Black Women – The Office Black Girl

Keeping Your Enemies Close and Sometimes in Your Corner

September 6, 2023by The Office Black Girl1 Comment

When people show you who they are, believe them. When people who matter to you confirm who those people are….believe them.

I have a “friend” that I have known since high school. Our friendship fell a bit off track when she graduated, and I moved away from home after college. But when I returned home, we quickly fell back into a friendship, especially since we had kids that were close in age.

For years, my husband has told me that my friend hated me, but I always thought that was laughable because she never did anything to show me she hated me. Well, except for repeatedly sharing an unflattering story about me from college that I think she may have been too drunk to remember correctly because it never sounds accurate. Oh, and frequently reminds me that one of her best friends happens to be a girl who became an enemy over a boy (that is a whole other story).

Now, I know what you are thinking…I sound dumb af. Which as I reread those words, I would agree. But while those two things are problematic, she has been a friend to me over the years. Even taking my son off my hands for a night when my husband was away, and it felt like the world was crashing on me. I didn’t even ask; she just did it because I was breaking down.

But maybe that is the thing: people have no problem supporting you when you are drowning. But when you are thriving, you are too caught up in doing well that you overlook them quietly exiting your corner.

I want to see people win. Strangers, friends, and every black woman who crosses my path (as long as she has crossed me). There have been plenty of days where I was definitely losing, and while I may have felt a slight pain that I wasn’t where I wanted to be when I saw someone else winning…I never thought I hoped they failed.

It is thoroughly bizarre to me the effort people put into hoping others fail. While I don’t know if my “friend” wants me to fail, it was an eye-opener when I saw her share a random white woman’s post hyping up a local black-owned business. A business that is in the same niche as mine.

But my “friend” doesn’t share my business content. She has never purchased from me, and I can’t remember her liking or engaging with my business content. Not that she owes me her support, but I find it funny that she will share a complete stranger’s content before double-tapping on my business post. While there have been other red flags that I have overlooked, for some reason, that was the breaking point that made me realize maybe our friendship isn’t what I thought it was.

I have been unintentionally keeping my enemy closer than my friends.

Lesson learned. I’m just glad this wasn’t a hard one.

365 Days of Posts, Hair, Office Stories

White Men and Wig Obsessions

May 31, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I don’t think I have ever worked somewhere where my hair was a topic of discussion as much as it has been since working for this company. I somewhat blame myself. I allowed myself to be open enough that, somehow, my honesty about a wig has turned into a frequent question about what is on my head.

My director informed me yesterday that the owner of the company asked about my hair. Apparently, he was unable to tell if my real hair was a wig or not. Keep in mind all of my wigs come from Amazon, and they are definitely the cheaper ones. But what I found even odder about the conversation was that he has never had a problem commenting on my hair before to my face, so why the change? But the time he asked, I was rocking my natural hair.

The director then proceeded to tell me that he asked if the other black woman in the office was wearing a wig. The director said, “Oh yea.”

On another note, I do find it interesting that when she started working here, her hair was natural and out. But about a week in, she has worn a wig with no natural hair to be revealed since. There is no judgment, but given that there are only two black women in this company, I wonder if her choice to conceal her natural hair is a conscious one or just a matter of convenience.

Back to me…

What is crazy to me is that the people who have the most comments about my hair are the white men in the office. The IT guy, who comes in once a week, makes a comment every time he sees me, even going as far as to tell me he prefers my real hair.

While I appreciate working for a company that hasn’t tried to punish me for my hair choices (because, let’s be for real, the biases are still real in the corporate world), I am over the fascination. It has taken me years to reach a point where I can leave my house with my natural hair, not in “ideal” curls but in the various levels of curl and puff with confidence. A confidence that comes after years of Eurocentric hair ideals messing with my psyche.

Even with this unwanted spotlight on my hair, I keep my head high, and I own every hairdo I rock to work. But I don’t like the feeling of my relative openness to talk about my hair is starting to make me feel like the star of some sort of freak show.

