Reclaiming My Body: A Journey from Judgment to Empowerment

Trigger warning: This post discusses sexual assault and personal healing.

My body is a beautiful vessel made up of hills, craters, smooth surfaces, bumps and bruises. My body is magic. My body is water AND fire. The air flows and moves around ME. 

My journey to body positivity and sexual empowerment wasn't a straight path—it was a winding road marked by pain, growth, and ultimately, profound self-discovery and love. Growing up in a deeply Christian environment, my understanding of my body was rooted in shame, restriction, and judgment. My body was something to be controlled, hidden, and ultimately, apologized for.

The Chains of Judgment

In my late teens, my world was defined by rigid boundaries. My body was not my own—it was a vessel to be policed, a territory to be monitored by external expectations and religious doctrine. Sexuality was a forbidden landscape, something to be feared rather than explored, celebrated, or understood. I internalized messages that my body was inherently sinful, that desire was weakness, and that my worth was directly tied to my ability to conform to impossible standards of purity.

Transformation Through Trauma

The irony of my journey is not lost on me. It was through experiences of assault—moments where my bodily autonomy was violently stripped away—that I began to truly understand the radical act of reclaiming my physicality. Trauma, in its devastating complexity, became the catalyst for my transformation.

Each painful experience became a stepping stone towards understanding that my body is not something to be ashamed of, but a sacred space of resilience, pleasure, and infinite possibility. The very experiences designed to break me became the foundation of my most profound self-love.

The Art of Sensual Self-Love

Healing is not linear. It's messy, complicated, and deeply personal. For me, sensual self-love became a radical form of resistance. It meant:

• Recognizing that my body belongs entirely to me

• Understanding that pleasure is not shameful, but a fundamental human right

• Learning to touch myself—literally and metaphorically—with compassion

• Dismantling internalized narratives of unworthiness

• Celebrating my body in all its complexity, scars, and beauty

A Trauma-Informed Lens of Empowerment

My evolution taught me that body positivity is not just about loving how you look—it's about loving how you feel, how you exist, how you take up space. It's about creating safe, affirming spaces for others to do the same.

Through a trauma-informed lens, I've learned that healing is collective. By speaking openly about my journey, by refusing to be silenced, I create space for others to recognize their own worth. My story is not just about survival—it's about thriving, about transforming pain into power.

The Ongoing Journey

I am a kink-positive, body-positive warrior. I am soft AND strong. They can co-exist. I am healing and healed. My body is not a battleground—it is a home, a sanctuary, a celebration.

To anyone reading this who has felt shame, who has been told their body is anything less than miraculous: You are worthy. You are powerful. Your body is a revolution.

Love yourself fiercely. Unapologetically. Completely.

-March 5, 2025

The Day I Stopped RunninG…

Sunday, November 15, 2020, I lost my coffee partner. My grandma was many things to me. If you get a chance to read my blog For Women Seeking Other Magical Women: My 7 Inspirations in Human Form, you would know I refer to her as my quiet crusader. She lived for the people she loved and in many ways was a second mother to me. There are so many moments in my life I could not imagine her not being a part of. So, when I found out my coffee partner had pancreatic cancer, coffee began to taste a lot more bitter even with all the cream and sugar in the world. 

What happened the first time you learned about your loved ones decline? Did you even get time to process? Or were they taken from you in an instant? We all grieve differently. Some things that I am learning is that the stages of grief coined by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, are only a start. There are even talks of there actually being 7 stages. We can be technical about all of this, but what I have learned PERSONALLY is that PRE-grief stages are a thing. In this blog, I will walk through the stages I went through knowing that grief or loss was on the other side AND I will walk through the stages I have battled after loss and maybe even currently battling. 

Unfortunately for some, I will not be giving a trigger warning. I pray my story reaches everyone it needs to. Grief is a hard pill to swallow, but we ALL have to face it at some point in our lives. Though some parts might be triggering, they are REAL and what I will say is make sure you have safety measures and safe spaces in place to process this information. 

Your discernment kicks into overdrive 

After that first day my mom told me about my grandmother having cancer, all I could do is pray and ask God all the questions in the world. I did not understand, but God spoke to me every time I prayed after that day. I knew she was leaving us long before anyone else did... After I found out, I went home for the holidays and made it a point even during the pandemic to self quarantine, get tested frequently and drive to Detroit to get to her for months at a time. Most days I just stared at her, hoping I get a few more moments. Hoping I hold on to the laughs and memories when she’s gone, and not the pain of her absence. What if you knew how much time you had? How would you move? What would you do? What I would recommend is instead of wishing and hoping, LIVE. Talk about those memories while your person can still talk, remember, and recount. Make those days with your loved ones count. 

When the eye rolls aren’t worth it

I remember the days I caught myself during every eye roll that wasn’t worth it...every bit of irritation and every bit of angst. I had time with her so I was trying to be grateful. Some days her particularity and inability to eat or do some things made me upset. But I had to realize, a lot of my angst wasn’t with her. I battled myself and my anger for the situation she was in MANY times! Yes, at times I got a little agitated when I told her she had to lay down and not walk or didn’t eat what I gave her, but I realized later that she was doing many of those things for the LAST time and they were all signs of what was coming. The next time your loved one says or does something you don’t agree with or like, just say that and move on, don’t roll your eyes and don’t ignore them. It could be the LAST time...

