Blood, Sweat,…Flats

I've always wondered how women manage to stroll around New York City with skyscraper-like heels like it's nothing. I don't regularly take cabs nor do I have the luxury of being driven around in a town car so, in my NYC experience, there's a lot of walking involved. Plenty of commuters (specifically those commuting to and from work) slip out of the heels and into something more practical until they've reached their destination, but I guess what the truth comes down to is this: some women are just pushing way past the pain.

Well, on tonight's episode of Bravo's new hit reality television show Blood, Sweat and Heels, former video model Melyssa Ford admitted she's one of those women. But as her boss brazenly told her, if you really wanna get stuff accomplished, stop trying to look cute and get some flats, girl. So I'm assuming (rather, hoping) that the women strutting around in heels have already paid their dues in flats.

Demetria (center, left) was our featured speaker
back in 2011 (I'm on the far right in bright yellow!).

Okay, I'm jumping into this a little fast. Let's start from the beginning. BSH premiered last week on Bravo to the highest first-time ratings in the network's reality-focused history. It features six women balancing success and their personal lives in the Concrete Jungle. Admittedly, the only two I know are Melyssa Ford and Demetria Lucas. Demetria, of course, is a journalist, blogger and author whom, a few years back, my organization hired to speak at our event when I was still at Temple.

We all knew her as an editor of Essence magazine and as the "Black Carrie Bradshaw" (a title bestowed upon her by the very own Washington Post) so we were excited that such a prominent figure in the media industry was even giving our little start-up the time of day. Demetria and I met again a week ago (she remembered!) when she threw a premiere viewing party in Brooklyn. I had made it from MD -> Philly -> NYC following her formula and she was as fabulous and pleasant as ever. We hugged, she gave me some advice and we even high-fived about being honest

Reunited a little over 2 years later at
the premiere party of BSH in BK.

journalists who don't hold back and don't apologize for our audacity.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Demetria was on the show, it honestly would've probably slipped under my radar. After all, when you premiere three new shows a week, it becomes a bit much and the quality starts to lack, Bravo. I still have mixed reactions to it but, so far, I can't say I'm disappointed. One of the things that stuck out to me was how real the girls are. When there are reality shows in existence called Rich Kids of Beverly Hills, you start to get the feeling that these shows are here only to remind you that you're a bum and other people eat meals that cost more than your rent.

It was nice to see on tonight's episode that nobody was putting on airs about the lifestyle they live. Melyssa Ford, especially, has been a pleasant surprise. She's a very likable woman and is clearly not one to stir the pot. She also has the potential to be making a lot of money on her name but is instead choosing to turn over a new leaf and do it the hard way. After a break-up with a high-rolling rapper, she's honest that she's in a tight situation with money and is learning to live within her newly-defined means. As a writer trying to make it in the proverbial Big Apple, I completely identify with living #thestruggle and I'm glad it's finally being addressed realistically.

BSH is on Sundays at 9pm ET on Bravo.

Geneva Thomas opened up about hustling in the media business only to make peanuts (tell it, honey!) and she also admitted that money is also tight for her. Two of the women on the show (Brie Bythewood and Daisy Lewellyn) come from wealthy backgrounds already but, all in all, these women are not housewives.  They're a modern representation of todays' women and living embodiments that success comes primarily through connections, a lot of elbow grease and opportunities. I'm sure, just like all reality shows, there will be fresh weaves, new sets of teeth, and grandiloquent homes for all the women involved as the seasons continue. But for now, they are definitely putting their heels--or should I say, flats--to the pavement and making it work.

The Crisis: What Do I Stand For?

Wow, time's a bitch. It felt like just yesterday I posted here, yet it's telling me I haven't written a blog post since December 2011.

It also feels like just yesterday I moved into my dorm room freshman year of college. I remember how nervous I was, how I couldn't believe I had made it to university. A good one at that, on a partial academic scholarship. See, I'm the first in my family to accomplish this, so it means a lot. It wasn't written in the stars for someone like me, but somehow it was.

And on the first night, after my family left from helping me get nestled in, I sat outside my dorm on a bench. I sat there at 3am alone, listening to the Beatles and looking up at the sky, taking in every single element around me. The cool August night air, the drunken chatter of eager incoming freshman, and the bustle of Broad Street mixing magically with the music in my headphones.

That was the first and last time I got to savor it. I had no idea how quickly the next few years would pass by. All I knew was how badly I needed to experience this: college. A sort of halfway house between living under my mother's suffocating thumb and the big, bad real world that eventually awaited me.

What I didn't know was how real that world would be. You think you've got the timeline of your life all figured out and then you realize one day that it's never been yours to determine. Sure, you can be the master of your fate, but only to a certain degree. Someone else has mapped out your life for you and you have no choice but to take the blows as it comes. Your part is to figure out how to react to the blows. I just graduated college. Three months ago. Cum Laude. With a job lined up. I was on top of the world, right?

Not exactly. I had never been more miserable or cried more in my life. This was it. I was supposed to be ecstatic. Everything was supposed to be different; I would move to New York City and become the woman I've always wanted to be. All my hard work would pay off. Everything would fall into place. Everyone seemed to agree: my family, friends, colleagues and professors. With all I've accomplished, they said, there was no way I wouldn't have my dream job and be living large. Well, I'm jobless on my sister's couch, still freelancing and still looking for a full-time job.

But I'm okay with that.

Let me go back and explain. I was offered a spot in a prestigious teaching program in New York City and took it, feeling lucky just to have been given the opportunity. I thought I would teach, freelance on the side, leave the program eventually and begin working full-time at a magazine in New York. See, ever since I was a kid, when I first stepped foot in this country, I dreamed of New York City, but never made it past Silver Spring, Maryland until I got halfway there at Temple.

But the teaching program proved to be more effort than I was willing to give it and, after many heart-to-hearts and tears and anxiety, contemplation and meditation, I quit before the first day. It was nearly mid-June and I had just joined the job hunt. The more time passed, the more anxious I became to find a job. There was no way I was going back to living under my mother's aforementioned suffocating thumb.

Watching my friends and peers get full time jobs, although I'm happy for them, I do not envy them. Many of them have fallen victim to the trap: mundane jobs that could mean less to them, jobs they undertake to avoid the stigma of "unemployed" and to pay back the student loans that got them in their position in the first place.

College is over now. Our bubble is burst and we're left trying to figure out how to adjust to the alien sensations that are surrounding us. No longer will our best friends be just down the hall or down the street. Gone are the days of seemingly endless resources and helping hands right around the corner. We've spread out all over the country, all over the world, and some of us are in new scary places alone.

But I hope we all eventually find what makes us happy and refuse to settle for anything less. I hope we always remember what we stand for and the legacy we want to pass on to future generations. And I hope we never forget the remarkably gratifying outcomes that can arise from working hard and keeping your fingers crossed.

I realize that I'm doing the right thing for me. I could choose to work with some big Fortune 500 company and be slotted into some generic position, but I won't. I'm staying true to myself and going after places that I want to be at. I may be shooting for the stars and it may prolong my search, but to me, the stars have never seemed that far away, anyway. Just a hop, skip and a leap of faith.