when Bass was 8 years old in 1846, per History. Following the move to Texas, Bass was made to join the Confederate Army with Williams’s son George Reeves and fight in the Civil War. Sometime during his military service, Bass escaped, with some accounts alleging that Bass managed to escape after getting into an altercation with George. His escape led him to Indian Territory, now Oklahoma, where Reeves lived among the Seminole and Creek tribes, gaining knowledge of their landscape and customs and learning multiple languages, as reported by The Washington Post. In 1865, the 13th Amendment abolished slavery and involuntary servitude, which made Reeves a free man. He moved back to Arkansas with his wife Nellie Jennie and went on to have 11 children. But that is hardly the end to Bass’s story.

    How Bass Reeves Became an American Legend

    Due to his remarkable skills, Bass worked as a scout and guide, according to Collider. After nearly 10 years of being a free man, Bass was chosen by Marshal James Fagan as one of 200 deputy marshals to police Indian Territory in 1875 following a rise in murders in the area. Due to his ambidextrous weaponry skills from his military experience, his familiarity of the Indian Territory landscape, and his knowledge of Indigenous languages, Bass was one of the best candidates to catch criminals like thieves and murderers across the 75,000-square-mile area. He was known for using a variety of disguises, ranging from a cowboy to a farmer, to conceal his identity and capture criminals, which proved to be highly effective. Throughout his career as a deputy marshal, Bass is said to have arrested more than 3,000 people and killed 14 outlaws, per History.

    Bass served as a deputy marshal for 32 years, and after Oklahoma became a state in 1907, he joined the Muskogee Police Department, as reported by The Norman Transcript. He worked in the police department for two years before retiring in 1909. One year later, Bass died on Jan. 12, 1910, from Bright’s disease (a kidney disease) at the age of 71. Though the rumors are unconfirmed, some have claimed that Bass served as the original inspiration for the Lone Ranger, an enduring fictional character in American film and TV. Although Bass surely has not gotten the recognition he deserves over the years, “Lawmen: Bass Reeves” attempts to revitalize his legacy and bring attention to his remarkable story. Don’t miss the series, which is streaming now on Paramount+, and watch the trailer below!

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    Alicia Geigel

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  • Janelle Monáe’s “Dirty Computer” Will Forever Be the Anthem to My Own Queer Journey – POPSUGAR Australia

    Janelle Monáe’s “Dirty Computer” Will Forever Be the Anthem to My Own Queer Journey – POPSUGAR Australia

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    This LGBTQ+ History Month, we’re asking writers to reflect on a moment in queer pop culture history that has allowed them to experience queer liberation in their own lives. Check out our coverage here.

    When Janelle Monáe released “Make Me Feel,” the funky hit single off her third studio album, “Dirty Computer,” in February 2018, the song consumed my thoughts. I was 19 at the time, and the year had been a significant one for me – I had been dealing with my parents’ divorce, started rehashing religious trauma, and shaved all my hair off. And on top of all that, I began to question my sexuality.

    But Monáe’s catchy lyrics – “That’s just the way you make me feel” – kept echoing in my head. The song itself was immediately praised as a bisexual anthem, and Monáe’s music video with Tessa Thompson portrayed an irresistible flirtationship between the two.

    At that point in my life, I’d often struggled to put my sexuality into words, so I’d run away from the thought of labeling myself. But something changed that spring, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that “Dirty Computer” was released alongside my own journey, providing a soundtrack to emotions I’d long kept deep within myself.

    Since childhood, I’d attended weekly Sunday service at my Baptist church with my parents and went to a private Christian school from kindergarten to eighth grade. Years of homophobic, transphobic, and misogynist language was spouted from the mouths of my Sunday school teachers and the dean at my school, but that never stopped me from listening to secular music.

    I was 11 when I first heard Monáe’s music, and it was ironically during a Kmart commercial for the back-to-school season, as it played “Tightrope” featuring OutKast’s Big Boi. The catchy track – which happened to be the debut single for 2010’s “The ArchAndroid” – feels timeless and still holds a place on Monáe’s setlist for their ongoing “The Age of Pleasure” Tour. I occasionally listened to “The Electric Lady,” but something clicked when “Dirty Computer” was released.

