Last Friday, I flew out to the Georgia sticks for the @cowgirlsofcolorcampout hosted by the one and only Black Arkansas rodeo queen @jadayiakursh and barely took a single picture. 🥴 But baby, was I ready when it counted thanks to two ladies I just met and already adore. "Do you want a picture with the guns?" @bradleikorryn offered effortlessly like I was a houseguest in need of a glass of water. I'm fairly certain I responded in kind, nodding furiously, mouth wide open. The very recently aflame guns needed to cool down first, but the brilliant and beautiful firedancer herself @tokyomoreno came to the rescue with FIRE BUBBLES. 🤯 And y'all. Scroll to watch me unlock my fireball jutsu. Moments later, we ran into the firewood ATVs where Bradleigh and Tokyo hyped my Big Texas Energy for this absolutely unprecedented photo shoot... but more importantly, sent me packing with two brand new besties forged in fire. ❤️‍🔥

Getty Images did NOT let the Glam Squad down!! Ya girl was a nominee for the 2023 @adcolor Influencer Award (for someone who builds community, promotes inclusivity and accessibility, and creates change through their creative content on social media platforms), so showing up & showing out for the red carpet was a MUST! Even I gotta say ADCOLOR looked GOODT on me, but it wasn't without the help of so many skilled professionals, and I have all of them to thank for the awards show lewk. Too good to be our last. 😉 👑 HAIR: braids by @somethingnaturalhair , styled by Brandon at the @linkedin Style Studio 😍 EYES: Lashes by @lashguypro , Smokey Eye by @linkedin Style Studio  💅🏾 NAILS: @x.atxrosedale FIT: 🌷 vintage Lloyd's Furs Red Mink Stole 💝 @nordstrom Pavé Hoop Earrings 🔥 @vincecamuto Sequined Side Twist Gown 🌟 @givenchy Crystal Flex Bracelet 💍 my grandmother's diamond art deco ring 🥂 @inc_rtw Crystal Pave Clutch ✨ @antoniomelaniofficial Blaire Rhinestone Sandals (you can't see them, but i swear they matched PERFECTLY)

I swear I can’t even leave New Orleans without a surprise twist. Before taking I-10 back into Texas, I’d stretch my legs at a museum. Simple. A Sunday drive across the Crescent City Connection. Primo free parking right on the corner of Camp. Full sunshine for the first time all week. I know for a fact I hopped out the car with a whole vibe. I’d never been to the Contemporary Arts Center, so I didn’t think much of the man setting up a portable photography studio in their window, and didn’t want to distract him either. The vibes clearly missed the memo. Before I even crossed the street, he made eye contact. We greeted each other in unspoken Southern—genuine smiles, the static open-handed wave, all seasoned with a tiny head nod—and I kept on my way, entirely unbothered. I’d barely finished greeting the woman at the front desk when he rounded a corner behind her, camera still in hand. “I am SO glad you were coming in here. I was just on my way to catch you outside and PAY FOR YOU to come in if I had to. I’m Gus.” He explained that he was shooting an Afrofuturism series featuring ordinary people who fit the bill, but that he was also one of the featured artists in the exhibit I’d come to see. The way the universe had walked me into serendipity once again immediately clicked. This was Gus Bennett, a man who’s photographed New Orleans culture from second lines to studio portraits for over 45 years. For what felt like an hour, we were literally the only people in the gallery. I sat two feet away from his camera, laid completely vulnerable to the lens as we talked. Afterward, he asked if I’d sit for him again. We exchanged numbers and I wandered on, shaking the experience off like maybe it was just a dream? Two days later, he texted me the photograph he said best captured my personality. A man who saw me for an hour nailed it. Five days after that, I found myself unemployed. I had a whole lot of feelings about that, but one in particular was real big: Of all the wonders the universe has led me to lately, every single one came when I made my own way. Nothing about this was a setback. This is the moment before a cosmic body goes supernova.