Uncategorized

My “Weirdness” About Memorial Day

May 29, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I need to start off with the fact that Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day are not the same. Memorial Day is to remember those who passed away while serving our country. Veteran’s Day is for all who have served.

It is probably not that serious in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason, I find great annoyance when I see people’s posts, especially a business, that seems to lump the two together.

I will also add, my husband served, as well as my father and several other family members. It s probably what makes me more aware of the way people seem to confuse the two days, but I think it would slightly bug me even if I had no connection to the military.

As a business owner and someone who works in marketing, I always feel weird about posting about certain holidays, and Memorial Day is one of them. I am an overthinker, so that doesn’t help my cringe.

I feel some type of way about posting sales for a holiday that is meant to honor the dead, but I am not immune to engaging in a sale or enjoying the day off (though my current job does not believe in taking off for Memorial Day). I try to acknowledge the day for what it is, but as a black business owner operating during an overly sensitive time period, I get wary that a potential customer will look at my business as “too political.”

Even crazier, I get worried that my “patriotic” post will attract extreme right-leaning followers who will then be offended when I make a reference to being a “black woman-owned business.” While I don’t care if my customers’ political views align with mine, I just don’t want it to be an issue when they engage with me and my business.

With all of the crazy that runs through my mind, I do choose to at least post about it. A few years ago, a friend of mine from college was killed while serving. Only months before, he had messaged me that he was finally going to get out of the military. I found out he was killed through Facebook. He had served for as long as I had known him, but to think he was ready to get out and finally start a new chapter in his life…

…it makes it that much more important that I acknowledge Memorial Day for what it is. A remembrance of those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

365 Days of Posts, Mental Health Journey, Office Stories

What I Didn’t Know About Adderall

March 20, 2023by The Office Black Girl2 Comments

When I was in high school, my parents took me to a psychologist/psychiatrist. They thought that maybe my teenage moodiness may be something chemical.

I was diagnosed with depression and ADD (no H).

I never took anything for the depression (though I should have after a few episodes got a little scary). But I did take something for the ADD. I was originally prescribed Concerta. But that was short-lived because it made me sleepy, which sort of defeated the purpose of taking the medication.

Next, I was prescribed Adderall, which was a game-changer. The two side effects I experienced were a suppressed appetite (which I loved) and a weird emotional numbing. Though some may argue now that I am already emotionally dead inside at times, with Adderall, I really felt the emotional switch.

To say I loved Adderall was an understatement. But unfortunately, my mother went through a weird period where she didn’t want me to be on it. She was afraid that somehow people would label me for being on the medication. Looking back, I can appreciate her concern. People weren’t talking about ADD/ADHD diagnosis and medications back then like they do now. Now, it seems like we accept ADHD like it is a normal thing.

When I was in college, I don’t recall many women/girls being diagnosed, let alone publicly talking about their struggles.

So after years of being on and off Adderall, I was stuck off the train when I found myself on Tricare, and trying to get back on it was a very unfun game of hoop jumping. I never won.

15 years after I last took Adderall, I found myself with insurance and a job that allowed me to visit a doctor. She gave me a trial prescription of Adderall, and to say I was excited doesn’t even begin to cover the emotion I felt. That was until last weekend.

Did you know that Adderall and other ADHD medications can have a side effect of dry eye/blurry vision? I didn’t.

Guess who found out the hard way?

My eyes had started getting a bit sensitive to the light recently. I thought maybe it had something to do with me wearing my contacts too long. Then last weekend, I was suddenly struck with an unbearable level of light sensitivity. I had to miss work because my eyes were so sensitive to the light I could hardly see.

To make a long story short, I suffer from dry eye, but it was never severe or even something I felt. The Adderall exasperated the issue so badly that the receptors in my eyes were basically stripped of moisture, making it painful to open my eyes. A week later and a few hundred dollars spent, my vision is just starting to creep toward normal (I already have crappy vision naturally).

