What's My Favorite Word? GIR-

Ok, so this is clickbait…kinda. lol

While the title may indicate something a little more risqué, this is actually a story about friendship.

To add, this is from a draft I began in 2021 that I’ve decided to continue to completion.

So anyway..

Back in the summer of 2019, when my girlfriends, Michelle and Jordan, still resided in NYC, we met for a park date at Brooklyn Bridge City Park.

Somehow the stars had aligned, because I ordered a rideshare to get to the park, and when we stopped to pick up the co-rider, it turned out to be Jordan! What were the odds?

Between me, her and Michelle - three girls, barely making it - we managed to procure blankets, food, cups, and drank for what would be an evening of girl talk, fellowship, and views of New York City by the water.

Once we had our spot in the grass and our setup together, we started talking and sharing life updates. Nothing was going right, and if you have a girl group, you know all too well how venting can quickly spiral into a self-bashing pity party. This was us.

Rent was high, money was low, and life was just HARD.

Finally, after we had shared all of our career, relationship, and life failures, Jordan lifted her finger and twirled it around, saying, “Alright, share something good. Go.”

And we went.

You wouldn’t believe how many good things were happening for us by the start of that conversation, because the lows were at the forefront.

It turns out that we had just as many positive things going for ourselves as we did the seemingly negative.

Fast forward to 2024, we recently linked in a similar setting, but this time, in Atlanta.

The update? Ain’t nothing changed but the change!

In fact, when we locked eyes at the entrance, we greeted each other with laughs. Not the kind that would follow a punch line at a comedy show. More like the kind that signal a sort of silent understanding of life and each other.

It - life - still be whoopin’ our behinds, but we have matured and glowed up so much, since that day in the park.

Most importantly, we are still those girls that know that even when things are falling apart, something beautiful is coming together.

To friendship.

The Right Place at The Right Time: How Me and My Mom Bagged An Exclusive Telfar Bag

My Mom and I bagged an exclusive Telfar tote on a whim, during her New York visit!

As you may know, the Telfar brand is highly recognizable and their handbags, which are black-owned, are hard to come by, so when my mom and I spotted the logo at a store near canal street and a short line to enter, we stopped to join the entourage.

Mind you, we had no idea what we were getting in line for, but my mama be knowing.

She turned and whispered “it’s a pop-up,” and giggled with excitement.

She was right!

It turns out Telfar and the outerwear brand, Moose Knuckles, had collaborated on an exclusive line of apparel, which included ski jackets, pants, headbands and bags.

In terms of the specs, there were a few options for bags, including medium and large sizes, but they were sold out of the medium-sized bags by the time we got there. To add, they also offered a nylon option or leather option. Of course, that leather bag went HARD, but money talks and mine…wasn’t talking. LOL

A lot of people have inquired, so I do have to share that it was a limited offer, but Telfar is coming out with a similar puffer bag that everyone can try to snag online.

Anyway, I absolutely love my bag and pulled it right out of the plastic to carry. See flicks below!

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It's Been Real, 2020: Year in Review

Wow, it’s really the end of the year! That’s crazy to me.

Looking back, 2020 has been unlike any other year I’ve ever experienced. What started — for me, anyway — as a big a** party, quickly spiraled into a reality I couldn’t have dreamt or foreseen, if I wanted to.

I mean, really. The first three months hit all the spots with vacations, concerts, BRUNCH, house parties and so much more, but from there on I just remember waking up and confronting the unbelievable reality that quarantine and police brutality were life. I was sick!

Although I’m ready to slide headfirst into the new year, it’s still important to reflect on this year and reshape my perspective from simply harboring the bad events to appreciating the good ones as well.

While I cannot diminish the traumas that came with seeing Black people hunted and killed freely or the effects of this pandemic uprooting me from my “normal” life, I can absolutely find pleasure in the things that brought me joy.