    Perhaps it was because, alongside “Dirty Computer”‘s release, Monáe gifted their fans an entire 48-minute “emotion picture” of a dystopian and science-fiction scope into a world that began with her character Jane 57821 being labeled as “dirty,” which referenced the marginalized and oppressed. The film and album also introduced me to the concept of Afrofuturism. Little did I know that Monáe’s usage of Afrofuturism throughout their discography portrayed a future full of Black, queer people, one that I felt I could truly belong to.

    In high school, I assumed that my allyship to the queer community ended there – but nothing more. As I surrounded myself with more friends that identified as LGBTQ+ and consumed more queer media via Tumblr, though, I began rethinking my sexuality. I was astonished by Monáe’s unapologetic nature to their Blackness, womanhood, and queer identity, which is something that I didn’t know was possible to do at once. Between the album’s empowerment anthems like “Django Jane” and colorful labia-lined pants from the “PYNK” music video, I quickly became obsessed with the album and attended the “Dirty Computer” Tour three times the following year.

    “Monáe perseveres past the misogynoir, and I’ve been taking notes.”

    Five years later, the entire album feels timeless and as moving as it did on the first listen. In “I Like That,” Monáe made a reference to being called “weird,” and as a Black girl who’s definitely leaned on the “otherness” or alternative spectrum of Blackness, I feel seen every time I listen to it. Their androgynous, suit-forward style has been an inspiration for my evolving style, and their public stance to be a “free-ass motherf*cker” will always inspire me to express myself to the fullest. Beyond style and personality, I’ve admired Monáe’s approach to sexual liberation amid online discourse that has revolved around others trying to police their body.

    Regardless of the negative pushback they’ve received for their music videos or performances that celebrate sexual autonomy and Black bodies, Monáe perseveres past the misogynoir, and I’ve been taking notes ever since my 19-year-old self first listened to “Make Me Feel.”

    Indeed, the summer after “Dirty Computer” was released, I attended my first Pride and haven’t missed an annual celebration since. Although I haven’t come out to a majority of my family, I would hope that my expression of Blackness and gender identity can silently speak for itself. As I revisit Monáe’s discography, I’m grateful for their enduring queer bops.

    In September, I even attended Monáe’s “The Age of Pleasure” Tour at Brooklyn’s Kings Theatre. The three-act show was the second sold-out stop in New York City, and although the night was a precursor to the city’s recent flooding, you’d have no idea that Brooklyn was plagued with rain, thanks to Monáe’s dazzling performance. Described by the singer as a “safe oasis,” the two-hour set was an ode to the pleasure politics of “The Age of Pleasure” while paying homage to the revolutionary queer anthems from “Dirty Computer” and “The ArchAndroid.”

    Five years ago, I may have known very little about the intersection of my queer identity and Black womanhood, but thanks to Monáe’s artistry, I’m able to regularly reflect on my own revolutionary politics and apply them to my life.

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    Noella williams

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  • Unapologetic and Never Underdressed: Black Women’s Power on and Off the Runways at NYFW

    Unapologetic and Never Underdressed: Black Women’s Power on and Off the Runways at NYFW

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    Courtesy of Virginia Cumberbatch
    Courtesy of Virginia Cumberbatch

    In the last few years, we’ve witnessed a renewed urgency and energy around the pursuit of racial equity. And as a racial justice educator and culture writer, I’ve been curious if these commitments to a more just future have manifested as visceral investments — shaping new conversations, elevating new voices, and empowering new agency to shape culture. Three years removed from the impetus of this cultural reckoning (namely, the deaths of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and George Floyd), I’ve questioned whether the headlines, tweets, black boxes on Instagram, and financial pledges were just performative action, and if America’s short attention span would once again undermine the pursuit of a more inclusive and equitable future.

    Throughout American history, some of the most effective barometers of our political posture have been spaces of cultural consequences, and the world of fashion serves as one of those cultural spaces. Indeed, at the intersection of fashion, politics, and culture has always been the Black experience.

    So my curiosity led me to my first New York Fashion Week experience. In conversation with Black scholars, artists, writers, and designers, I attempted to survey the runways and walkways of New York for signs of a new dress code to propel our ongoing protests for our humanity, stories, and style to matter.