I prepared my grandma for my families’ last goodbyes

When you go through your stages of grief early, you develop a shield. My shield was one of trying to always be prepared for her transition at any moment. I always told myself that my ugly cries on my morning runs, cries in the shower and on my pillow, were me “grieving now before the storm”. But did that prepare me or simply make me numb to the facts? Moments after realizing she was actually gone in front of my eyes, my discernment went into overdrive. I helped the nurse prepare her to be seen by our family for the last time. Whenever we were going to take a picture, or someone was coming to the house, the first things my grandma did was pic her hair out and put in her “world of curls'' activator. I grabbed those things along with her smell good lotions and went to work. All I could think was, “they’re not gonna catch my grandma slipping!” I am not gonna say that this process won’t affect me long term, BUT I prepared for it. I had spent so much time with my shield on that I forgot to feel. I wish I would have felt more through those final moments. What I want to tell you is BREATHE family, FEEL, and share your feelings with the people grieving WITH YOU. 

I wrote and read the Obituary for my Grandma’s Memorial

Of course with Covid-19, losing a loved one looked quite different for us ALL. Though my grandma wanted to be cremated, we all decided a memorial during this time would be most fitting. Once again, my shield kicked in. I immediately put my graphic design hat on and got to work. I created my grandma’s obituary, while my family chipped in findings photos and detailed information about her life to add. It was an emotional process, but so rewarding at the same time. Once again, I was allowed to set the standard and image that she would want for herself and for me, that was enough. At the end of life, just honor their wishes. The rest is just for you and other people and sometimes that is not the way to go. 

The Day I Stopped Running…

The day I stopped running, I also turned cold. Not only was it freezing outside most days, but I now had a cold corner in my heart that crept into my consciousness in those days I felt like giving up. There were literally times where I sort of “blacked out”. YES, there are still conversations and actions that I took that I simply cannot remember. It is a SCARY thing. When grief took over my heart and mind, it left me with a blanket over my eyes that I had no idea how to come back from. I hurt a few people’s feelings and projected so much mental harm onto people that I love. Luckily I have built lasting relationships that I was able to recover from these situations, but I am not sure if the people that I harmed will ever forget my attempt at giving frostbite to their hearts too. If you feel your heart growing cold, figure out what’s going to keep the furnace going...

Your realities turn to dreams:

(waking up at 4am all the time for my “shift”)

During some of the last months and weeks of my grandmother being sick, she needed around the clock care. Someone needed to be in the house with her at all times. Once we needed to give her continuous medicine, that meant setting alarms at all hours of the night, OR not sleeping at all because we were anxious to give her the next dose, OR listening out in case she screamed because of the pain. My reality of waking up at 1am and 4 am turned into dreams well after my grandmother actually passed on. I woke up in puddles of my own sweat and sometimes didn’t even get full nights of rest for days, weeks, and still months after my grandmother passed. Meditation apps, water sounds, and white noise are becoming some of the life savers when I cannot seem to shake that 4am alarm clock in my head. 

You reckon with your own life and death

Driving on the freeway each time I left home was a struggle. It is crazy how many times after you lose someone that you reckon with your own life. I cannot even count how many times I asked God if he would take me to be with her...The third time I contemplated driving myself off the road was in the middle of an ice storm. I figured, this is my time, God you could just take me now, no one would miss me right? I could be with my grandma and have coffee every day again with as much cream and sugar as I wanted because it would be heaven right? And who cares about carbs in heaven. All jokes aside, this was serious. I have struggled with suicidal ideation in the past with other traumas as a teenager, but this adulthood grief hit differently. I had lost someone that I feel like has made a contribution to so much of the woman that I am. After that third time, I realized, It would be a disservice to my grandma, my family, myself and all my dreams that my ancestors have laid out for me. My time and your time is not over fam <3. 

Grief is like a festering scab

What a lot of people do not tell you about grief is that it is like a festering scab. It’s a fresh sore or cut for a while, then it starts to slowly heal, but don’t hit your wound on something or pick at it, because that thing will open up AGAIN. Grief is a continuous cycle, sometimes you may be coming to a coping stage, then a trigger knocks you right back to that reckoning. You may be at that reckoning then HOPE hits you like a ton of bricks, a smile brushes over your face and you feel that you are accepting your loss. Your wound will HEAL at its own pace. You can put all the topical antibiotics on it that you want, but the work is done internally. All that infection needs to be blocked from the inside, and you cannot do that unless you WORK. The key is to not accept defeat. Lay down for a while, cry and even take a couple days, but GET BACK UP and thug it out for your loved one. They do not want to see you in bed another day.

To all my family and friends out there battling with grief and loss, I feel you, I am praying for you and I AM YOU. We smile and masquerade throughout the days like we are not hurting each day we think about our loved one not being here. We WILL get through this, and we WILL overcome. I love you and I am here for you. And as my grandma would always say, it’s not bye, it’s talk to you later.