“& it goes a lil sumn like this”

— Quad City DJ's

January

I went to Puerto Rico with my best friend and cut up something good. Just look at us. LOOK. lol

We really turned up and it was a blast! One of the unexpected highlights of this trip was that my good sis and I had a conversation about my debt-free post and during that conversation, she told me that it inspired her to embark on her own journey. She even pulled up her notes where she kept a screenshot of the blog post. *tears.*

Spottieottieblackgirl.com in Puerto Rico. <3

Words of affirmation are definitely in my top 2(category: love language), so the fact that she had read my blog and affirmed my/its impact really touched me. <3

Read: How I Paid Off My Student Loans

February

Chi-town babyyyyyyy! I left a cold New York City for an even colder Chicago, which is not exactly recommended, but I really enjoyed myself.

My itinerary, which I created as I went, was simple and cultured. In short, I satisfied my appetite with some fried catfish and grits from Lizzy J’s Cafe, caught some views at Lake Michigan, learned a lot of rich history from the DuSable Museum, and got me a word from the Lord at Fellowship Chicago. Oh, and I visited the original Garrett popcorn for the first time. My 3-day trip was made. Gotta love it!

March

Man, what can I say?! I traveled to Antigua SOLO, although not by choice.

It was challenging for me to work up the nerve, and truthfully speaking, your girl was scared as a mug, but my God said, “turn down for what? I have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.” And he ain’t never lied.

This was one of the best experiences of my life. I’d love to summarize it again, but there’s no way to do it right, so just head over to the “travel” tab and see for yourselves. It was amazing.

Also March: A state of emergency was declared and NYC shut down. I booked a week-long trip to come home and I’ve been in ATL since.

April

Distressed! I just remember waking up thinking “I cannot believe this is life.”

Like…a pandemic? Forreal?

Then, as if matters weren’t already worse enough, we learned about the slayings of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor. WTF. Fury, pain, distress, disgust, anxiousness, worry, and really all the things. The world had Black people f*cked up.

At the same time, my best friend had gifted me a book entitled “Eloquent Rage” and that kept me busy during this month. While I never wrote about it, this book made me feel seen; so much so, that I was moved to organize and promote my first official book discussion.

May

May 3, 2020, Spottie — I — hosted 12 women for a book discussion on Eloquent Rage!

I was joined by my homegirl, Charell Strong, and together we moderated a thoughtful conversation that touched on domestic violence, dating as a Black woman, Christian theology for Black people/women, and other concerns raised in the book.

One of the beautiful things about this conversation is that non-Black women were present to participate. This was important, because we, as Black women, know our struggle, but women from other backgrounds often do not. It reminded me of what my Women’s Studies classes intended to teach me, which is that we — women and men — should be aware of each other’s strife and stand in the gap together. It was everything, and I was happy.

But, the pandemic continued and so did my quarantine woes. Nothing was the same and that was unsettling to me.

May 31, 2020, a white police officer was seen kneeling on the neck of George Floyd. He murdered him. WTF. Fury, pain, distress, disgust, anxiousness, worry, and really all the things. The world had Black people f*cked up.

June

1st week of June: That’s it. I’m getting a therapist and working through the things because I just mf’in can’t no more. This has been one of the best decisions of my life. I can’t even begin to explain the benefits of unpacking your stuff and learning how to keep your mental health in check! It’s beautiful.

On June 12th, Rayshard Brooks was shot from behind and he was killed. WTF Atlanta. There it goes again. Fury, pain, distress, disgust, anxiousness, worry, and really all the things. The world had Black people f*cked up. It was something about the fact that just four months earlier he had opened up about criminal justice system’s way of disenfranchising Black people to no end.

One June 16th, I went to the local commissioner’s meeting and blasted them for taking taxpayer dollars to pay for a plantation. Oh, the cuss words I wanted to say but didn’t. The world be having Black people f*cked up!

JUNETEENTH. Wow, Black people were recognized nationally and a holiday near and dear to our hearts was observed. It was up for us.

Oluwatoyin Salau. Riah Milton. Dominique Fells. #protectBlackwomen

I got a promotion! :)

Me, on Juneteenth, headed to get Nana’s chicken and waffles “to-go” in celebration of the Black history.

July

I went back to NYC to pack up my tings and move out of my apartment. Being back in the city reminded me of how vital it is to have your own personal space. I unlocked some creativity with my first and — as it stands — only vlog post on the topic “self-care.” I toured my favorite spots in my Brooklyn neighborhood and made peace with my temporary move.