BLACK BAGS, Vol. 4 — FANM DJANM  If a photograph of Ellen Valenton ever existed, it didn’t survive nearly two centuries. So I have no idea if she left her house in New Orleans’ 10th Ward wearing a tignon.  But Ellen was exactly who Tignon Laws were designed to oppress. New Orleans’ femmes des couleur libre—free women of color—held a unique social status. They owned their own property and businesses, exercised their legal rights, and some achieved a net worth upward of $10,000. With all this access, they’d become white men’s companions, white women’s competition, and total chaos to a social hierarchy established on skin color. And Ellen DID leave a glimpse of that chaos behind. Starting with the 1860 U.S. Census, she and her daughters are magically “white” then “negro” over and over again. So, since they weren’t always clearly identifiable and could all use a visible reminder of their place, women of color — whether light or dark, free or enslaved — were forced to identify as a “slave class” whose hair would be covered in public with “tignons.” But the moment Empress Joséphine Bonaparte saw women of all skin colors wearing gorgeous tignons and started wearing one of her own, the femmes des couleur libre’s Scarlet Letter was suddenly mainstream fashion. So I can’t know for sure if Ellen wore a tignon for the culture, for the style, or if she refused altogether. But I’m absolutely certain of the rest. Because Ellen Valenton is my great-great-great-grandmother. So I walked into @fanmdjanm (Haitian Kreyol for “strong woman”) less focused on spending money than what I had to gain. Rich silk, crisp cotton, and buttery jersey lined a full wall like paint samples of both vibrant color and vivid history, with each one calling to mind some photograph, painting, or real life experience with women across the African diaspora. But I can only imagine Ellen. And when I do, a portrait comes to mind: Jacques Amans’ "Creole in a Red Headdress." I wonder how many other women walk into Fanm Djanm with that same vision. And how many more walk out completely unaware that their paper bag is carrying a crown. Find one to fit you at fanmdjanm.com. #BlackHistoryMonth

tfw you find Murray's ancestors too 🙌🏽💃🏽🕺🏽🪮 #BLACKBAGS #BlackHistoryMonth

BLACK BAGS, Vol. 3 — BLK MKT Vintage | SUPPLEMENTAL I’ve got over 15 years of education and experience in Advertising. That makes me Old Head and Baby Girl at the same damn time. Still, enough that I should have known the name “Charles Dawson” WAY BEFORE this vintage Slick Black Hair Color broadside from @blkmktvintage arrived at my door. During the Great Depression — nearly 40 years before “Black was Beautiful”— Black designer Charles Dawson created gorgeous packaging targeting Black and Latino consumers for Chicago’s Jewish-owned Valmor Products. And not just a handful of niche hair pomades. Valmor’s subsidiaries included Lucky Brown, Peachy Brown, Sweet Georgia Brown, Madam Jones, King Novelty, Famous Products Company, and many, many more. Hundreds of face creams, hair products, perfumes & body oils, toothpastes, lotions, and home goods spanning global mail-order catalog, direct-to-consumer, and national drugstore distribution. With people of color front and center on nearly every label. Headquartered in one of the cities that put advertising on the map. Charles Dawson was more than a graphic designer. He was the Black beauty blueprint. And I had to stumble across an 80-year-old+ rarity to even learn his name. Yesterday, I dropped a term that might be unfamiliar: SANKOFA. It’s a Ghanian word whose literal translation is “it is not taboo to fetch what is at risk of being left behind.” Put simply, “go back and get it.” Since the day BLK MKT Vintage introduced me to Charles Dawson, I’ve collected several of his originals, each one highlighting his stunning illustrations, signature primary colors, and exceptional talent at balancing bold design and a staggering amount of copy. Nobody ever taught me about Charles Dawson’s work. Let alone his successor Jay Johnson. And if I had a dollar… I’d be a billionaire. Because they’re just a couple among countless legends nearly erased by who gets to tell the story. And among many reasons I’m thankful to BLK MKT Vintage for helping me go back and get them. 🖤 There’s so much more waiting at blkmktvintage.com. 🖤 Dive into Charles Dawson at the @madeinchicagomuseum . #BLACKBAGS #BlackHistoryMonth