Yours in the fight,

Brie Milan (4/6/2021)

MXSE

I write this because I am in the process of healing. From traumas, pain, loss, relationships, love. The whole gamut. But one thing about me. I’m gone leave it all where it’s at. I am putting a series of messages I’ve received, sent, and anonymously received from my brothas and sistas. The toxicity for me, stops TODAY. To all those muses who choose to still send me toxic messages after this. I promise you. You will be left on READ...Enjoy. Respectfully, Brie Milan (11/6/20)

MY BODY TELLS A STORY.....

Truth Lies in my top half…

My body tells a story of its own….Each strand on the top of my mostly loose and flaky scalp tells a tale. About as thick as a blade of grass and coily in its true form, each strand has endured the tugging and once tight hair bows and hot pressing combs, with a lil’ bit of pressing oil probably still caked up in there somehow. Each strand down to the little hairs that line my neck and that sit between my thick, unplucked eyebrows have a story. Dark brown, protruding, almond, upturned eyes have seen what it’s like for flowers to bloom and die. 

My nose, pointed straight out in one direction, but spread almost two inches wide in another, has smelled some of the sweetest of my grandma’s cooking and some of the worst of my brothers’ fun outside. The wrinkles in my top lip run every which way and my bottom lip barely ever touches the top. My smile crooked, and the teeth between my front and my canine are nowhere to be found. These wrinkled, almost aged lines always show up beside my mouth because I can never seem to stop smiling. =) 

My cheeks, the same as when I was six months old and my chin imprinted with a dimple the size of a baby’s pinky. Ears on each side of my face big enough to hold up my hefty crown. And this neck is almost as if those “baby fat” rolls never left but it’s kept my head high through some of what I once thought were shameful times. My broad shoulders stand with built in shoulder pads to endure the storms and my chest stands tall to hold up my breasts that beautifully hang low, right above my stomach that is lined with stretch marks just a little darker than the ones on the folds of my arms, and a peculiar shaped burn mark that I rather not explain. 

The stretch marks on the folds of my arm, with a birthmark on my left, along with the thick hairs that line my forearm, are what make me most unique. My personal favorite is the lumpy scar left on my left hand, right below my pinky, where my 6th finger once hung. My large nail beds, that I once happily sat and got polished at only one year old, are now covered by my crafty claws I did myself. 

Secrets lie in my lower half…

Virtuously traveling back up my rather long fingers, hovering over my wrists I see my scarred cut marks where I once attempted to stop loving myself forever at 16. Those same scars,  mirroring a tattooed infinity symbol making out the words “my brothers’ and sister’s keeper”, with a one inch holy cross in the middle are shouting over to my other wrist that wears a crowned rose and reads, “31:25”, ‘Proverbs’ that is. 

Yoni like a sunflower, me too, seeking light and truth. Hips and thighs spread as far as the Nile and imprinted with another birthmark on my left side. The dimples in and out of the surface of my thighs are like the moon, but smooth, and bring warmth like the sun.  If I turn around, you will find folds on the sides of my back that protect my spine from the weights I have carried. Those same hairs I told you about that line my neck, also make their way down my spine, approaching the hills that begin at my lower back. 

Now the relationship I have with the next part of me is the hardest. They say it’s where the “sun don’t shine”, and where many men wished their hands would lie; yet, like a pillow, my rocky hills support me when I clumsily fall over my own pigeon toed feet. Under THOSE hills are more moon craters, making their way down to my bulged and muscular calves, thick haired legs, and long feet with chunky brown toes. Those same toes probably have a pastel colored nail polish, with the pinky toe bare, because the toenail never grew in. My pigeon toes have walked from being completely turned in to now keeping their own comfortable stride, while still having their own mind when I run a little too fast. All of these features covered by my brown sugar, shea butter smooth, imperfect skin, are what make me unapologetically, Brie. 

The journey lies within…

Like many people, I’m on this journey of self discovery. I want to fully, honestly, and wholeheartedly, LOVE who I am so I can continue to learn to love others honestly. My body tells a story of its own...and I encourage you to tell yours…

I challenge you to look at that one selfie you kept, but never quite grew to like enough to post, or grab a mirror. After you do that, just sit and stare. Stare at that photo and start to write what you see. No criticizing, no judging, just WRITE.....If it brings you pain CRY, if it brings you joy, LAUGH and if it even brings you memories, HOLD THEM. Keep reading what you write to yourself until you GRIN at the thought of YOU...Support is never far away. 

With love, Brie Milan <3

The Real “Life after Education” 

This post is well overdue, but “better late than never” right? Haha. Well, I have had a lot of transition since moving from Philadelphia, including moving back home to Detroit in 2018 a few months post graduation with my Masters in Social Work from the University of Pennsylvania, then moving to Durham, North Carolina at the top of 2019. 

If you follow me on Instagram, you know I unfortunately fell victim to the “only posting the wins” back in 2018. I say this because starting around April  2018, leading up to graduation, I began to use the hashtag, #LifeAfterEducation, posting glamorous photos of myself “living my best life”. What my instagram did not show you, is that I STRUGGLED in my life after graduation. I spent more nights crying than I did interviewing for jobs and even contemplating my very existence FAR too many times. I am fighting tears even sharing my story now... 