The irony is that the thing that I tried so desperately to get ended up costing me a week of being able to do anything productive because I couldn’t see. I have a follow-up next week about the Adderall, and two days before that, I have to see a cornea specialist for my eyes.

A friend suggested another medication, but now I am scared to try anything else. Guess we will see how this plays out. Just happy I can finally see well enough to type.

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories, Uncategorized

When the Racism Surprises You…

February 24, 2023by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I wrote this on Monday and debated on whether I should post it. Then something reminded me of why I started this blog…

On Friday, I was discussing with a coworker about an upcoming work trip I had to take with my boss. I was explaining how there was really no reason for me to go. But my biggest concern was that I may have to share a room with her.

I work for a company where a good 35 percent (or more) of its employees are related or good family friends. The line of boundaries are definitely blurry on a daily basis. So I was concerned that my boss would think that my boundaries would allow her to think I would be okay sharing a room with her.

I am not.

While I may complain about my boss often, I realize it is more me and my need to complain rather than her…or so I thought.

As I was discussing with my coworker (white, male) that I didn’t want to share a room with someone who was going to ask me about why I did certain things to my hair at night or why I wore a bonnet to bed, he shared a problematic story with me.

There used to be a black male who worked in my department (long before me) and apparently he messed up something. She tells my coworker that his mess-up was “very niggerly of him.”

He claims he told her that she couldn’t say that and she proceeded to say it again.

I can’t even describe my feelings at the time though many thoughts ran through my head:

He was a little too comfortable repeating the word she used.
I was surprised, and I wasn’t
Maybe I need to reevaluate my employment here.

Here is where my lack of surprise comes in, she has said other derogatory things about people. Both times she said them to me.

Now before you look down on me from your high horse, I will admit I didn’t correct her. There are some people who you already know are a lost cause, and investing energy to correct them almost feels like a disservice to yourself. But I will understand if you disagree.

My husband was supportive of the idea of me leaving, but the reality is that I need this job. There are annoyances for sure, but I can’t ignore the fact that despite her MASSIVELY problematic flaws, my boss actually treats me well.

She doesn’t harass me when I am late. On more than one occasion, I couldn’t come to work for various reasons and she told me to just take care of myself and what I needed to do. Hell, she actually values my opinion at work and that is saying something given my past experiences.

But even as I type this, I can’t help but think about why I am sharing this. We live in such a woke time that I could see people judging me for not quitting or exposing her to Black Twitter.

The reality is, I know I am not the only black woman who has had to put up with shit to get to their final goal. My goal is to get me and my family to a better place financially and I need this job to do that. There are also connections that come with this job that I can’t deny either.

So at the end of the day, I have to admit that my vision of a life after this job outweighs the outrage I feel from a water cooler conversation.

However, we will see what the future holds…

365 Days of Posts, Mental Health Journey, Office Stories

Sometimes The Money Isn’t Enough

Featuredby The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

It is almost 10 at night and I am sitting here trying to gather the bottom-of-the-barrel brain cells to complete a freelance job for someone. My contacts are hours past the point of needing to be taken out, and my annoyance is just tapering off.

I started doing freelance marketing work during the start of the pandemic because, like so many others, I found myself unemployed. For years, I felt fortunate to have clients to help build my portfolio and give me a steady line of work without constantly hustling for work.

But I think I have reached the point where I can no longer ignore the burnout, even if it has been screaming in my face for months.

I had a conversation today with a co-worker. We talked about work-life balance and how basically, our mental health falls behind our desire to pay bills. I find myself making that “joke” a lot: my bills don’t give a fuck about my mental health, or me mentally breaking down just to keep my credit from falling to shit.