BLACK BAGS, Vol. 3 | BLK MKT Vintage @blkmktvintage has seen more of my paychecks than the other three BLACK BAGS shops combined. Theirs is also the only one I’ve never actually set foot into, and just one reason I try to avoid the phrase “next time.” I mean… I WAS IN BROOKLYN AND EVERYTHINGGGG! And then NY street photographer Louis Mendez said he wanted to get a picture of me with Spike Lee. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I regret (almost) nothing. It even felt like fate that when I went looking for Brooklyn’s Black history, it found me instead. (TSA and my bank account were also fully on board with fate, tbh.) Until… BLK MKT Vintage closed their gorgeous brick-and-mortar, home to “collectibles, cast-offs and curiosities, which represent the richness of Black history.” My inner antiquer will NEVER recover. Sure, there’s no shortage of antique piles to comb for treasures. Those treasures, though, so rarely reflect ME. Discarded drawers overflow with beautifully illustrated Victorian postcards, maybe five of which feature a dignified representation of Blackness. Gibson Girls, Norman Rockwell families, and feathered blonde hair grin from vintage ads, as if Coca-Cola and Budweiser bottles were labeled “Whites Only” too. But BLK MKT Vintage curates ephemera that specifically bears witness to the Black lived experience. In my case, that’s an original Angela Davis FBI wanted poster and a 1930’s Slick Black hair product ad, two of my most prized BLK MKT Vintage finds. But they also sell books, photographs, movie memorabilia, home decor and other meaningful cultural objects. BLK MKT Vintage is the repository where there’s more to Black Americana than Bojangles, pickaninnies, and Aunt Jemima. It’s a library of the Black diaspora from afros and Maya Angelou to Zambian art and Ziggy Marley. Scattered throughout, general antiques like Kodak cameras, mid-century tins, even tourism bumper stickers, give BLK MKT Vintage’s inventory added depth that mirrors the Black American experience in itself — we stand at the intersection of American culture. So do they. And nothing would please me more than helping discover something that fits you at blkmktvintage.com #BlackHistoryMonth

Michelle could probably tell you the exact moment we met in 9th grade. But I can tell you the exact place we became inseparable: In the newsroom. By 12th grade, she was yearbook staff’s lead photographer, I was newspaper staff’s editor-in-chief. Until then, we’d shared countless moments at West Brook. Suddenly, we captured everybody else’s too. One way or another, the two of us would spend nearly every day of senior year at each other’s side. And the few times we were apart, she’d stitched us together in the most thoughtful graduation gift — a series of collaged photographs with her thoughts & our memories inscribed on the back of each one. We drifted when our worlds expanded, but still treasured the friendship tucked into keepsake boxes, bookshelves, picture frames, and phone screens. Until 2021, when she literally stitched us back together again. Her vision and eye for detail translated into the most amazing quiltwork.  And my writing had inspired her very first Totem Quilt, with each panel telling a story of its own. A piece of notebook paper with hearts in the margins would have delighted me. A piece of herself was an HEIRLOOM. And I told her so. I even asked to share it. I thought there would be time. Time to share her incredible talent. Time to hole up in the wee hours again, reassuring someone that we were okay because we were together. Time to tell everybody about the girl who did more than just believe in who I was and would become… Michie was the other half of the story. It never even occurred to me that I’d be telling it without my best friend. Forever. 💔 . . . . Good night, Michelle Brooke 2/15/2026

BLACK BAGS, Vol. 2 — @justaddhoney Atlanta’s full of Black legacies & landmarks. It’s also home to my favorite place to indulge in a tradition that’s been almost entirely erased. But it's not exclusive to Atlanta. It fits in a teacup. So, how is tea Black History when the only drink more common is water? (And maybe Coca-Cola?) It’s community. Comfort. Contemplation. It’s all the things enslaved Black people were forbidden. But today, the husband/wife duo at @justaddhoney are reclaiming all of that. Their tea room, steps from the Eastern Beltline, is only 7 years old, but there’s centuries of subversion behind it. I didn’t know that when I stepped in or out with my very first cup and bag. MOST people don’t because like so many Black traditions, this one grew in secret. All that remains of it are stories handed down by a few surviving families, a handful of objects, and the businesses born from its legacy. Every February 15th, after the enslavers’ lavish Valentine’s events, Black Americans held their own tea parties. But they weren’t allowed to gather en masse so invitations took clever shape. While the ladies prepared to host, the men visited neighboring houses to “borrow a tea cup.” One-by-one, guests arrived with their plantation china hand-me-downs for a simple pleasure nearly everyone else in the world freely enjoyed. But even “freedom” didn’t mean moving freely. Between southern slave patrols and Jim Crow laws, there was no safer place to meet, whether with white abolitionists or each other, than over an intimate cup of civilization. And when the Black church became a pillar for the Civil Rights Movement, it wasn’t the only service turned strategy. Segregated tea rooms transformed a practice once secret by necessity into a public revenue stream for Black women, America’s first working experts in the household arts. Tea’s significantly shaped every corner of the world we live in. But after today, I’m certain your next cup hits just a little differently, especially filled by people whose ancestors always tasted its power. Black History’s served in all sorts of varieties at justaddhoney.net. 🖤 #BlackBags #JustAddHoney #BlackHistoryMonth

