I have always been curious. Questioning the systems & bucking them. A lot of times to the dismay of my parents & elders. I’ve always believed there’s more than one way to do something & I do not believe in doing something just because it’s always been done a certain way. As a child, it was frowned upon & adults around me thought I needed to be redirected & disciplined. Now, I consider it my superpower. Because what has to be true about a system for us to feel “safe” building it for someone else, than building it for ourselves? Why is building a well-run home not seen as leadership, when it requires strategy, discipline, foresight & care? A home with systems, stocked food, financial awareness, emotional steadiness, & community connection doesn’t just happen. It’s management, operations & leadership at it’s finest, but because it’s not tied to a paycheck or external sources for validation it gets dismissed.

Black women have been told our value is tied to productivity outside the home, prove ourselves in spaces that denied us, financial independence has been about survival, not luxury & “domestic” has been historically weaponized against us. Naturally, there’s resistance because homemaking for many doesn’t feel like a choice, but something we were forced into before we had options. What if choosing to run your home well isn’t regression, but reclamation? Reclaiming of time [shoutout to our trailblazer & OG Ms. Maxine Waters], skill, nourishment, rhythm & authority. Truth is, we’ve normalized building other people’s systems to perfection, while our own homes are running on scraps, stress & whatever else is left. That’s where the tension lies.

For centuries, Black women cooked meals, managed household, maintained order, care & function, but not always for our own families. It was for white households, often while our own homes were under-resourced, separated or secondary. So when Black women say “domestic work”, it’s weighted. Weighted in history that wasn’t soft, optional or honored. It was expected, extracted & controlled. That’s why this conversation is sensitive for many Black women, especially our elders {Boomers, I’m talking about you] because leaning into homemaking can feel like taking a step back into something we didn’t choose historically. So the resistance is protections. It’s the “I’m not going back there” & “I’m not giving up what I fought so hard for. That deserves to be respected.

I am not talking about retuning that that dynamic. I’m talking about reclaiming authority over the very work were once forced to do without ownership, recognition or choice. What’s wrong with putting more intention into building your own home instead of pouring your best energy into someone else’s business? Why does ambition only count when it’s profitable for someone else?

Not because we have to. Because we want to.

This isn’t telling you to leave your job. It’s about expanding what we consider worthy of effort, pride & what we call ambitious. A woman who knows how to feed her family well, create systems that support her daily life, build a home that people feel safe in, prepare for what’s ahead instead of reacting isn’t a woman that’s doing “less”. She’s doing work that sustains. So maybe the question isn’t “why would you choose that?”. Maybe the question is “why have we been taught not to?”. I don’t have all the answers. I do know more of us are starting to question what success is supposed to look like & for some of us it’s starting to look a lot closer to home.

Do you think running a home well is considered ambitious? Why or why not?

New routines

New skills

New everything

If you’re already holding together a home, a family, a schedule that doesn’t slow down simply because you want to live differently, that version can feel unattainable & out of reach real quick. I’m not interested in overwhelm. I’m interested in rhythm. I’m interested in systems. The kind that actually fits inside your life.

That’s where The Matriarch 15 comes in. Not as another list to keep up with, but as daily practice. 15 minutes to do something your future self will be grateful for. Something small, intentional, & repeatable. Because a well-run home isn’t built in a weekend reset, but in quiet decisions, made over & over again. This is how we prepare without panic. This is how we care for what we have. This is how we build hoes that hold us steadily, daily & on our own terms.

Do your 15, babe.

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The house is quiet in that soft, in-between way.

I move slower on purpose.

Coffee reheated. Maybe twice.

Standing at the stove with no rush to be anywhere else. There’s something grounding for me knowing I don’t have to perform my day. I can just be in it. This is the life & rhythm I chose. Not a life built on urgency, but one that lets me ease into my own home like I belong here…imagine that.

As The Modern Day Matriarch, this is part of the work.

Not the loud, visible kind, but the stead, intentional kind. The kinds that says home will be a place of care, warmth, or something steady & sturdy people can return to or visit. In a world that rewards & pushed speed & productivity, choosing to move like this to tend to my home, family, community & self, it feels a little rebellious. Especially as a Black woman. Soft life, but strongly rooted.

On this chilly Sunday morning/early afternoon, my husband wanted grits. Unfortunately, he’s allergic to all shellfish & seafood, so I started making a bourbon bacon & onion jam. I bring out my InstantPot because it cooks stone ground grits in FIVE MINUTES. I also use my slow cooker to make them overnight if we decide to have grits the night before. This particular dish is great for hosting a brunch because you can make the bacon jam ahead of time & grits in a slow cooker don’t need to be watched for precision.