My husband tells me to quit the freelance stuff. He has even encouraged me to invest more time into The Office Black Girl. But this online world doesn’t pay the bills. While I appreciate his belief in me, fear runs deep in my veins.

I hate to admit that I have had the chance to pursue my side hustles and projects as something full-time, but I messed up. I wasted my opportunities and, even worse, a lot of money. So I find myself here on a Thursday night, trying to find a single thread of thought to latch onto and create this content for this client before I go to bed.

Do I want to? No. Do I secretly want the client to tell me that they have found a cheaper option and “fire” me? Maybe.

Then I remember I have a credit card payment due that has yet another late fee attached to it. And I remind myself that I must keep doing the work, despite everything else overflowing on my plate.

But maybe one day I will just let it go and focus on what I find joy in…..maybe.

Mental Health Journey, Motherhood

A Needed Phone Call

Featuredby The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

This was not my original blog post idea for today.

But it is the blog post I want to share…today.

As a black woman, I feel this constant pressure to suck shit up and handle things. But the reality is that narrative is forced upon me as a black woman that I constantly struggle with. I struggle with the idea of dropping the ball, asking for help, and even not pushing myself harder.

While this era of social media is now showing that this is a problematic idealogy, my timeline hasn’t shown me enough women still struggling to find the right balance. It seems as though my timeline is filled with black women who are doing the damn thing (which I applaud them) and others who have managed to break through that crippling ideology and voluntarily remove things from their plates.

Then there is me, stuck somewhere in the middle.

While I struggled with the guilt of not going to the gym again today, not completing my story update (I just did before I typed this post), and not pushing myself to finish my never-ending to-do list…

That all went out the window when I got an unexpected call from my son’s teacher.

My son finished the first half of the school year, failing most of his classes. As any mom will understand, failing your kid is the biggest blow (even if the failure is an imagined one). So my husband and I bit the bullet and enrolled our son in tutoring. A cost that we feel every month. But I refuse to let my kid fail because I didn’t do all that I could to help him succeed.

I feel like I am constantly bogged down as a black mother because there seems to be no room for error. Because I am raising a black son that will eventually be a black man, any of his shortcomings fall on me and are multiplied by a skewed perception. I’m not even a single mother, and I was disgusted by the remarks of Jason Whitlock in regard to single, black mothers. Like how do you even reach to make that connection?

With that being said, my son’s teacher called me and told me that she didn’t know what we were doing at home, but my son’s grades had made a dramatic improvement since they returned from Christmas break.

While it seems like such a small thing, I found myself in tears.

It is bizarre to me that someone can fix their lips to generalize black women and black mothers under some distorted, negative narrative. I know so many amazing black women (single and married) who do so much for their kids, and they do it without praise.

To those mamas, I see you.

Today, I felt seen. I have had many conversations with my son’s teacher about his grades, and it was how she delivered the news that made me realize she saw that I was trying to do my best for my kid. And it was exactly what I needed today.

365 Days of Posts, Office Stories

Office Black Girl Moments: Vol. 1

Featuredby The Office Black Girl1 Comment

When I started this blog a few years ago, I intended to talk about my experiences as the only black woman in my department. If you know, you know.

But it was also for those who didn’t know. Being a black woman in the corporate world, especially the only woman of color in a department or even a whole company, is an experience, to say the least.

However, since the creation of this blog, I have since been laid off from that job, and I have found myself in several other work environments where the color of my skin has provoked awkward conversations. While I plan to share those stories here, I decided to mark this point as my day of change.

I recently saw a TikToker post about their one-year anniversary since they decided to start posting every day and how their life changed since then. And it made me think about how different my life might be if I had been consistent in the projects I pursued (and enjoyed) or if I didn’t just prioritize things to help dig myself out of debt.

