therealadvn2rgirl
Advn2rgirl
therealadvn2rgirl

I was good until the 1st Am./9th Am. part.

I, too, am Team List: a dozen wedding presents mean I can serve soup, pasta, or stew in something people can actually handle. I also have cream soup spoons (because that’s A Thing) and cute little contrasting accent plates, which were sold as salad plates, but which usually end up going under cake or pie. Advn2rguy

He’s over 6 feet tall and the KKK guy is 5 five foot as something. You do the math.

I know a mother, daughter, and grandmother named Queen Esther: Big Queenie, Mama Queenie, and Little Queenie.  Rural VA, here.

No. It is. It is JUST THAT BAD.

Southern girl gets engaged to a New York boy and his family throws a big engagement dinner. Afterwards, the men go off to drink and the women are in the drawing room. Southern girl turns to the ladies on the couch beside her and says brightly, “So, where’re y’all from?” One Northern girl looks down her nose at her and

757 in da house! Although my mom’s from Philly (Girls’ High), I grew up on the plantation where my father’s people were enslaved. Great-great grandpa bootlegged food to the Union Army at Yorktown and bought the plantation with Northern gold after The Woah. The first time I saw a grown-up cry was at The Museum of the

I’ll see your white husband and raise you: my daughter’s a Pacific Islander. She’s browner than I am, though, with “good hair.” <eyeroll> Colorism: sigh. Every year, I have to explain to at least one of my students that I’m just a plain, old-fashioned black girl, with two black parents, from right here in VA; that I

Okay, so my 2010 wedding was, admittedly, insane but it was also crazy fun. 623 people invited; over 300 came. Now my dad was the Pastor of our church and owned a local business, and he and my mom had had a tiny wedding on her home in a dress she made, so there was no way Mom’s only daughter’s wedding was not going to

We have a friend who is a stay-at-home mom who comes every week. She is a goddess. At first, I’d clean before she came, like my grandmother used to do before her lady came, and then I realized: she knows EXACTLY how messy we are; no one is fooled, and I stopped frontin’. That said, I bet she wishes I was still

Great article. I think a lot about how to navigate this issue: I’m black, my husband’s white, our kid is a Pacific Islander. To complicate things, he has been mistaken for a light-skinned black guy, I get asked if I’m “mixed” or Latina, and she’s medium brown and looks black if her hair is in braids. Our family is

I just had a moment: I was playing your poem, and my 2 year old daughter just came and watched the whole thing, intently. When it was done, she sighed, “Ahhhh” and declared it, “All gone.” For her, that’s dropping the mic.

If I could upfist this with fire, I would upfist it with fire! I was scared to go in the *pool* for weeks after seeing that movie when I was eight.

Except that the redhead is Abby, who Taylor outed to the world as the one who “gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” when they were fifteen.

It means that connection through the Christian covenant (blood of Jesus) is more powerful than connection by accident of birth (waters of the womb). So your family connection as a child of God matters more than whose bed you were born in.

Yassss! Lord Jesus In Heaven, YES.