Let’s get into the deets of this dish.

Grits:

1 cup stone ground grits [The best are from The LaRue Group Southern Queen Grits]

3 cups water

1 cup milk

Chicken Better Than Bouillon

Salt

A knob of butter

If you’re using the Instant Pot, spray your pot with some non stick spray. I use the oatmeal/porridge function on low heat.

Bourbon Bacon Onion Jam:

1 lb of bacon chopped

1 medium or large onion chopped

Bourbon

Maple syrup

Smoked Paprika

Chili Powder

Salt

In large cold cast iron pan, add you bacon to render the fat

When the fat has rendered enough to cover the pan, add your onions & sautee until fragrant. If the onions begin to burn or turn brown, add more fat or bacon grease if you have some like your grandmother did

To the pan, add a cup-ish of bourbon & use your spoon to loosen the fond on the bottom that’s formed & let it the alcohol cook out.

Drizzle with a high quality Grade A maple syrup. Aunt Jemimia/Pearl Milling or Mrs. Butterworth’s wont work here because it will burn

Reduce to a low heater

Season with smoked paprika & chili powder

Let it cook, stirring occasionally until the bacon is cooked. It’s normal for there still to be grease/liquid in the pan

Store in a container refrigerated if you’re making it ahead of time

Buen provecho!

xoxo,

Dee

I understand what she’s saying.

Visibility matters. Proximity to power matters. Being in the room matters.

The missing piece from the conversation is the reality that many of us are actually living in. Because while we’re being told to show up more, be seen, work harder…

Black women are being laid off.

DEI is being dismantled.

The very systems we’re being pushed to lean into are pulling the rug from under us.

It’s time to be forreal. “Being in the room” has never been guaranteed safety. It has never guaranteed a promotion, pay equity & it damn sure never guaranteed peace.

I was raised by a Black woman who did everything “right”. She climbed. She achieved. She pushed through. She went after the titles, the office, the respect. And she got it. I also saw what it cost her. I saw what it took to move through those spaces every single day. I saw what she carried home with her, not just as a professional, but as a wife & mother. That experience shaped me in a way that no thinkpiece or podcast ever could. So while the world calls that success, I was paying attention to the price. I made my decision early on. Ain’t no way in hell that was going to be my story.

While we’re being forreal. Let’s call a spade a spade. We were handed a blueprint that said:

Climb higher.

Work harder.

Prove yourself.

Don’t complain.

Be grateful you’re in the room.

However, for Black women, that came with extra layers & complexities. Code-switching until you don’t recognize your own voice. Being the only one in the room over & over again. Carrying corporate pressure and holding your household together. It’s not just ambition, but testing your endurance. Let’s not confuse the two though.

Corporate America wasn’t designed & built to hold all parts of us safely. Not then & definitely not now. So when the advice is “just show up more”, it ignores women like my mother who already did, the ones who gave everything & still got pushed out & it ignores that effort does not always equal the desired outcome. It’s not from lack or motivation. It’s patriarchy.

So what happens when you start to see all this clearly? You start asking different questions. It’s not about how high I can climb this ladder or shatter the glass ceiling. It’s what am I building that actually sustains me? It’s what does success look like on my terms? What kind of life am I trying to come home to? This is where my work begins.

To clarify, I am not telling women to quit their jobs & start making sourdough.

This is expanding the definition of success.

We deserve more than one pathway.

Some women will stay in corporate & move strategically.

Some will build something on their own.

Some will blend the two.

One thing is true. We all need systems that actually support our lives at home, our bank accounts, our skills & in our communities. That’s the work I’m talking about here.

Ambition can look like a pantry that feeds your family without panic. A home that runs on systems instead of stress. Multiple streams of income that don’t rely on one gatekeeper. A community you can lean on when things shift. This isn’t small work. It’s “good work”. I’m reminded of the cover of my favorite notebook from Danielle Coke about good work. She describe this good work as “Work that empowers and inspires, liberates and transforms, restores and softens”.

This is the part I think is getting lost. Some of us didn’t “opt out” because we couldn’t keep up. We opted out because we were paying attention. We watched what it took to “make it” & decided we wanted something different. Not smaller.

This isn’t about dismissing women who want corporate success. It’s about telling the whole truth. The path exists. It’s just not the only one, or always the safest one.