Here is what to know for “post grad” life and ways to combat not having a guaranteed job or opportunity post graduation. This goes for folks ending vocational schools, undergraduate education, graduate degrees and any opportunity that comes as a completion of a milestone in life. Though all of my stages may not apply to you, I am hoping my journey encourages someone else.

The Job Hunt 

I was the person that started looking for jobs as early as February of my graduation year. I archived jobs on Glassdoor, Indeed and Google. I started connecting with alumni from my program and people I knew in different places. The one thing I did not do until late, was tap into “LinkedIn Jobs”. This tool by far was the cleanest, most efficient and up to date with information, job postings and direct ways to connect with employers. If no one has told you thus far, investing in a Premium account is WORTH IT, especially if your free trial runs out and you are still early in the job/opportunity search. With this platform, I went from one interview bi-weekly to up to three interviews a week. But, LinkedIn jobs was not the only platform that got me the interviews. I OPENED MY MOUTH. This situation was the epitome of “closed mouths don’t get fed.” I stopped being prideful and telling folks I did not need help, and let friends, mentors, and other individuals send me jobs, connections and put in a good word for me. It works! 

“The Hustle”

What my Instagram did not tell you is that I was unemployed post grad for 9 months. Careerless, I turned to what I know best, HUSTLING. Don’t worry I didn’t do anything illegal, but I did hit the streets excessively through Lyft, Doordash, and doing hair.  After I graduated I spent 3 months in Philadelphia driving Lyft. Then, I realized I could no longer pay to live on my own so I moved back home to Detroit with two suitcases and the rest of my things left in a storage facility in Philadelphia. Each morning I would drop my little sister off at school and I drove from 6am - 2am most days, driving Lyft in the city of Detroit while living with my mom. I left home in 2012 when I started undergrad and never thought I would HAVE to go back or struggle for my next meal or money ever again. But, sometimes life applies pressure and to get to that “diamond” we have to push right back against that same pressure.

Setbacks 

We go to school, get expensive degrees, and just know the jobs will come rolling in day after day. But, that is not always the case. I attended two elite institutions and interned or studied abroad every summer I got my education, for 6 years straight, yet my application was not being picked. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely got interviews for some amazing firms, universities, non-profits and small businesses, but it just did not work out. Some either were looking for more “work experience” or I just missed a few more skills they needed. Others did not want a person who needed to “relocate”. I even made it to the LAST stage of interview processes and they still picked the other candidate (this happened to me a week before graduation y’all and I just knew I was done with my search). 

Lessons from this are simple, make sure you are tailoring your cover letter properly, get multiple folks to check over your resume (even pay for a service if you need to, I know a couple of great people), and do not get discouraged! There will be setbacks. I applied for over 20 jobs a week for 9 months straight and did not land my job until January of 2019, but through all the tears and doubt, I kept my FAITH.

Opportunities

Opportunities, interviews and offers rolled in quite frequently after I did a few things. Number one was maximizing my use of the LinkedIn Jobs Premium account. The second is asking for help and utilizing those connections, mentors and friends willing to support. The third is minimizing self-doubt. The more you amplify your confidence and skill set, the more it will shine through in your interviews and the way you speak about your talents. The fourth which I still follow up on, is staying connected with recruiters, especially if it was a job you got an interview with before and was told you just need to brush up on some key skills. The fifth is don’t be afraid to hustle if you have to! Tap into new skills, be creative, and step out of your comfort zone.

The last thing I did was be patient. I am not saying you will get a job tomorrow or that it will even take as long as it took me, but you will need to “trust the process” and take your time with your application, preparation and interviews. If it helps to compartmentalize searches by industry and location, do that too. The opportunities are endless, you just have to find the right one for you.

My “Advice”

Through all of this my last and final advice is to NOT LISTEN TO ADVICE. Sounds contradictory I know, but I say this because, if I had listened to some advice I had received early on, I would have ended up in an industry I hated, or even a job I was “settling for”. I waited for the right opportunity at the time and it worked for me. I now work at the Mary Lou Williams Center for Black Culture at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina (more about this move in posts to come) doing Student Development, Marketing and Communications and Programming. Overall I hope you find your peace, joy, and understanding throughout this process, even with the current circumstances. While opportunity hunting, take care of yourself, tap into what makes you confident and most importantly what brings you joy.

Thank you to everyone that supported me while I was down and saw me through to my NOW. And to everyone else, use this time to walk in YOUR PURPOSE friends! Until next time <3

The reason I cringe every time I hear a truck back up

You know that loud “BEEP” you hear when a truck backs up? You may not have noticed it every single time, but I do. In 2001, I started to understand what bullying looked like. This was when I found out that the cruelty of gossiping was real and that little girls could be some of the meanest people I would ever encounter. In 2003 I realized that I had low self-esteem and that no matter what people did to me I felt too powerless to “fight back”.

Where it all began…

Lunchroom drama was always where it started. Whispers often got many of us in trouble and the classic “telephone” game became reality. Something I mentioned to a friend became extremely misconstrued and from that day forward, I became a victim to 4 girls who I thought were my best friends. I never had visible scars, but the scar I had on my heart never compared to what they did to me. I’ve had my pony tails yanked, my head pushed to the ground, and punches to the middle of my back while I walked in a single file line.  Their favorite thing to tell me was that "you're going to hell because you believe in Santa Claus". I was a naive kid, I wanted something to believe in that wouldn't disappoint me. People always said I was “too nice”, but what could one do while being attacked by 4 and sometimes 6 other people?