August

Intellectual conversations about WAP? Yes. I am open to many perspectives, but mine was this: let Black women do what they want. People never put the rap boys under a microscope, but yet they leap at the opportunity to tear Black women down. I reject that.

Also, I met a boy. It’s worth mentioning, I had met a few boys up till this point but I also deaded them off the smallest of things. I just truly would not allow myself to date a person with, you know, flaws that might drag me down into the abyss… I was truly no-nonsense(to an extreme), but that kept me at a deficit and I was tired of it. Girls need love. Anyway, I opened myself up to the idea of receiving love, being vulnerable and trying something new.

September

Ain’t I Woman? Spottie’s Book Club took on Melissa Harris Perry’s “Sister Citizen” and unpacked the stereotypes of Black women in America. This included the mammy, the jezebel, and the angry Black woman stereotypes. We also talked about the Crooked Room theory and the analogy of Black women being born into a crooked room(America).

Cornbread shawty. Granny gave me a tutorial on making cornbread from scratch. I mean…do I really need to say anything else?

October

Staycation alert. Your girl needed to get somewhere and calm down! So I did. I booked one night at a hotel in downtown Atlanta, put my phone on DND, and recentered myself as a number one priority. It was heavenly. Sometimes, you just need to switch it up and change your environment to get your mind right. For me, this did it. Nothing could blow my high.

November

A blur really. This was a sad month for a lot of reasons, but here are some moments that brought me joy:

“Thou shalt move on to the next””

— Destiny's Child

December

December already? Man, where did the time go.

This month I made peace with the fact that some things just don’t work out. I gave myself space to feel and grieve(so dramatic…lol) and now I’m back in a space to try again, and again and again. til sumn shakes! Not for nothing, therapy is largely the reason I am able to experience and triumph over pain. 10/10 recommend.

Most importantly, my riders and I took it wayyyyyy back to where it all started with holiday photos. Man I love them! <3

In Conclusion

All in all, was this a trying year? Yes. Hard asf. But, there was still a lot for me to appreciate. I have grown so much during this time and reclaimed the woman inside of me in a myriad of ways. I’m grateful for the times of joy, and I’m equally grateful for the strength to persevere through the pain and uncertainty. It’s been a ride!

Heading into 2021, my #1 prayer is that God covers and keeps us all. Be safe yall. <3

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What Death Has Taught Me About Love & Relationships

Give people their roses while they’re here. Photo taken by me in Gamla Stan, Sweden on 2/14/19.

Death has pervasively crept into my space as of late.

From Kobe’s and Gigi’s passing to most recently, my next door neighbor’s. I can only imagine what I’m supposed to take from it, but a few things have not been lost on me. I’ve been more transparent with my loved ones than ever before, I’ve been trying to be better at accepting things as they come and just outwardly appreciating everyone around.

Wellness Check

I left town for Chicago on Friday. I had no idea what to expect for the weekend, so I wouldn’t say I ran out of my apartment ready for the weekend, but I was certainly eager to get there and see what it was about. After all the food, the fun, church, and the weather delays, I touched down to New York and got back to my crib around 2 AM.

When I came up the stairs I noticed a smell coming from my neighbor’s home, but I didn’t think too much into it.

I unlocked my door, dropped my suitcase and immediately hopped into my bed.

By Tuesday morning, when the smell persisted, I begin to worry and quickly called my super to conduct a wellness check. I would later learn that my neighbor had passed away. She was there for days and all I could think was, what if I didn’t make that call? Did she not have any family?

I have thought about this every day this week.

Love

Of course, yesterday, February 14th, was Valentines Day. Time had gotten away from me so much so that I didn’t even realize the day was nigh to plan something cute for myself. I mean last year I was in Sweden, so nothing like that, but maybe something like the year before where the girls and I went to a comedy show at Harlem Nights. I had dropped the ball.

That said, I’ve been sick and shut in since Thursday, so it kind of worked itself out. I left the office early, cashed in on a dose of Nyquil Cold&Flu and went to sleep. I probably would have slept through the night, had my bestie not called me. After I told her I was sick she goes “well feel better, love youuuuu, call me when you feel better.” She was the only call I got that day(which made me think even more).