So today is day one of me posting every day and seeing where my life will be in a year. I won’t lie, the content will probably be random, but I feel like that is appropriate. The black woman in your office has more going on than what you see every day, so here is a sneak peek into my thoughts, life, and the awkward moments of being The Office Black Girl

The Ebony Alpha

When a Friend Says There Needs to Be “More”

July 27, 2022by The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

I let a friend of mine read the first two chapters of The Ebony Alpha last night. She has encouraged me for years to dive into my creative side. But for some reason, I always found an excuse not to pursue things.

Despite her years of encouragement, I honestly felt nervous for her to read it. I kept visualizing the ruthless comments on a story I had recently read. While there may have been some validity to their remarks, I just kept thinking how much I would cringe if those remarks were directed toward my work.

But she stated she liked what I had so far and her only comment was that I should add “more” to a particular moment in chapter 2. I was amused because I had intentionally held back.

As I finish up chapter 3, I have decided to put the original chapter 2 here before I rework it on Wattpad and Dreame. I look forward to seeing what you think and if you agree that the chapter needed “more” and where you think the more should be. The update will be available on Wattpad and Dreame by tomorrow at the latest.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2: Darren’s View

I found myself in the conference room pacing. The room felt uncomfortably hot, and I was struggling to breathe. I loosened my tie and tossed it on the ground as I tried to find a way to get more air.

But even that didn’t help. I put my hands down, bracing myself against the large conference table. As a million thoughts were racing through my head, I didn’t hear anyone enter the room.

Soon I could feel her arms around me, and I already knew. If people could see into the conference room, they would think it was just someone trying to comfort another in distress. While inappropriate for the workspace, it may still have looked innocent.

Fortunately, no windows were looking into the conference room inside the office because this was not an embrace of comfort. At least not the kind that could be excused in the office.

“So, is she fired?” Ragen asked as one of her hands slid down the front of my pants. I know I should have stopped it, but I couldn’t. I was weak.

I didn’t respond.

“I asked you a question. Is she fired?” Ragen’s voice could no longer be mistaken as kind. The words dripped like honey that you knew was laced with poison. Before I could respond, she moved her hands from outside my pants and into my boxers with unexpected quickness.

I couldn’t fight the groan that escaped as she grabbed my dick.

Fuck!

I wanted to tell her to let go. To rip her hand away, but my body betrayed me as she gently massaged me into a hardness I couldn’t control.

“I am going to ask you one more fucking time. Is Laila fired?” Ragen asked as she began to grip my dick painfully.

I quickly woke up from my mental weakness as I started falling to the floor under her grip. Ragen stood over me as I lay on the floor, trying to recover from the pain.

Darkness had consumed Ragen’s face as she looked down at me. I must admit that I was a little turned on and scared.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

She lifted her skirt just as she started to kneel. I caught a glimpse of delicate lace covering the space between her legs. During my distraction, Ragen placed her hands around my throat.

I was in shock, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. Ragen had always seemed unnaturally strong for a woman. I was a pretty big guy, but her ability to dominate me always surprised and excited me….well, until now.

I could feel myself getting light-headed under her grip, and while I tried to push her off me, she didn’t seem bothered by my attempts to move her.

She leaned in close. Her lips were so close to my face that I could taste her breath, and it was intoxicating. It always smelled like something I couldn’t identify, but it never failed to make my mind and body turn against each other.

“Sh-She is wi-w-with Mi-Michelle.” I gasped underneath her grip.

A smile soon replaced the evil look on Ragen’s face, and she let go of my throat. As I tried to breathe the air finally allowed into my lungs, Ragen crashed her lips into mine.

Whatever tension was in my body was released the moment she kissed me. I didn’t love Ragen. In fact, there were times that I genuinely hated her existence. But there was no denying that she knew how to get what she wanted from a man.

I could feel her hands reaching down into my pants again, and I flinched a little, thinking about what had just happened. She released me from the kiss and looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you not want me to touch you now?” Ragen asked with her falsely sweet tone.