So if you’ve been feeling that quiet [or loud] pull to build something else…

To center your life differently…

To create stability that doesn’t depend on someone else’s system…

You’re not wrong. You’re not alone. You can still be successful.

This is why I created The Modern Day Matriarch.

Daily practices. Real-life preparedness. Home economics that actually make your life easier. The goal isn’t to just talk about a better way, it’s to actually live.

The Matriarch’s Table takes this a step further. We don’t just talk about it, we’re building it. We’re living it. You can sit with us!

As a lil reminder, you do what works for you. If you want to do all of them on a Sunday, by all means. If your reset day is different, do what you gotta do. This is a template for you to adopt & adapt as it fits your life. My hope is that you do these & create your own rhythm & flow in your home.

If you’re not part of The Matriarch’s Table, I have allowed for a single free preview of a week of The Matriarch 15. Consider now your time to subscribe to the community building the homes, pantries & lives they desire.

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Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

This process adds to the overwhelming part of home economics. For this month’s example of a week of meals, I used the Kroger ad to shop & build my meals. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It has to get done. If you had no other food in your house, which I am hoping isn’t the case, you could eat fairly well for under $100.

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The Matiarch 15 was being posted in a chat thread that doesn’t notify you.

With that said, we’re going to pivot to a daily post like this one here. You should get an email, they will also be under the “posts” section & behind a paywall so not everyone will see them unless they’re part of this co…

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Because when the power goes out, it’s never at a convenient time. It’s 6:16pm, something’s half-cooked, your phone is already in Low Power Mode, & suddenly everything feels louder than it should.

Most of us aren’t prepared because we don’t care. We’re unprepared because no one showed us what “ready” actually looks like [besides those Doomsday Preppers. That’s extreme!]

We do what we always do…

Light a candle, open the fridge way too many times, say “we’ll figure it out” & hope the lights come back on before it’s a real problem.

But a few hours turn into a night.

A night turns into “now what are we eating tomorrow?”

& that’s when the stress sets in.

Not because you’re incapable, but because you’re at the starting line.

I don’t believe in panic buying or overstocking on things you’ll never touch.

I believe in building systems that take care of you before you have to think.

This 14-day tote is one of the systems.

It’s something you build once, tuck away & forget about until you need it.

No scrambling. No guessing. No sending someone to the store in the dark.

Only a quiet readiness that lets you let out a sigh of relief & say “we’re good”.

You’ve got the full checklist.

Everything you need to build your own tote from start to finish.

This is just one piece of a larger rhythm.

At The Matriarchs Table, I take this a step further. I share The Matriarch’s 15… small daily actions that take about 15 minutes. The kind of things that quietly prepare your home, kitchen & life without making it feel like a full-time job.

If this list gives you a sense of relief, The Matriarch’s Table is where we build on that together.

xoxo,

Dee

Some things to keep in mind:

• Get a tote on wheels. It can get heavy.

• Put in foods you’ll actually eat. This is a list with examples.

• This is not meant to replace a go-bag or any other prep you’ve possibly done. This is something you’ll have just for when the power goes out. It can be thrown in the car for an emergent situation as well.

• Get kids involved. Especially with picking their entertainment.

Granny also raised six daughters. Some inherited the cooking joy & gene. My mother could effortlessly fry catfish, make a pot of spaghetti & her famous stuffed peppers when the budget was tight or plentiful. She baked multiple layer cakes for birthdays, hosted “fight parties” & never showed up to a party empty handed.

These are my first memories of anything in the culinary world as a Black American woman.

So imagine to my surprise [not actually surprised, when CBS announced a new culinary competition called America’s Culinary Cup where former Top Chef host, Padma Lakshmi is the executive producer & host does not feature a single Black woman chef. Not a single one. I watched every single teaser, promotional video & even a couple interviews given prior to the premiere episode on March 4. Even the judges are two white men. How does this represent America, when all of America isn’t even represented?

For years, Black women have been continuously overlooked in the culinary space & that was also reflected in cooking shows & competitions. From problematic settings, bias & prejudice in judging, to Black chefs being the first to go home in these Eurocentric cooking shows. It’s nothing new. You’d think Padma knew & would actually DO better. She didn’t.