The day I learned what racism looked like…

I thought leaving one school meant that I could now make friends but in 2005, I understood what bullying in the form of racism meant. At the end of my elementary school career, I made my transition to 5th and 6th grade, while I also made my transition to a predominantly white school. Being one of the only black girls in my class and in the school, I was subject to so many questions, criticisms, and microaggressions. I understood what bullying meant as a preteen the first time I got feelings for a white boy in my class. He immediately felt threatened by this and decided that I now would become the laughing stock of the entire 5th and 6th grade classes.  I will never forget the words he said to me when he found out I liked him. He said, “I would never like a fat nigger like you.” That was the day I found out my blackness would never be ignored and that all people of all races have their own form of cruelty.

When “friends” call it “tough love”

In 2006 I made another transition. I went from a predominantly white school to a now predominantly black and partially Hispanic neighborhood and school system. This is where I became subject to the “you talk white” phenomenon. I became the center of attention being the “white girl” and the “fat girl with the big butt”. I remember the thing two boys that I thought were my friends loved to do was make the “beep beep beep” noise when I walked by or when I got up from my chair. My least favorite sound was the smashing motion they made every time I sat down in my chair. I never understood why I cringe every time I hear a truck back up, but a recollection of each of these memories helped me confront that part of my trauma.

 When I realized it would never be over…

Spring 2013, I began to realize that bullying could not stop until I became aware of myself and what it means to stand up for not only oneself but for others around me. I came to understand that modern day bullies came in the form of men and women who like to find your weaknesses and capitalize off of “building you up”, or simply bringing you down below them. My parents are upset to this very day that I never told them I was bullied, but I realized that I was always afraid. I was afraid that people would call me weak, or that my parents would be disappointed in me because they always said to “fight back”. I missed out on so many experiences and true friendships because I was always afraid to be the wrong center of attention, subject to abuse, and humiliated yet again. It’s a shame to say that at 23 I am just beginning to make true friends, but I am glad I finally understand how to fight back and push away from my bullies.

To those battling with bullying…

You are not weak. Your affection, kind heart, creativity, and nurturing spirit make you strong. Don’t be afraid to tell the truth, express your heart, and make it known that you are not to be stepped on. You have the voice to be a light for others and a warrior for your own self-interest. You can beat this. Reach out for help because everything cannot always be done on your own. Please do not remain silent. Prosper. 

Letter to my Sister

A Woman’s Worth Timeline

At an early age baby girls are told many things about their beauty, brains, talents, abilities, strength, and maybe even their independence, but how many are told how much they are worth? This is not in the form of how much they can make exposing their bodies or how much they are worth to have spent on them on a nice date. My definition of worth pertains to the ability to make decisions in life that will end with a life of true happiness and love while still maintaining that strength and independence.

When a boy hits you DO NOT accept it as “he likes you." About 2 weeks ago my little sister had an incident at school. The teacher informed my parents that a boy in her class hit my sister in the head. Yes he HIT her. With my sister just reaching the age of 9 I thought I would have had this conversation sooner, but I thanked God that I had the opportunity to tell her early. “When a boy hits you, that DOES NOT, mean he likes you”. Too often we tell little girls and boys that when your classmates hit you or when someone hits you on the playground that means they “like you” or “want to play”. I made it clear to my sister that she is not to accept that notion. When boys and girls hit as children it only creates a culture of continuous hitting and violence for the future, whether we recognize it or not. Who knows if that young man or young woman will one day feel that hitting will always mean love or that “being mean” is the way to a person’s heart. It is not the way to go. Please if you know that your child is being hit or bullied at school or if your child is inflicting the hurt, make it stop. TODAY.

Your body is your sanctuary; don’t let anyone tell you it’s for anything else.I’ve read a few articles recently that talked about young ladies and the increasing number who are losing their virginities and having children at such a young age. After my parents gave birth to me at only 19 years old, I knew motherhood was not for me before at least 25, but it wasn’t until later that I realized sex and allowing people to touch my body at such a young age was not for me either. I am not one to preach and push abstinence off on people, but I will push respect for one’s own temple. My sister, your body is beautiful, precious and ages with time. No matter how developed you may become never allow a man or anyone else tell you when your body is ready for more. 

LOVE is not a word that is to be abused. Many people will tell you they love you, especially romantically. It is your job to accept that love and take it at face value or grow deeper in that love with a desire to learn more. I have heard the cliché words about love being kind and sweet and about it being lovely in its true form. I agree, but I also know love comes in many forms and it is up to us, and our spiritual connections to make love clear. Too many times we exert Agape love onto our friends, significant others and people who are undeserving but we must always keep in mind that Agape is the highest power of love that belongs to our relationship with God. When a person tells you they love you don’t always believe them the first time by doing things for them that you associate with love. Instead, find deep within yourself the love you are willing to accept and make it known that your love is too vast, too appreciated, too intimate, too extensive and far too real to be tampered with. Love wisely and make your love clear my sister.