So now I’m in the group text with my family like “I’M SICK YA’LL.”

You guessed it… as a known recluse and a single adult woman living away from home, it is finally settling in that I do need to let folks know when I’m not alright. That’s actually my responsibility too.

Despite the absence of romantics and the presence of a cold, my mom, who was not feeling well this week either - messaged my brother and me to let us know her and dad deposited a V-Day gift. That parental love is real, infinite and ever present <3

“I’m a known recluse”

Relationships

When people ask me how I like Crown Heights, I always start with “I love it.” After living in parts of the city wrought with poverty and unsightly image I enjoy living in a place that feels more like home, and where I know my neighbors. When I moved away from Harlem, I knew I was moving to a better neighborhood, but I didn’t know community would come with it.

As I was doing my hair this morning, someone rung my door number from outside of the building. I wasn’t expecting anyone nor was expecting any packages, so I pressed the “talk” button and asked who it was. It was a male on the other end, saying “I just wanted to check on you.”

In my head - freaking out and thinking the worst - I’m like, omg who is this pulling up on me like this.

I press talk once more and say “who is this again?”

It was my neighbor from upstairs. He was ringing to chat with me and make sure I was good. In his words, the whole time, going back to the wellness check, he “thought I went on vacation and forgot to take the trash.” =/

Conclusion

Before I could even finish this post…my mom called to tell me a family friend passed.

If you don’t get anything else from this, call your people, talk to them about any qualms you may have(including those about death), and tell them you love them.

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Imagine Me

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." -Matthew 11:28-30

Imagine waking up in the wee hours of the night, feeling in despair and looking for solace.

You open Spotify - your go-to music streaming app - because, if you’re like me, music is your outlet, and you need an out let.

You immediately search for a Gospel playlist, because although the Trina’s and the Khia’s speak to your emotions, only Gospel can really soothe your soul.

You look and quickly select one of the first playlists you see and press play.

“Broken spirit” by Mali Music plays first.

Whew.

You were looking for a song, but you didn’t know you were gonna get this one. 🙌🏽

It ends and Greg O’quin’N Joyful Noyze’s “The Conversation” plays next. It’s one of your favorite worship songs, so you’re not only comforted at this point, but also, you’re impressed. It’s the compilation.

You add it to your library and play it over the next few days consistently, and each time you are comforted a little more than you were the last.

Finally, you’ve boarded a plane and taken off on a 6 hour flight to Paris(I know. It sounds far fetched, but stay with me).

You’ve read majority of the pages left in the book you’ve been reading,, you’ve watched a movie and now you just need to feel; so, you grab your headphones and open the app again.

You go to the Gospel playlist and click “Shuffle Play.”

“Song of intercession” plays first. “For Every Mountain” [plays] next.

You feel and you worship and you thank God for where you are, even though you might not have chosen to be there on your own.

You know He has seen you through before, so you trust that He’ll do it again. You just don’t know when.

Regardless, you’re grateful for the reminder and the gift that is this compilation of songs. So grateful that you want to find out who actually made the playlist and make an attempt to reach the person and thank them for putting it together.

You unlock your phone, and you click on the playlist icon. Then, you scroll over to see who created it.

It was you. You created the playlist a year ago.

3.1.18

I was extremely emotional, when I came to this realization. I created something in the past that would bless me in my future. I just thank God for consistently leading me to places, where I can find myself in Him over and over again.

Listen to the playlist here:

Find Somebody to Love You

Source: http://markinternational.info/black-love-art-pics.html

I moved to Brooklyn the other day, and as I was packing up my Central Harlem apartment I took a break to chat with my 65-year-old neighbor next door.

As we sat on his stoop and looked out onto the block, from which I was anxious to depart, we talked a little about its history, as well as the reason I was leaving. 

“This is NYC,” he said, plainly. “If you want a better life, you gotta move out of the city. You’re not going to find it here.”