This exclusion swiftly reminded me of why Black people, women specifically, remind non-Black people that we do not like to be lumped in to the People Of Color [POC] category. As an Indian woman who has spoken publicly about Black Lives Matter, civil right issues & the police brutality in America. She’s shared recipes, her own personal stories about being left out & othered in America. So how does she put her face on something, let alone be the executive producer, when there’s a glaring missing piece of this culinary puzzle to represent the best of the best in America to compete? Disappointed & disgusted, but not surprised because it keeps happening. Don’t worry, Padma made sure to showcase all the Black women she knew at the launch party despite Black women not reflected in the cast on her Instagram.

Black women have fed this country for centuries. From the days of being kidnapped & enslaved to now. Black women were wet nurses to white children, domestic labor, milk maids, land stewards & more. We did the work no one wanted to do, but needed to be done so everyone could eat. Women like Georgia Gilmore, a personal hero, helped finance the Montgomery Bus Boycott with The Club From Nowhere. A effort in which she cooked & baked, sold her goods & put the money into changing the lives of everyone. We invented & perfected taking humble ingredients & making them spectacular. We are one of the strongest fibers in the fabric of Americas culinary history, but often overlooked when it’s time to showcase our abilities in spaces where it should shine & be rewarded.

Frankly, CBS, Padma & everyone that any part in making that show didn’t see the omission of Black women in the competition should be ashamed. Fellow chef contestants are included. Needless to say, I won’t be watching & will be telling anyone that will listen not to watch as well.

Here is your first hosting guide from The Matriarch’s Table. This month we are keeping it simple, laid back, but still powerful. Personally, I’m looking forward to the “table topics” portion! Let me know what you think.

Cheers,

Dee

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Second things second, I will always keep the conversations about food, policy, prices & how the system shapes what we put on our plates as public convesations.

That work stays free.

Knowing what’s happening is half the story. The other half is knowing what to do with it.

Yesterday’s Price...

Now until March 15, you can lock in the membership for $5 a month, because on March 16 the price goes up. You’ll step into an exlclusive space focused on some of the more practical sides of domestic work. How to run a kitchen that doesn't feel like chaos, but a well oiled machine.

Not perfection.

Not performing.

Competent. Complete. Without the chaos.

Inside the Monthly Membership

March is Women’s Month & what better way to kick it off than with launching The Matriarch’s Table!

What can you expect each month?

A Blueprint

A weeks worth of meals! Including ways to make it stretch, substitutions notes, & budget friendly tips. Adding tools to your toolbox each & every month.

A Hosting Guide

Complete menus, preparation & tablescape ideas so you can gather with confidence instead of scrambling.

Home Economics Lessons

Practical information on stocking, cooking, saving, cleaning, & more. Including a “What I’d Buy from [store] This Week” based on the weekly circular.

Community Chat

A seat in the MDM Chat! Exclusive tips & random thoughts.

Quarterly Virtual Gathering

Live Q&A to ask questions, cooking demo & build community.

Who’s the Membership For?

The woman who wants to…

Feed her people without panic.

Host without chaos.

Teach her children by example.

Build a kind of stability through food.

If you want to stay informed, the public posts will serve you well.

If you want structure & rhythm in your home, leading as a matriarch, pull up a seat.

Subscribe now

So let’s get into the recipe!

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As I was preparing for this long weekend, I couldn’t help but think about how messy my home would become, how I needed to clean up as much as possible beforehand & try to keep it maintained over the next 4 days. Do I have enough batteries for toys he likes? Are the devices charged? Where’s the Yoto cards? Do we have all the safe foods, because I am NOT taking both kids to the grocery store if my husband isn’t home & we run out of something. All the things & invisible labor that comes with motherhood I was thinking of things to enrich their brains, spend time together & keep him engaged. I decide we’re going to start some seeds, make some muffins & get ready for Spring by researching bird feeders & whatever else his special interest is for the moment.

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The Modern Day Matriarch is the cozy corner where softness is honored, stories are held close & the everyday rhythm of womanhood are celebrated.

A space for…

The ones who love their homes & the ones still learning to love their homes.

The ones who love themselves & the ones still learning to love themselves.

The ones figuring it out between the endless laundry loads, shared meals, quiet mornings & big dream.

The community reflects who we are.

We are women who love deeply, create intentionally, gather with care & show up.

We show up with our never-ending to-do list or nothing much going on

We show up with braids that should’ve come out yesterday or a fresh silk press.

We show up in a fancy ‘fit or our favorite sweats.

We show up.

So whether you’re learning to season your cast iron, hosting your first or fiftieth dinner party, or simply looking to breathe deeper, there’s room for you at the table.