    My New York Fashion Week started a week early in the galleries of some of New York’s most inspired museums. After an interview with the founder of The Race and Fashion Database, Kimberly Jenkins, I was invited to a private tour she was hosting of the “Black Power to Black People: Branding the Black Panther Party” exhibit at the Poster House museum. And I was able to experience one of the most brilliant capturings of the power of design, storytelling, and aesthetics to transform culture.

    “I witnessed a reclamation of roots, ancestry, and origins.”

    This beautifully curated exhibit by Es-pranza Humphrey surveys the incredible archives of posters and collateral materials of the Black Panther Party and its decades-long political revolution through design. The combination of a black beret, a black leather jacket, pants, boots, and exposed weapons formed the military-style uniform for the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s, and that look has become an enduring symbol that still articulates political dissonance and cultural determination today. The posters, meanwhile, were used to rally community around education programs, instigate political foes, and energize support for prison-release campaigns. The exhibit was a reminder of the many ways Black people, and particularly Black women, including Kathleen Cleaver, Angela Davis, and Afeni Shakur (yes, mother of hip-hop legend Tupac Shakur), had stylized their revolution.

    It was here in conversation with Humphrey and the images immortalized in the posters on display that the idea of rootedness offered the perfect prism to experience and explore New York Fashion Week. This was further confirmed during my awe-inspiring afternoon at the “Africa Fashion” exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum. I was surprised, yet grateful, for the exhibit’s entry point — a map documenting each African country’s year of independence from its European or Western colonizer. It was as if the curators had invited us to unapologetically bask in the evolution of African fashion, textiles, and aesthetic choices, and smirk at the Western world’s eventual adaptation and at times appropriation of Black brilliance and beauty.

    What lead curator Christine Checinska prioritized in the exhibit was in essence what Black designers, stylists, and taste-makers have known and practiced for decades in America. There is an innate awareness that the adornment of Black bodies — the act of asserting the agency to dress oneself as an expression of mood, personality, cultural practices — is political. And it is this knowledge that reinforces Black fashion as a tool for political articulation and, when appropriate, political dissonance and resistance.

    What was so thoughtfully curated at the Brooklyn Museum exhibit (which is up through Oct. 22) was also on display across the Brooklyn Bridge in several showrooms and runways at NYFW. I witnessed a reclamation of roots, ancestry, and origins with unabashed reverence and eloquence. To be clear, this wasn’t a thematic homage to be appreciated for just this season’s collection; this marked the origins of many designers’ stories and motivation for their work.

    “The Diotima designs are a rebuttal and refusal of the Euro-centric gaze.”

    This was evident in my last (and, with fear of retribution from others, favorite) show of NYFW. A friend of a friend, the talented stylist and editorial director Ronald Burton III, had passed along an invitation to attend the Diotima presentation. Rachel Scott, the brand’s founder, is a Jamaican designer who launched the line just a few months into the COVID-19 pandemic.

    Her love and appreciation for the varied stories of the Black diaspora is vividly present in the literal and figurative fabric of her clothes. The Caribbean serves as her clear inspiration, but just like Africa’s revolution of fashion, it is the reference to the origins of Black presence in the Caribbean that offers a disruptive layer to the story. Her work is intricate and provocative — with seductive cutouts, backless silhouettes, and breathtaking draping of what most Americans would consider nontraditional textiles. By nature, the Diotima designs are a rebuttal and refusal of the Eurocentric gaze and the continued presence and occupation of colonization throughout the Caribbean and the Black diaspora.

    The result of her Caribbean-inspired audacity is a disruption of the fashion industry’s traditions, and the creation of a collection that can only be described as poetic, angelic, and elegant. As Jenkins, who is also a fashion scholar and professor and the former host of podcast “The Invisible Seam,” told me, designs like Diotima’s offer a necessary agency and artistic expression for melanated bodies. “Fashion is in no way frivolous. Fashion is gendered, it’s classed, it’s racialized,” Jenkins told me over a cup of coffee. “In fact, we have some moral and political stigmas that are attached to our clothing. What is often posed to us as Black people, and specifically as Black women, is how well can you work not to disrupt people’s ideology and the hierarchy. [Fashion] is far from being a neutral practice.”