He, like most other New Yorkers, has a “it is what it is” perspective of this unique place and was trying to convey that moving from Harlem to Brooklyn is more or less the same thing; that if I was truly tired of seeing the gruesome visuals I so often see, I would simply not find the solution in another borough. I get it. 

He went on to say, "you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing now. Paying for experiences(not a better life). You should be hanging out downtown in Chelsea  or somewhere like that; going to all the hot spots," and listing a few.  

 “What are you 25/26/27? You don’t have to tell me the exact age.”

I’m not ashamed of my age, so I was just like "yeah, 26."

"Why are you not married yet?"

He wasn’t being disrespectful, but I still cringed at the question.

I had to let him know that a man of quality and in these streets? No good.

He just looked at me, and as if he was almost done with the conversation he said, "find somebody who’s going to love you. And, if he’s not a  black man, let him love you anyway.”

He says, did you watch the royal wedding with Megan Markle?

"Yes," I said.

"Did you see her husband? What about Serena? Have you seen her husband?"

I had to laugh. lol this man was really trying to sell me a dream. Not my dream, but somebody’s. lol

He followed up, “well did you go to grad school?”

*I cringed again, but this time in I still don’t know what I’m doing with life"

"Nooooooo not yet," I said, in a soft high pitched voice. 

Then, as if he was dropping the biggest gem of all time, he said, “go to grad school and find you a husband.” 

I couldn't believe my ears. It wasn't like this hadn't crossed my mind before, but I’m really not falling for that trick again. I - like many more of my female classmates - thought this was apart of the undergrad deal (laughs in black woman).  

I might go back - for an education - but ain’t no way I’m about set my mind up for this kind of disappointment again..

Anyway, in less than 45 minutes this man told me I was living in la la land. That my first love was my last “in love” feeling I would ever feel; that it was time for me to be married, that grad school was my solution to loneliness, that I’m the hunter and not the hunted in this whole relationship search; that my tall dark and handsome doesn’t need to be dark, and so much more.

But this is where he ended:  

“All I’m trying to say is you need to be open minded. Gotta do something different to get something different.”

To be honest, this was a genuine conversation, he meant well, and I appreciate that talk. I'm not going to say I agree with everything he said, but I definitely heard him. 

"Find somebody to love you..."

 

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Ifeoma

He named me, Ifeoma.

It was the Summer of 2018, and I was hanging out at Le Reve — a popular midtown bar that curated the vibes — with my best friend. She was visiting NYC for the weekend.

We were standing by the bar, when this fella, who was clearly much older than me, but definitely fairly young, started making conversation with me.

He was tall, brown-skinned, and somewhere between muscular and thick…handsome, but yet not exactly my type, so I brushed him off. Kinda sorta… his friend had started to entertain mine, and once they ordered us drinks, I became more and more open to engaging. So we talked.

Me and my childhood best friend on the Lower East Side. She was visiting NYC for the weekend and had your girl in these streets!

Now…I know I said I was straight on him, but as he began to move his lips, I actually started to like him.

We talked and some kind of way the subject became Black people. While I can’t remember what led to this, I know it probably involved me asking him if he used the word “akata” (long story... lol). I’m sure that was it, because why else would we spend most of the night in a club, talking about the thought that goes into naming a Nigerian child?

I can’t call it. lol

Anyway, somewhere along the way, I became curious and asked him what he’d name me.

He replied, “Ifeoma.”

“This one is a great one,” he said pursing his hands as if to give a chef’s kiss.

“The literal meaning is thing great (Ife is to thing and oma is to great).”

He was so engulfed in the explanation, going on to chant other words that would be associated with this Igbo name.

“Beautiful!” he exclaimed.

“Awesome!”

“This one is a great one”

Obviously, flattered by all this goodness he was seeing in me, I was all eyes and ears. He sure knew how to talk to a girl. lol

I listened, as he continued.

“It can mean several different things,” mentioning “something desirable” as one of the possibilities.

And then he drove it - the behavior part - home.

“You have to live up to that name. That name is not just given to anyone”

He went on.

“You cannot just be walking around here anyhow; like your actions don’t have consequences.”

His points were making sense, but I got to thinking, “surely this was not just a name given to girls with the ulterior motive of keeping them in check, as society loves to do.” So, I interjected.