With that said, I’m looking for my community to pour into me a lil bit. As a creator/influencer, I was able to work with some amazing brands that paid me for my work, sharing links, driving sales to their brands & clearing shelves on the latest products. For now, that is not my main goal. That’s not to say that should the RIGHT brand come around that I wouldn’t partner, but to say that I am not actively seeking partnerships. I want to give here as much as I did with BGITJ & more. I want to utilize this platform to connect in a way that others don’t allow.

If I have ever taught you anything, influenced a purchase that you now love, given you a free recipe or you just love me a whole lot, I hope you all consider becoming a paid subscriber to The Modern Day Matriarch. It’s mutually beneficial because I can allot time to sharing things like notes I have from meals I make, exclusive tips & tricks for saving money in the grocery store, tutorials & even some exclusive content. You’ll also be the first to know & get a discount code for when my new digital guide The Ingredient House drops!

While the cost of community is inconvenience, the pantry doesn’t stock itself. Become a paid subscriber & help keep the shelves full for all of us.

xoxo,

Dee

Subscribe now

This is the abbreviated version. For the full version, click here

It’s fourth quarter. Not of a game… of the year.

The season of tinsel, tablescapes, gathering, and all the holiday hullabaloo. For someone who loves to host, cook, and create magic, this should be my Super Bowl. My time to shine as a matriarch.

Here’s the thing though…

I don’t want to.

I do… but I don’t.

Every year around Thanksgiving, something shifts. I become anti-social. I don’t want to make content. I don’t want to host. Every task feels like climbing Mount Everest, even though I have the gear, the experience, the muscle memory. I’ve done this before. I could teach it. It shouldn’t feel this hard… but it does.

For years, I told myself it was seasonal depression. That didn’t quite add up, because I love winter. I love the snow, the slower pace, the dark nights and bright mornings. I got married on New Year’s Eve because this season has always felt magical to me.

And yet… my body tells a different story.

I grew up surrounded by love. Big family. Traditions. Holidays done right. Thanksgiving with Mama & Papa Gus. Christmas Eve with Granny & Grandpa. Ginger ale with a splash of champagne at midnight. Laughter, love, joy. It’s why I work so hard to make holidays magical for my own boys.

It was all good… until it wasn’t.

One Thanksgiving, we got the call. Grandpa had a seizure. A brain tumor. Then cancer. Hospital rooms filled with family, meals shared between tears, and eventually a word I would come to know too well… hospice. Grandpa passed away on December 21, three days before the stretch of celebrations began. That was the first time the holidays cracked.

Years later, Dad was diagnosed with cancer. He powered through chemo like always. Then Papa Gus passed. Another grandfather. Another goodbye. I watched my father grieve his hero, and it lodged somewhere deep inside me.

Then came Granny.

At 92, she was still laughing, watching the royal wedding, planning tai-chi. Until suddenly she wasn’t. Hospice again. She came home, insisted her girls would take care of her. I kissed her goodnight, promised I’d see her in the morning.

She didn’t wait.

I woke up at 3 a.m. knowing before the phone rang. I held her cold hand. Kissed her goodbye. And realized grief had just rearranged my entire world.

Granny wasn’t just my grandmother. She was my person. My safe place. My blueprint. Losing her changed everything… especially the holidays.

Then Dad declined.

Thanksgiving 2018, he barely ate. Christmas, he couldn’t come downstairs. December 31… that word again. Hospice.

My father died January 4, 2019.

57 years young.

There are no words for that kind of loss. Only the feeling of standing still while life hits you over and over, and you can’t fight back. Losing Granny and Dad felt like my safety net disappeared while I was already balancing grief, work, and motherhood… with a 500-pound backpack on my back.

Three deaths.

Three people I didn’t know the world, let alone holidays without.

So when the season rolls around, my body remembers. Not consciously… but completely.

I realized this in 2022 watching From Scratch. A line from the daughter gutted me.

“Everyone remembers that he was your husband. No one remembers that he was my father.”

That was it.

Grief is selfish… not in a bad way, but in an honest one. Trauma doesn’t just live in the mind. It lives in the body. And mine learned to brace itself every time turkey, tinsel, and togetherness showed up.

In The Body Keeps the Score, Bessel van der Kolk writes that trauma organizes your life as if the danger is still present. That’s what was happening. I would host… but want everyone gone. I would show up… but never stay long. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The Anti-Social Hostess wasn’t a personality flaw.

She was a trauma response.

Now, I’m learning to loosen its grip.

