I’d intended to blog about my daily exquisite self-care journey in the last few weeks and was sidetracked by the results of that journey.  Practicing an act of exquisite self-care every day opened me up to the miracle of getting my work published in an online magazine.  When you do something lovely for yourself every day, everyone and everything falls in line with you making miracles and exquisite care the norm.

In the midst of learning to love myself this month, I noticed that the default is for me NOT to love myself or treat myself kindly.  As a woman in American society, I have more than a few reminders about how not enough I am and what I need to buy, have, do to remedy that.  As a woman of color, I’ve been noticing that there has been a lot of media coverage on the hopelessness of black women’s romantic prospects.  In response, I wrote a piece on MadameNoire.com rejecting all the doom-crying, tying this media barrage to the image of the Obama marriage:

Week after week, media reports remind single, educated, black women to worry themselves to death. Since when did the media become this  obsessed with the state of black womanhood?  When did they start caring whether we made it?  Why all the recent concern and even coverage from Nightline?