Run! I Have Acne

Updated: Jun 15

Dear Africana Woman,

How are you? I have so much to be grateful for. The AWV Community is really growing into a lovely bouquet of amazing women. One of the members just told me the best story of how she found Africana Woman. Apparently, she was at a salon, and another lady was listening to the podcast. She couldn’t help but eavesdrop until she had to ask what the lady was listening to. Then she was introduced to the podcast. She went on to join the community and the Book Club. Now we are taking about how to collaborate. How amazing is that?

This is why I say don’t be stingy. Share this with your friends, your sisters, your mother, your nieces, your workmates … even your hairdresser lol. There is really something for everyone. My favourite part is seeing the diversity not only in ethnicity but multiple generations, locations and professions. There is something so special about interacting in diverse spaces because it expands your mind. If you only ever talk to the people that you have always known, your knowledge will stay the same. But when you interact with different kinds of people never mind that they are in different industries, you will learn new things that you can adapt in your own life. Really innovation and creation are born from inspiration. Inspiration doesn’t happen from the same old same old environment. Stretch yourself. You will be delightfully surprised.

There is something I like to talk about which is Make Yourself the Hero of Your Story and not the victim. I say this because we are always telling ourselves stories. And guess what you are always right. Whether you tell a good story or a bad story you will always be right. Take for example me. If you have seen a picture or video of me, you may not notice that I have bad acne on my face. When puberty hit my face became as rough as sand paper. The adults around me panicked and tried to ‘FIX’ me with creams, soaps, and anything you can imagine under the sun. The story I told myself is that I am ugly and I am not meant to be seen in public. Worse still I was told that is was puberty and it was a passing phase. Babe pass what, phase what? The Rocky Mountains are a mainstay on my face. There I was as an adult hiding myself, not wanting to be seen and yet my mouth couldn’t stop itself from being heard. I made myself small almost wishing to be invisible because I was ugly.