I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning from the extremity of her emotions. Before I could gather my thoughts, Ragen stood up with her feet planted on the outside of my useless legs. She towered over me, and I looked as she started to pull down the lacy underwear around her long legs. She stepped one leg out of the lace and let it fall around the black stiletto beside me.

“Take them off,” she said in a low voice.

Without thinking, I immediately lifted the leg out of the pooled red lace around her shoes. My mindless actions continued as I lifted the panties to my nose to inhale her scent.

“Stand up.”

I rose to my feet and stood face to face with her. She really was beautiful. Her lips were full and covered in a glossy red. And her eyes were usually green, but when I looked down into them, they were a dark blue.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, then you can touch me. Because baby, I want to celebrate.” Ragen’s lips held a smile that didn’t quite reach the dark blue hues of her eyes.

Still mesmerized by the new color of her eyes, Ragen grabbed my hand and rubbed it between the soft folds between her legs. I closed my eyes and let out a small groan as she slid two of my fingers into her wet pussy.

When I opened my eyes, she stared back at me with a hungry expression. She leaned into me as my fingers continued to pump in and out of her. Wetness dripped all over my hand. I could feel massive discomfort in my pants as my dick fought to be released.

Ragen brushed her hands against the outline of my print. She locked eyes with me before pulling my fingers out of her and holding them up between us. Without missing a beat, she closed her mouth around my fingers, and my dick jumped.

“Hmmmm, I think you should taste this,” she says as she pulls my fingers out of her mouth, never breaking eye contact. I think she is about to push my fingers into my mouth when she suddenly pushes me onto the conference table.

I am stunned as she quickly crawls on top of me and passes the hardness in my pants. She pushes me down and is soon straddling my face.

“Eat,” she demands.

I eagerly respond. And just like her breath, her wetness is equally intoxicating. I was so lost in her taste that I didn’t realize she had already undone my pants and was now stroking my member.

Before she could cum, I shifted her down and sat her against my hard-on. She doesn’t wait long before climbing on top of me and sliding down my dick easily. She rides the hell out of me like a cowgirl before I explode inside her.

I am completely drained. When I finally have enough energy to look up, Ragen is already off the table, wiping off her thighs with my tie. She shimmies her red lace panties on and tosses my tie at me with a smirk on her face. Then she leaves without saying a word.

She is the devil. I know it.

Mental Health Journey

The Office Black Girl is Depressed

Featuredby The Office Black GirlLeave a Comment

It has been over a year since I last posted and so much has happened.

So many beautiful and painful things have consumed my days that I didn’t even know where to begin to share my thoughts. However, today I was reminded why so many black women feel the need to guard themselves from the world. Because while we want to share our vulnerable side, we are often reminded that even those closest to us cannot seem to comprehend that we need help too.

July has been the hardest month I’ve had in quite some time. Mounting debt, poor sales for my business, and other personal issues had my depression in a feeding frenzy. More often than I care to share, I would stand in my home as silence crept around me and wonder if my death would ultimately bring relief to my family.

While my brain is trained to keep my darkest thoughts and feelings to myself as to avoid burdening others, I made the mistake of sharing some of my darkness with someone I love dearly. I regretted it instantly.

The need to protect even my most dangerous thoughts was confirmed when this person angerly replied that other people had worse problems and maybe I SHOULD GO AHEAD AND DO IT….

What is more ridiculous is the fact that I was more mad at myself for even sharing my feelings than the fact that someone I love told me to go ahead and unalive myself. How messed up is that?

My mother always told me that you have to learn to save yourself because NO ONE else is going to do it. Those words have been dragging me through this episode while my depression fights to keep me unproductive. It is my mother’s strength that keeps me going even if I refuse to tell her what is going on.

I can’t lose this battle for the sake of my son and I am working on ways to heal but that takes time. Writing has always been a therapeutic activity for me since I was young, so this is where I am starting. Join me on this journey of figuring out how to heal myself because I am sure it will be one hell of a ride.

Until next time….