He clarified reassuredly, “No, no, no. The standards exist for girls and boys.”

“Mothers teach discipline. Fathers teach how to be a man.”

I really thought I was about to get in my women’s studies bag then, because what even does it even mean to be a man?

Little did I know, I was talking to one. praise hands

“I was ready to marry him.”

I had foolishly assumed he was talking about finances, since that is how society minimizes manhood up to be, but nooo baby.

“It means you take ownership and responsibility,” he said. “Responsibilities mean boundaries. It’s not about bills. It’s about coming through with the commitment you make. If you make it, you come through with it, and when you have that commitment you’re not gonna go out and act out in ways that jeopardize your family and friend.”

I was ready to marry him.

The night had all but ended and before it did he looked at me and said you’re 25 with an old soul. 😂 He was 38.

We had the best time…and I never heard from him again.

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Rainy Daze, Distressed Girl and a [Black] Man Who Cares

There I was, drenched in water, after walking outside to a downpour of rain. I was holding onto a big box - a package I had delivered to my job - my hook-handle umbrella, cross-body gym bag and my purse, struggling to get from my office exit to the train. 

I was unprepared for the storm. After all, the day started off with weather completely opposite from this: sunny, warm and beautiful. That's the weather I dressed for too.

I had on a nice, white sleeveless blouse, palooza pants and summer pumps with my teal-polished toes hanging all out, looking pretty. I had plans after work, and wanted to make sure my appearance was up to par.  

But, none of that matters at this point. I just need to get to the train.

"It's only a few steps away," I say to myself, preparing to brave the heavy wind and rain.

I start walking, and as I walk, I feel the water sink into my pants. 

"So much for the umbrella," I think. 

I was soaked, but I had finally made it to the entrance of the station.

Now I just need to close my umbrella, make it down the steps without falling in my heels(why did I wear heels?), and keep my package and my purse secure. Cool.

I get to the turnstile, and swipe my card. I'm in. 

Now, I just have to do it one more time. Get down the steps - this time, to the platform - without falling. Keep my package, my gym bag, and my purse secure. 

I make it down successfully, and walk along the platform to wait for the 2 or 3 train. Either will do. 

I'm exhausted at this point, but I'm almost home and any plans I had up until now are canceled. There's no way I could go anywhere like this.

The 3 train comes, and although the 2 would get me there just as quickly, I'm relieved to see this one come first. It's typically less crowded and thus presents a higher of chance of me securing seat.

I get on the train, but to my disappointment, there are no seats. There is, however, an open space next to a seat, where I can stand with all my stuff, so I go there and grab a hold to the the pole. Well, kind of. I had to get in a position that would work for all of my stuff first.

I sling my gym bag over to my side so it doesn't create more space between me and the pole, stand my umbrella up, attempting to nestle it between my knees, and wrap my hand around the pole to get it back on the box which is now between my chest and the pole. I know...it wasn't making sense for me either nor was it working out.

I make a number of failed attempts to shift things around, and just before I get flustered and completely lose my shit, a brotha, standing across from me in a white, sleeveless tank and grey sweats, takes the box and sits it on top of his bag.

I could cry tears of relieved, independent black woman.

Nothing reminds you you're alone more than transporting a ton of stuff in unfavorable weather conditions by yourself.

I was losing control in that moment, but when he stepped in to help, I felt as if a weight had been lifted. I felt supported.

Suddenly, I didn't have to focus on everything, but rather only a few things. I couldn't beat this feeling, though it was for but a second. 

Now, I must admit, I was skeptical at first. I'm conditioned not to trust strangers anywhere, and especially not any strangers in NYC. But in this moment, I had no other choice, and to be frank, he was doing me a favor. So, my skepticism took the back seat to my relief.

I finally get to my stop, and he hands me my package.

"Thank you, again," I say and get off the train.

All the while, he said nothing. And he didn't have to.

His empathy demonstrated by his actions, in my moment of strife, was enough.

The whole rest of my journey home I reflected on what happened. 

"Wow," I say. "It would be really nice if i had someb..." 

Nevermind. I'm home.