Adiba Nelson

Soy Adiba Nelson, y soy Latina también!

Then we had that talk that made my eye twitch: the budget talk.

That, my dear, is self-care 101: You must take care of yourself if you want to take care of others.

Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get so sassy right now.

How do you go from two extremely different individuals living life separately to two extremely different individuals merging their separate lives into one loving family portrait — all while avoiding a cosmic meltdown? Very, very carefully. And with a bottle of wine… or 50.

Black women have endured the unfathomable. We’ve watched our leaders be assassinated, and our hopes go with them. We’ve watched the nation’s leaders be assassinated, and watched our hopes float away with them too. We’ve buried our 5-year-old daughters after they were bombed to death in church, our 12-year-old sons who were playing in the park, and our 29-year-old daughters who were stopped for simple traffic violations.

I would break girl code. And if you love me, I hope you would do it for me too.

Where did you even get that statistic from? Did you make it up?

“Why would you do that? You have a daughter. Why would you put yourself in that position?”

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.