Don’t settle: Don’t settle for a person that is only willing to love you to the end of the block. Don’t settle for an “I love you but….”. Don’t settle for pain. Don’t settle for careless pleasures. Don’t settle for what your friends tell you is alright. Don’t continuously settle and make exceptions for a man’s past and their father’s decisions. Don’t allow someone to tell you how to carry out your relationships. Don’t settle for minimal time spent. Don’t settle for lazy love. Don’t settle for infidelity. Don’t settle for their selfish desires. Don’t settle for anything less than you are WORTH. When the time comes recognize the difference between a boy and a man. Age does not determine this fact; maturity and respect for themselves and for YOU determine it all.

Independence does not mean you will be married at the age of 40, 50, or even 60. It doesn’t even mean you will never be married. Being career driven does not mean you will never be happy, sexually pleased or in love with the “right” person. Waiting for the right Boaz to come along means that your true blessing is on its way. Stay true to yourself and keep GRINDING my sister. You are loved by far too many to give in to someone who does not worship the ground you walk on. You want someone who ADORES you, not someone who you can put up with on your off days. Stay focused and your time will come my sister.

This letter is to all of my sisters and to myself, not just the one whom I share the blood that runs through my veins. My heart pumps with the life that is given to me by each and every one of you. I love all of my sisters. <3

-Brie Milan

For Women Seeking Other Magical Women:

My 8 Inspirations in Human Form

There was once a time when I thought “I had it all together” and that I did not need anyone else because I made it through on my own. I was sadly mistaken. There have been many people in my life that have been the influence and motivation for me to continue to walk this earth with dignity, prosperity, and grace. These 8 women have been the catalysts for change and inspiration in my life and everyone deserves to know what it’s like to be inspired by other human beings that truly care. If you do not have people like this in your life you must expand your horizons.

Toi A. Hill – The Crafty Conqueror

Mommy, Mom, Mother, the list could go on forever. Every name for a mother she embodies. Though we may not always agree, I can’t think of the last time in my adult life that I have walked out of the house without kissing, hugging or loving on my mother like never before. My greatest pride always came from my mother with her brilliant mind answering ‘Wheel of Fortune’ puzzles with just one letter on the board and though she thought she couldn’t, answering my questions about life with the grace and vernacular I’ve always wished I could emulate. Her beautiful mind can generate masterpieces I have never seen even the top image consultants of corporate companies create.  I admire her craft and her ability to work while not skipping a beat on caring for her children. I work so that I can be nearly as competent in my ability to care for one’s children as she is. Crafty Conquerors prepare you for real life. If you don’t have a creative bone in your body, they can definitely educate you.

Frances Hill – The Quiet Crusader

My grandmother is an advocate in one of the quietest forms. Her movements are stealth and swift and she gets things done even when she is sitting. Most people would say their grandmothers are invincible but I actually believe it. Seriously. She’s taken care of her family her entire adult life as soon as she even hit “adult” age. Most of us in modern day are living through our 20s and even 30s carefree and realistically without real worry. Whether she or anyone believes it or not, I have known my grandmother to be unapologetically frank, loveable, full of wisdom and the essence of caring. I kid you not; she has all of the answers. She is also the reason I never say ‘bye’ when ending phone calls but rather ‘I’ll see you later’, because saying ‘goodbye’ means you plan to not speak or see a person again. As I always say, she is the reason I even choose to work for the human rights of people and the reason I continue to fight these battles. Quiet Crusaders may not be so quiet after all.

Martha S. Jones – The Wonder Woman

Wisdom in true form comes from your modern day Wonder Woman. Dr. Jones is a professor by day and passionate historian, advocate and writer by night. Somehow she seems to be in a million places at once and I will never understand that. The only answer I have is that she is Wonder Woman herself, but not your known wearer of red, white and blue but rather a woman with unimaginable powers you may never actually see but can always read about. Her resilience is what kept me motivated throughout my time in undergrad and her wisdom and knowledge is what allowed me to truly unveil my passions. She makes it clear that many passions are not only possible but can be pursued as long as you truly believe in yourself. Powerful women are necessary because they do not crudely inflict it upon others, but rather use it for good and for change.

LaShonda Brenson – The Black Queen

I took a moment to google ‘historical black queens’. Did you do the same? If so, you have just looked at the epitome of LaShonda Brenson. Little does she know she was the first black woman pursuing a PhD I have ever met, and that was over 10 years ago. LaShonda was the last answer to the hope I had for my future just entering my undergraduate career 4 years ago. And LaShonda was literally one of the main reasons I could even finish my Bachelor’s degree. Through my days of crying with my face on the floor and the days I felt I had an inability to pray for myself, she pushed me through it all. Fighting her own adversity she somehow still pulled me through my own. Her ability to care, love and do for others is in the form of a grand crown that sits on top of her beautiful curly head. The Black Queen is what leads the kingdom beyond what any King could ever do. She is my example, and she is my motivation. Everyone needs a Black Queen and I have mine.