I still miss Papa, Granny, and Dad every day. I wish they could see what I’ve built, the community of women who check on me when I go quiet, who hold space without demanding performance.

I’m choosing to make the magic anyway… for my children, for myself, for the generations ahead. Because trauma may be inherited… but so is resilience.

Here’s to 2026. Forging a legacy of strength, resilience & love.

Here’s the Cliff’s Notes of what I’ve learned thus far about the anatomy of a boycott.

The Anatomy of a Boycott:

1. Identify the issues- clear & compelling reason to boycott

2. Target selection- choose specific individual, company or organization which should be easily & clearly identifiable.

3. Organizing body-a group or coalition responsible for leading the boycott, coordinating actions & communicating with the publi

4. Public Awareness Campaign- spread information about the issue & target through a variety of channels like media, social media, word of mouth & other grassroots methods

5. Call to Action- CLEAR & CONCISE instructions for the public on how to participate in the boycott. Example, not buying a product, not patronize a business &/or contacting the target directly

6. Community Mobilization- Enlist support from individuals, organizations & communities to commit & participate in the boycott

7. 7. Mentoring & Enforcement- Tracking the effectiveness & addressing attempts to undermine the boycott

8. 8. Negotiation & Resolution- If successful, engage in dialogue with Target to negotiate changes in practices in policy

My initial thought is to sell out Target of all the Black owned products, stock up on the essentials ONLY & then no spend for March until further notice. What do y’all think? Who’s in?

As the sun rises gently over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and lavender, I find myself captivated by your presence once again. There’s something inherently magical about you,  Sunday, that stirs the depths of my soul and fills my heart with warmth. You are the soft embrace after a long week, the lullaby that soothes my weary spirit.

In the quiet moments of early morning, when the world is still wrapped in a tender hush, I cherish the way you invite me to pause and breathe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the crisp air, and I am reminded of lazy mornings spent wrapped in blankets, lost in the pages of a favorite book. Those moments are treasures, and they are yours alone.

I think back to the Sundays of my childhood, where time seemed to stand still. The laughter of family gathered around a hearty breakfast, the sounds of distant church bells ringing in harmony with the scent of pancakes wafting through the house. Those memories are woven into the fabric of my being. You were the day that promised respite, the promise of new beginnings, and the hope of a fresh start.

With you, Sundays are not merely days; they are a canvas for dreams to unfold. I adore the way you inspire long walks through sun-dappled parks, where every rustle of leaves feels like a sweet secret whispered between us. You encourage spontaneous adventures, whether it be a drive along the coast or a quiet picnic beneath the shade of an ancient oak. Each shared experience is a love letter in itself, etched into the chapters of life.

You have a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary, of transforming the mundane into cherished rituals. The simple act of savoring a meal or watching the sun dip below the horizon becomes a celebration.

As the day winds down and the evening sky fills with stars, I find solace in the way you invite reflection. You remind me to embrace gratitude, to cherish the lessons of the week that has passed, and to dream of the adventures that lie ahead. You are a gentle reminder that love, in all its forms, requires time to flourish, and that every moment spent with you is a precious gift.

So here’s to you, my beloved Sunday. Thank you for being the sanctuary I yearn for, the calm amidst the chaos. I celebrate your existence, and I promise to hold you close as long as the days stretch on.

Yours always,

Dee

Admittedly, over the last year, you’ve seen less content from me. It wasn’t intentional, but it was needed. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted my online presence to look like as BLACKGIRLIN. You initially saw a post about other stores/areas & I didn’t want to get tangled up in the web of being known for one store again. Then, I thought I could “post whatever” & see what stuck. As a Virgo, I just couldn’t let go like I thought I could & wanted. Full transparency, I am really reallllllly glad I didn’t. I kinda just sat in the space, with immense gratitude, to feel it out & set my intentions.

This last 365 days has taught me that in a world of quick, fast & in a hurry, the beloved tortoise moving slow, steady & with intent will come out victorious. For me, the victory is clarity. I sat in my space in my little corner of the internet & stuck my toe in some new ponds. Some really big & some not so big. Some of these ponds had piranhas, others had swans & angelfish. Others I was just too scared to even dip a toe in. After 365 days, I’m grateful to have all 10 toes [ya know… to stand on business], some clarity & an amazing community in you all that held space for me to evolve, grow & create unapologetically.

I have some really exciting content coming in the next days & weeks with new partnerships & cannot wait to show another side of Dee that’s exciting & even a lil new to me.

Cheers to our first 365 🥂