Adiba Nelson

Adiba Nelson

Bio

Adiba Nelson currently resides in Tucson, AZ with her fiancee, 6 year old daughter, and 2 teenage stepsons-to-be. When she is not advocating for disability rights, performing burlesque, or writing her monthly style column, she is busy managing social media for her local Easter Seals affiliate. She is also the author of the children's book Meet ClaraBelle Blue, and is currently working on the follow up book, ClaraBelle's Big Discovery. You can find Adiba at http://thefullnelson.net/

Adiba Nelson Articles

Fit. Fat. Fly as f#ck.

Can You Be Fit AND Fat?

Being a body positive/body acceptance activist means that regardless of WHAT shape my body takes at any given point and time in my life, I love it. I am kind to it. I remember that it has the right to love and adoration, first from myself, and then from my man. I remember that all bodies, those bigger than and those smaller than mine, are entitled to the same, and they are no better or worse than my own.

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Stand with us. Period.

Black Women Still Have Lips — And An Army

Remember how I told you about the nasty little trolligans (trolls + hooligans = trolligans) that felt the need to show their racist behinds in response to a picture of Aamito Stacie Lagum, a Black model, modeling MAC’s new lipstick? And I slightly hinted at the Instagram clapback on the MAC photo feed. Well, what I didn’t tell you is that there’s an Instagram clapback, and then there’s a BLACK Instagram clapback. The two are worlds apart, and baby I promise you, you have seen nothing until you’ve seen a Black Insta-clapback.

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Donuts. Tempting.

My Name Is Adiba Nelson, And I Am A Food Addict

This was how my eating disorder began. This is when I first consciously ate my emotions. THIS is when I said, “I don’t need you to love me. I don’t need to love myself. I don’t need to feel or be felt. Hear or be heard. See or be seen. I just need to eat. I just need to eat because food will never judge me. Food will never leave me (unless I make it leave me, which I did. In college. A LOT.).

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I’m Becky, and I didn’t even know it. Leave it to the woman I model my hustle after to put my asshole behavior right in my face. Image: Parkwood Entertainment/screenshot.

I'm Becky With The Good Hair: That Time Beyoncé Called Me Out

In my mind, I was Beyoncé, and she was Becky. She was the one he needed to run back to. She was the one who could have his ass, because I was leaving and I wasn’t sorry about it.
Then Lemonade came out and the light bulb came on.

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AF

Your 2016 Women's History Month Soundtrack

I think we can all agree that there is an incredible amount of power in being a woman. We run corporations, households, and our own glittery, mashed-up, sometimes-so-fucked-up-I-wanna-hide-under-a-blanket-and-never-come-out-again lives. And we do it as gracefully as we possibly can. And while we’re doing it, we have a soundtrack playing in the background.

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Credit:  Skwid Inc. Photographic Arts

3 Ways Burlesque Has Made Me A Better Mom

"...do you know what happens in lightly buzzed stupors? You get brave. Really brave. So, I signed up for it. In my lightly buzzed stupor I signed up for the burlesque mentorship program.

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I'm A Black Woman And I Don’t Want A Black Son

"I will peer relentlessly into every cop car I pass with a young black man in it, stretching my neck to make sure that it’s not my son who’s been arrested for driving while black, walking while black, or breathing while black. I will hold my breath while listening to every news report of another black man that has been arrested, beaten, killed, and made an example of."

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My Life by Mary J. Blige was the Lemonade of the mid-to-late 90s. Image: Uptown/MCA Records.

Before Lemonade There Was My Life

[CN: mention of suicide] How did we get through love before Lemonade? We examined our lives through Mary’s shamelessly honest storytelling on My Life.

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“Donald, I see your bigotry and raise you... wait for it... XENOPHOBIA!”

Dear Ted Cruz, Let's Talk About "Gang Activity"

So, by your reasoning, it’s safe to say that we should go into areas where one group of people are thought to be terrorizing another group of people, round up the terrorizers, and get them off the streets. OK, cool. I see your proposal, and I raise you “history."

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LIAR, LIAR: Sandra Bland's Death Investigation Keeps Getting More Infuriating

Give me a minute please. I’m a little busy trying to decide if I should throw something, burn something, take my eyes out and dip them in bleach after reading that shit, have a woosa moment, or just. fucking. drink.

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