Ravon Alford – The Free Voice of Reason

In my more vulnerable form many years ago, I looked at people like Ravon as intimidating. She always had a smile on her face, was surrounded by people, and just seemed so care free. It was not until college that I recognized she was my free spirited voice of reason. Though Ravon is quite conservative, her free spirit in life has allowed me to live through her. She has been all over the world, swam with dolphins, basically flew through the sky, and the list goes on. But beyond her ability to live for self she provides the voice to me when I have indeed silenced my own. When I refuse to listen to that voice telling me to stop what I’m doing, she decides to assert hers instead. Most people would think of this as overbearing but I think of it as my big sister instilling wisdom in me that not many have the ability to hear even those at 50 years old. Everyone needs a voice of reason within them selves but until you find it you need a Ravon.

Shennice Gossett – The Light

My faith has always been something that I on my own have tested in some of the most intense to mildest forms. And in those days when I have felt that my faith could no longer be real (yes I had those days), sister friends like Shennice kept me motivated. There have literally been times where my actions were completely out of my character and the next day, or week; I would receive a call from Shennice. Sometimes she knew what I had done and other times her calls would just make me feel so convicted that I knew I had done wrong. People need more friends like Shennice who work in God’s image in order to keep you on track. You need more lights to save you from hitting your knee on the edge of that sharp corner and to keep you from slipping and bumping your head. Light directs your path.

Phylicia Allen – The Tamed Lioness

You ever felt like you had a fire inside of you that you just wanted to release but just didn’t know how? Well Phylicia recognized that fire and that drive inside of me a long time ago, before I even realized it myself. She never knew this, but she once stared at me and smiled, and proceeded to call me beautiful. This was a few years ago, but at that time in my life I had not been affirmed in that way. And for some reason I always knew she wasn’t referring to my looks. My conversations with Phylicia each time we talk somehow revolves back to internal beauty and the ability to exert that into our everyday lives. Little does she know her internal beauty has always been apparent to me. That same fire she recognizes in me is very well larger within herself. She is that sister friend that is like a tamed lioness, reserved in modern form but mighty in her approach. Everyone deserves to have the perspective of someone like her. I’m blessed to have her as a sister in Christ, life and profession.

Does Hair Make the Woman?

(Vlog #1)

Do my curves offend you?... 

I used to care a lot about what people thought about my body. Then I had to learn, validation does not come from man. And my body, features, assets and entities that make me phenomenally me are not target practice for the demeaning and overly sexual darts in the form of commentary that flies out of the mouth of man. People have always had something to say about my body. Whether it be the men from my preteen years that didn’t care about their disrespectful comments even after me stating I was 12, or the men from my teen years that commented on my long hair saying it “gives them something nice to pull on”. Imagine being 15 and knowing little about sex, but having grown men blatantly tell you on the street the things they want to do to you. Age 12 is when I grew to resent my body most and at age 22 I am officially taking the rights back for my body, image and self-respect.

Throughout the last couple of years or so many people have commented on the way I choose to dress. Yes, disrespectful men and women who harass me on the street are not the only people who choose to make comments about my body. I most commonly wear many articles of clothing that accentuate my curves and sometimes show my assets a little more than others. My question then becomes do my curves offend you? For the last 3 years I have grown to embrace my body and the curves that I have been given since birth. But…things have not always been that way. It was not until recently that I stopped being in denial and really came to realize that I used to resent my body and I know the reasons why.  

In high school and even middle school there were always those people that would make girls like myself feel bad about wearing skintight jeans and tight tops, but there were always men who made me feel even worse. By age 13 I weighed over 215 pounds with a BMI well over two average preteens put together.  I used to convince myself I got that carried away because I loved food…But that was a lie. Age 12 is when I began eating and eating…hoping it would make me stay “fat”. I thought if I got big enough men would stop talking to me, keeping me up at night with their voices packed into my head. By age 14 I resented my body.  But by the end of that year I began to realize that it didn’t matter how much I thought I was taking control of the situation I was only hurting myself. I was also hurting others by thinking that a larger frame meant unattractiveness. By the end of that same year I made it a goal to lose that resentment weight, and get to a place of comfort and health for myself. After losing 60 pounds by sophomore year of high school I took back my respectability. I had to learn that some people are just focused on the wrong things while making young girls feel uncomfortable based on their own inappropriate desires. I also had to learn that those same desires was dependent upon their own preferences and not how I make myself look.  

I have gone through A LOT as a curvaceous woman and I now resent NONE of it. I love everything about myself no matter how much people try to bring me down. I stand to uplift every woman who chooses to embrace their bodies and every young girl who knows they are bigger than the comments thrown at them as they walk up the street, to their car, around the mall and anywhere throughout life. If my curves offend you I am here to inform you that I am not sorry but I do hope you come to realize your offense is in the form of judgment that is not welcome here. My name is Brie Milan Starks and I love my body no matter what. How do you feel?

5 reasons why it is important to ask people how they REALLY are.

When we see someone walking across campus or even run into someone we know out and about, we often spit out the words, “Hi! How are you?” The other person may then say “I’m good, how are you?” and you reply, “I’m good, well, cant complain, getting through, I’m excellent”, and the list goes on and on with possible feelings. But does anyone ever ask you, “How are you…REALLY”? And genuinely look into your eyes to wait for the reply? Well, there is an importance to doing that and I have 5 reasons why.

