Authentic conversations about culture, motherhood, divorce, black excellence, humor, and style!
This is the first post in the new series I introduced a while back. It's called The Manny Posts. So if you're reading this post and wondering what I'm going on about, here's a short summary: I wrote a post about having writer's block, and my Sweet Potato, Manny bought me a journal with 300 writing prompts. I have decided to share my thoughts in the journal on here with you. These posts will be called The Manny Posts, and you can read the original post here. The journal has 300 writing Read More
Contrary to what it may seem like, this series is actually still very much alive. Vera just needed a break to catch her breath, but she's good now. Today's Sweet Potato is a fellow Marylander, and judging from the cuteness of her son, he might be forced to pay Ada Verastic's bride price in the future. If you have no idea what’s going on here, this post is part of a new series on Verastic, called Sweet Potato Files. In this series, each blog post features a Sweet Potato (blog reader), and Read More
It can take up to a lifetime to build trust and only a second to destroy it. That was what happened between me and Funmie. Let me tell you the story. We were about 18 and 19 (I'm older). School was over for the day and Funmie came to my house. At that time, Funmie was the only one in our group who had a cell phone. It was a Panasonic phone from Sprint and I strangely still remember the ringtone. On that day, she came home with me to hang out. However, at some point, her dad started Read More
You guys, I really did buy this skirt for Jesus. But let me tell you how it happened. Easter was coming, and I wanted to do something different. Normally, I'd never buy a new outfit for Christmas or Easter, but this time, I thought, why not, if not? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a trendy person. I wear what I want when I want. So I wasn't looking for pastel colors for Easter. I just wanted something cute, and I had an image in my head. I wanted to wear something black and Read More
When I was a child, I had many, many dolls. Too many. And they were all white. Some of the dolls came back with me from Russia, while others were purchased in Nigeria. I specifically remember one that had blue eyes and blonde hair, and her name was Amy. I did not name her; that was the name the manufacturer gave her. She was bought in Nigeria, I remember. It was no big deal that my dolls were white. If anything, I imagine I would have been laughed at if my dolls were black because they would Read More