    The Diotima NYFW presentation was a departure from traditional collection debuts. Instead of a seated show, the Diotima team invited everyone to a downtown art gallery where models adorned by Diotima’s latest designs sauntered around the room, sometimes posed along the white walls as if they were 4D art. The models brought to life the interplay of the fabrics — crochet and beads, cotton and linens — reflecting the conflict of the story that is a part of Jamaica, the Caribbean, and most of the Black American experience: the legacy of both slavery and pain, and our collective resilience and beauty. Scott’s artistry is an acknowledgement of that multilayered story, as well as a reclamation of the beauty and boldness of Black identity, power, and cultural autonomy.

    A few days later, after wrapping up my nearly three weeks on the East Coast, I had the pleasure of speaking with Paola Mathé, founder and creative director of the popular e-commerce brand Fanm Djanm. Originally based in Harlem, the head wrap brand continues to source its fabrics from Haiti and across the Black diaspora, but it now calls Austin, TX, home. A few minutes into our conversation, I asked the New Jersey native about her experience at NYFW as a designer. She responded emphatically, “I’m really careful not to call myself a designer. When people ask me what I do in fashion, I say I am a storyteller.”

    I found this admission to be indicative of how her line of head wraps came to be and continue to evolve. A Haitian-born creative, Mathé birthed her line out of necessity and responsibility — a necessity to make her life and hair routine more efficient and easygoing as a server at a fast-paced New York City restaurant some years after graduating college, and a responsibility to young Paola and the many Black girls with textured, coiled hair whose locks and tresses had been policed, politicized, and permed their whole life.

    “I saw there was a problem that needed to be solved — so many people who look like me in New York who want to wear head wraps for convenience and as part of their cultural expression — but never thought it was appropriate or OK in certain settings,” she told me. That resistance of the status quo, the refusal to abide by the social politics that have governed the styling of Black hair and bodies, is innate to the meaning behind Fanm Djanm, which translates to “strong woman,” and articulates a decisive posture to be unapologetic, undeterred, and, if you follow Mathé on Instagram then you know, never underdressed.

    “I think I am giving Black girls, women of color, luxury, because I’ve offered them something that is true to them, true to their story.”

    Both Diotima and Fanm Djanm articulate references of and reverence for culture, context, and history, while remaining committed to an ever-evolving expression of Blackness both in its multifacetedness and collectiveness. Mathé said it like this: “What I realize this New York Fashion Week is that fashion is storytelling. And fashion for me has been a vehicle to tell my story. For so long, fashion has been about luxury, steeped in elitism and classism. But I think of luxury as accessible, tangible, and beautiful. I think I am giving Black girls, women of color, luxury, because I’ve offered them something that is true to them, true to their story.” Diotima offers a similar design lens, one that rejects European style and whiteness as the standard. As Scott offers on her website, “I advocate for a more expansive definition of luxury, one that is not exclusively centered in Europe.”

    In response to my inquiry about the reception of Fanm Djanm by the fashion industry — especially in the aftermath of corporate promises and pledges from leaders in fashion to diversify the runways and their shelves — Mathé had this to say: “I think the fashion industry is unconcerned with my company. And that’s OK. Fashion is such a gatekeeping industry. People with the right connections, with the right story, get granted access. So, I’d rather focus on what I do and who I do it for than spend all this energy trying to fit in and sucking up to the right people.”

    The design ethos of Fanm Djanm and Diotima — alongside initiatives like Aurora James’s 15 Percent Pledge and the Black in Fashion Council, the brain child of Sandrine Charles and The Cut’s Lindsay Peoples Wagner — are indications of how Black women are walking into the future, whether on the runways of Fashion Week or walkways throughout this country. Perhaps it is this approach, this stylistic attitude that sums up the current dress code for Black women — unbothered, unapologetic, and undeterred. And as consistent seamstresses of political, cultural, and stylistic revolutions from the runways of New York to the sidewalks of Jamaica and Austin, never underdressed.

    Virginia Cumberbatch is a racial justice educator, writer, and creative activist and the CEO and cofounder of Rosa Rebellion, a production company for creative activism by and for women of color.

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    Virginia Cumberbatch

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