#5 You could be the reason their day turns around

Do you ever just wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Have you walked down the street, put your shades on, popped your headphones in and just wanted to be invisible for a day? Well many of us have. We all have bad days but in those bad days even though we may not want to be around other people, there could be that one person who could turn your day around for the better. Though asking someone how they really are could turn into a venting session, it could also just be the time for someone to find ways to express themselves by actually finding words to describe how they are feeling. You could have your day turned around by that one person that actually cares how your really are today, and if you are the person asking, you can be the reason that person’s day was changed for the better.

#4 You could be just the person they have needed to talk to

When you ask someone how they may be doing and genuinely stay for the answer, sometimes you may find out that they are going through the same thing as you! If two people just walk by and give generic greetings and ask generic questions to not actually hear the reply, then how could they find out if that person could actually help them?

#3 It is simply a way to meet new people!

You don’t have to think too deeply about this. You also don’t have to walk up to random people and ask them how they are doing. When you are in those groups in class or playing an ice breaker at a work meeting, new team meeting or student org event just ask the person next to you how they are doing. You don’t even have to poke at them and ask them to expand. Sometimes asking and waiting to hear the answer and saying something meaningful back can make that person remember you.

#2 It just creates an atmosphere of positivity

We should always go about things and walk in our stride intentionally. It is not okay to go around being a pseudo saint or dishonest in our approach. If we say we bring positive energy or claim to be a nice person, then act on it everyday. If you don’t claim these things, either way you should always want to find positivity in your life and be intentional. People should want to be around you and remember that they should be prepared to tell you how they are doing when you see them.

#1 That person may be battling with something

My freshman year of college was one of the toughest times of my life that I had to go through alone. But here is the problem. I THOUGHT I was alone and that no one needed to know that I was battling with depression, stress, anxiety, and fear of the ability to keep going. I was constantly worried about my family and whether or not my brothers and sisters were getting by without me. I felt defeated before I even started college completely. By the end of the first semester I had over 5 doctor’s visits and had 2 seizures by the end of my freshman year. Yes I did say seizures. My doctors literally told me that they didn’t know the cause of them, but they did sense that not enough oxygen was getting to my brain. I had no medical history of any conditions and no family history of any of the symptoms I had all in the course of a year.

I would literally walk by people every day, with an acne consumed face and bags so heavy under my eyes that I swear I looked like a cartoon character. That entire year I wanted to feel alone, but if it wasn’t for my next door neighbor, friend, and sister LaShonda constantly knocking on my door and even just entering when I didn’t answer, I don’t know where I would be. Times like that I never realized how important it is to ask someone HOW THEY REALLY ARE!? We walk up and down the street, across campus, throughout the store and run into people we know or even our dearest friends, but all we do is give generic greetings and false smiles when we literally may have the weight of the world on our shoulders. That wasn’t the only time I went through something life altering and it may not be the last for any of us, but the important thing is to always ask people you care about and even sometimes people we don’t completely know that well, HOW ARE YOU….Really?

It all started when...

I was around 11 and I specifically remember seeing my grandmother in so much distress. It was rare that I had ever seen her in such a state. My grandmother is resilient and had the ability to do anything in my eyes at that time, so who could put her in such a disposition?  To this day I still don't know why she knew I would understand the circumstances or even knew a way to explain the situation, but that day forward, I was convinced I wanted to do civil and human rights work. It sounds dramatic but its REAL. 

Since I was quite small, apparently my aunt was drawn to picking on me. It was quite comical, but only because I knew she had the ability to mold her own personality even when at birth she was deemed severely mentally disabled. With her disability she has no ability to speak or comprehend the everyday things the average person may encounter. So, when my grandma made it known that the issue at hand was an obvious lack in empathy from the government, you could imagine my confusion at age 13. That day as she sat between her infamous Chinese style buffet and dining table and the day I saw my grandmother in an unfamiliar mood was the first day I recognized injustice at play.

Government issued documents made out to my aunt required a signature of my aunt. This created obstacles that I couldn't have imagined working through. To ask her to sign her own paperwork would be similar to asking a 6 month old child to sign the dotted line. This is my loved one who has an inability to care for herself let alone give a signature for her own assistance. My grandmother is her caregiver and with the circumstances should have had all rights to take on all responsibilities for her, government, official, unofficial, etc. 

At the time I still may not have understood the stress or what any of it meant entirely, but....At that moment all I said was..."Grandma I wish I could help you"...With that, she replied..."Be a lawyer like you said you wanted baby and you can help me". From that day forward I aspired to become a civil rights attorney, even though at the time I knew nothing about that form of public interest work. Overtime my ability to understand the disabled population as well as the needs of my own community and the like, has slowly unfolded after this encounter at 11.

To some that could be such a small story, but to me it was huge. I could have the ability to make the interactions with people with disabilities and the government or, people mistreating that population, more efficient and just. She may not ever know how much that small conversation influenced me and my dream for almost 10 years now. And I'm still running after it... 

This story like many others, will be unfolded in my book I will be working on over the years. If you want to hear more about my aspirations to work with homeless women and children continue to stay tuned...Until next time <3