BLACK BAGS, Vol. 1 — Denim Tears | SUPPLEMENTAL Look closely in my “Black Bags” posts and you’ll find the occasional Easter egg. This might be my favorite of them. In my last post, peeking from behind my neatly wrapped @denimtears parcel, very real postcard photographs—some even embossed with the studio’s logo—tell stories of their own. These are the faces inspiring the @metmuseum Superfine exhibit and Denim Tears, hidden behind the veil of American History. An immaculate gentleman, fitted even to the buttons on his heeled shoes. Sisters in satin and lace, gazing from a beautiful Victrola. Lovers—maybe even honeymooners?—riding a donkey cart in Mexico. A bespectacled musician accessorized with elbow-length gloves, perhaps to hide fingers worn from the strings? A woman dressed all in black, whose ruffled lace waistcoat is only outdone by the exquisite jeweled bracelet and ring on her hands. Photographs of Black people from days past already seem rare. Photographs of them dressed in and surrounded by such luxury feel priceless. But these five only scratch the surface of my collection. And Superfine, hosted in the Met Museum’s premier gallery, only housed a fraction of the finery owned, made and inspired by Black Americans. Denim Tears is their legacy. Together, all three—the photographs, the exhibit, and the brand—bear witness that creative, adventurous, romantic, bespoke, affluent, and deserving have never been synonymous with “white.” . . . . . . . . . . . Get your African Diaspora Goods at denimtears.com For more photos like these, follow curator at the @schomburgcenter and author, Kimberly Annece Henderson at @emalineandthem . #DenimTears #Superfine #BlackBags #TheAmericanBlackstory #BlackHistoryMonth

Just around the corner from the likes of Chloë and Alexander Wang, a simple, black sign stands in sharp contrast to its Spring Street neighbors, holding space for an unexpected commodity: “AFRICAN DIASPORA GOODS.” There wasn’t a matching sign outside of Gallery 999 at the Met Museum, but my involuntary double-take was surely the same. Especially after I’d barely escaped the museum gift shop with my life.  Spanning multiple tables outside of the Superfine: Tailoring Black Style exhibit, @denimtears wouldn’t even let me come up for air. Union Jack and American flag sweaters redesigned in Pan-African green, red, and black. Plush, leather watermelon wallets in collaboration with Commęs des Garçon and logo baseball hats reminiscent of 1990s Ralph Lauren. A single t-shirt featuring Andre Leon Talley, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Andre Walker, makeup-smudged at the collar, hung deep on a rack. I snatched it like the last loaf of bread before the apocalypse. And despite being almost that poor… NEXT STOP: 176 Spring Street.  Between the Met Museum merch table and a Denim Tears ensemble featured in the Superfine exhibit (which remains in the Met’s permanent collection), the thread was clear. Bespoke, imaginative clothing in luxurious fabrics, designed for Black bodies but accessible to anybody with swag (and the money to pay for it). But on Spring Street, brand new themes like a Black Poseidon threatening a schooner daring to sail the Middle Passage, or cheeky Cotton Club dancers, come to life on shirts. The brand’s signature cotton wreath design adorned sweats in every color, a symbol of cotton’s significance to the fashion industry, and a tribute to the enslaved people who made that possible. Even the Denim Tears name honors the trials and tribulations Black people have overcome while still serving as the standard in fashion and culture. If money and carry-on capacity were no object, I’d have taken one of everything. Before I even walked into Denim Tears, I was a fan. Since I walked out, that’s MS. Princess of Black Power, you ragamuffins. Put your power on at denimtears.com 🖤 #BlackBags #denimtears #TheAmericanBlackstory #blackhistorymonth

Most years, my general existence at @wherejoywanders and my storytelling at @theamericanblackstory tend to inadvertently overlap. But celebrating 100 years of Black History Month felt like a time to be more intentional. Because as much as it pains this writer to say it, marking another 100 is going to take more than telling stories. Especially in an era where books are banned, files are redacted, sources are silenced, and the truth is simply rewritten daily. It’s going to take solidarity. So I’m gathering all of my skillsets to deliver something new this February. “Black Bags” combines my travels, my Black Americana, and my brand storytelling to spotlight businesses making Black History mainstream. Come turn your 28 days into 365 with me and my favorite Black-owned & operated shops each Monday (starting tonight) on IG at @theamericanblackstory , @wherejoywanders , and theamericanblackstory.com #BlackBags #TheAmericanBlackstory #BlackHistoryMonth2026