by Jallicia Jolly

On January 20, we witnessed yet another apocalyptic moment in world history: the inauguration of President Donald Trump. Many of us watched with intense uncertainty and sheer saltiness as President 45 accepted the keys to the Oval Office and the nuclear codes, following one of the most fear-based elections in the United States's history. I watched the tragedy with deep awe and sadness as former President Barack Obama and former First Lady Michelle Obama greeted the new First Family.

While it’s customary for the new FLOTUS to bring a gift for the outgoing FLOTUS, this particular exchange is abhorrent when situated within broader histories of white supremacy and anti-black(woman)ness. I cringed at the sight of Melania’s blue Tiffany’s box. Melania’s gift-giving reminds me of the next-door neighbor who really wants to greet you with contempt, yet insists on making you apple pie as a wanna-be polite gesture. The pie, an American symbol of comfort and familiarity, is burnt to the core and its less-than-stellar crust is hardly edible, yet your acceptance seals the stamp of benevolence and belonging on the part of the giver.

This form of gift-giving falls in line with an American tradition—a tradition that includes the simultaneous hypervisibility and invisibility of Black women as they are subjected to processes of devaluation.

Considering President Donald Trump’s platform of misogyny, racism, and xenophobia, this performance of intimacy is visceral. When coupled with Melania’s plagiarism at the Republican National Convention and ongoing cooptation of black people’s narratives, this poor performance of graceful parting is laced with the anti-black(woman)ness that subjects Black women’s labor and experiences to erasure as it places middle- and upper-class white men, women, and children within the apex of privilege and people of color in its lethal periphery.

Michelle’s inauguration face registered the moral meaning of public contempt. It renders visible the compromised space Black woman navigate as they are forced to adhere to the logics of U.S. patriotism and its blatant disregard and subjugation of people of color generally, and Black people in particular. We saw this in the use of black female grief and trauma as a political strategy at the Democratic National Convention to solidify Hillary Clinton’s connection to Black communities. We see this in historically racist and sexist economic practices that cement our financial insecurity. We also see this in the functioning of the child welfare and criminal justice systems that work to deny Black women the right to parent as they blame us for the destruction of Black communities.

It was in Michelle’s sullen face and watery eyes that I, yet again, felt the weight of what it means to live while Black and women in this country. We are low priority on the national agenda. We are hyper visibile in a toxic moral landscape historically invested in our violent denigration. We are in a state of being perpetually disposable as we are told that we should be defenseless, unpitiable, and, thus, undeserving. We juggle national and communal expectations as we manage the imposition of values, beliefs, and behaviors that are against our very existence. It requires a process that almost never encourages us to just be, forbidding us to invest in any form of full selfhood unless it services the interests and needs of anything and anyone but us—white men, white women, and Black men.

As I watched the torch passing of this new age of American empire, I thought about the ongoing exchanges and sacrifices Black women are often forced to participate in—resistance for “patriotism” and racial solidarity for gender equality, to name a couple. I imagined the stress of our dehumanization displayed by our devaluation in public policy, media, institutions and even our own communities. I pondered the psychic toll that arises from the quotidian terrors we face while trying to do our own things on our own terms in spaces that tell us we are not deserving of life, honor, and pleasure.

The ongoing juxtaposition of a “classy” Melania and a “primitive” Michelle highlights a reality: even if Black women display the most committed forms of patriotism, we are still expected to accept the justification of our violation even as we become the symbol for the Pandora's Box of American trauma.

And amidst it all, I remember the words, “when they go low, we go high.” I remember the political possibilities beyond the base dehumanization. I imagine the spaces of resistance and restoration that can allow us to dismantle systems of violence as they encourage us to transform our homeplaces and communities. I recollect the relationships that inform our strategic visions as they cultivate our minds, hearts, and souls. I think about the people that help create a present worth living and a future worth dreaming.

Needless to say, I am here for Michelle’s side eyes.

Jallicia Jolly is a writer, poet, and PhD student studying HIV/AIDS and reproductive justice in the U.S. and Caribbean. Jolly co-leads Resist.Restore. - a global-health-art organization that uses performance art, research, and community engagement to address health disparities in African diasporic communities in Brooklyn, Haiti, and Jamaica. Follow her on twitter: @jallicia

By Jaimee Swift

Last week, First Lady Michelle Obama generated media attention with her appearance at the Apollo Theater as part of the Let Girls Learn initiative. During her appearance, Mrs. Obama discussed the #62MillionGirls campaign, which brings to the forefront the international lack of access to education for girls. In a message to the White House email list, she highlights the tenets of the girl-centered education campaign, and how many girls face barriers to their education and how cultural norms and traditions also play a role in affecting their academic livelihoods.

Forbes' recently released its ranking of the 100 most powerful women in the world, a list filled with heads of state, CEOs and entrepreneurs, philanthropists, and influential entertainers all ranked by dollars, media influence, and overall impact. Eleven black women made the rank of the 2015 list. Check them all out here!

 by Shonette Reed


The first African-American First Lady of the United States of America, Michelle Obama, has taken on the role of one of the top female role models of the 21st century. She is an advocate for poverty awareness, higher education and healthy living.

by Tracey Michae’l


I remember when I first encountered the side-eye. I was probably about six or seven and watching a "conversation" between my mother and a cashier at the A&P who tried it with her about a coupon. It was a thing of beauty, this way of cutting without knives. This way of making a point and putting folks in their place with only a brief, chastising look. And my mother, well, she is the Master Po of the art: a chief side-eye slinger who spent many years teaching her little grasshopper the ways of the craft.

by Sikivu Hutchison

During her commencement speech at a Topeka Kansas high school commemorating the sixtieth anniversary of the 1954 Brown vs. Board ruling, Michelle Obama launched into a pointed critique of structural racism and injustice. Her comments were among the most frontal she’s ever made about the connection between racist stereotyping, public policy and systemic oppression. According to the First Lady, “Many young people in America are going to school largely with kids who look just like them…Too often, those schools aren’t equal; especially ones attended by students of color, which too often lag behind, with crumbling classrooms and less experienced teachers.”

Mail Online - If expanding the guest list to include Michelle Obama at graduation for high school students in the Kansas capital city means fewer seats for friends and family, some students and their parents would prefer the first lady not attend.

A furor over what the Topeka school district considers an honor has erupted after plans were announced for Obama to address a combined graduation ceremony for five area high schools next month an 8,000-seat arena. For some, it was the prospect of a tight limit on the number of seats allotted to each graduate.

by Amber Wright

Dear Mrs. Obama,

We have never met, but I feel like I know you. After all, I see your face every day on my vision board that's pinned up at my desk at work. The picture I cut out of you is strategically placed in the center of my board, for you represent the heart of all that I aspire to be.

Few of us could fill First Lady Michelle Obama's shoes and handle the hurdles she faces as the first Black woman in the East Wing of the White House with such grace.

Detractors on the Right and Left hurl baseless, nonsensical criticisms at her family, but the jabs directed at the First Lady are often the most vicious and the most ludicrous. Everything from her appearance and wardrobe to her character and mothering choices come under fire daily.

African American women have time and again demonstrated their rhetorical brilliance on the world's stage. From Sojourner Truth to Michelle Obama celebrate these women and their words.

When I was a little girl my mom filled my toy box exclusively with Barbie dolls that were all hues of black girl beautiful. Dolls with golden hair and sapphire eyes were curiously absent from my Barbie dream house. When I got older my mom told me, “What’s in front of you is what you’ll want to become.” I learned that my mother wanted me to be confident in my beauty rather than be tempted to pursue a warped definition of attractiveness.