Adiba Nelson

Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get so sassy right now.

I applaud you for being here. I applaud you for giving life the five fingers of death and deciding to show up for whatever the day brings — every day.

Want to go on a carbs and wine tour of Italy? Break out the leggings and go for it. This time is yours.

Then we had that talk that made my eye twitch: the budget talk.

A: No one is perfect, B: Perceived perfection is a LIE, and C: THEY’RE CHILDREN FOR FUCK SAKE!

He opened his mouth and time stood still. My pulse quickened. My heart raced. My eyes filled with tears. And I. WAS. PROUD.

In my mind, I was Beyoncé, and she was Becky. She was the one he needed to run back to. She was the one who could have his ass, because I was leaving and I wasn’t sorry about it.
Then Lemonade came out and the light bulb came on.

If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say I am a diva because I had a mom who demanded nothing but the very best from me, from how I sat in a chair, to how I entered a room, to what grades I brought home. She demanded the best from me — and now, finally, I am at a point where I demand the very best from myself, and those I surround myself with.

I would break girl code. And if you love me, I hope you would do it for me too.

If 93% of the Academy is White, but as of 2014, only 62% of Americans were White, and art is supposed to imitate life...