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ARCHIVED - NOVEMBER 4TH, 2024

This post is to notify all members that we will be archiving Baddie Brigade's Social Club on Tumblr and will be updating all blog, newsletter, and media-related items to our Substack: UNSRS Mag

All past posts up until this date will be archived here. Thank you for your support and...to new beginnings.

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The Red Shoes (Michael Sporn, 1990)

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And then... by Jamice Miller

Jamice Miller is a Black woman from Yonkers, New York. Always with her nose in a book and her head in a dream, she has become a multi-disciplinary artist and founder of Baddie Brigade Social Club. Read her latest writing piece "And then..." below.

Sometimes a feeling is just that: a feeling.

A fleeting feeling that drags you under and makes you hold your breath. Till your lungs burn, flailing and thrashing.

And when you finally get your legs on land, you gag, you gasp.

What is happening, is change.

There's not much else to add; but telling you that days go by and whip past you. stinging your cheeks like a cold New York January. Or tickle you. Brushing your thighs like a lazy New York September. Either way, you're bothered.

I always wondered, not if I was meant to love, but if I was meant for love back. After I tap love on the shoulder, would she turn toward me, smile bubbling over with joy. Or would her face contort to a scowl, "you again?"

Sometimes a feeling is just that: a feeling.

Feelings can hurt, you know. They can tear, they can strain.

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Serial Mom: A Visual Review

Director: John Waters

Rating: ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

Title Page: Basic but effective

Misty, listen to mother!

Same.

Who do you know serving hair like this while killing someone with a leg of lamb????

Me, at any given moment.

Birdie and Chip! Unserious! The peace sign, pls.

Great fit.

Stunning!

SERVE!

Overall, fun, campy movie! Adding to my horror movie rewatch in October because I don't do SCARY movies.

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Sisters: 1976 by Essence Moore

Essence Moore is a talented Black author from New York, celebrated for her witty turn of phrase, exceptional use of imagery, and impeccable pacing. Her stories captivate readers with their vibrant descriptions and engaging narratives, reflecting the rich themes of sisterhood and woman hood.

“Lydia Green!”

The worst thing about these downtown buildings (besides the bureaucracy) is the temperature. It’s always so damn cold! I brought my good sweater and wore my dungarees but the air conditioning is still freezing me out. Hopefully this doesn’t take up the whole day.

“Last call for exam room 3: Lydia Green!” the portly woman shouted into the corridor. 

Oh shit! That’s me! 

She jumped up and straightened the name sticker on her chest. Moving quickly down the hallway, she weaved between office workers whose favorite pass time seemed to be milking the clock. The linoleum floors created an echo of footsteps that caught the shouting woman’s eye and ear. As she looked Ms. Green from toe to head, she noticed the platform shoes, hip hugging dungarees and a stylish wrap blouse. She was of average height with warm, dark skin and a small afro. It was obvious to all present that Ms. Green was wasting everyone’s time. There was no way she would pass this test. 

“Good Afternoon ma’am! I’m Lydia Green. I’m here for the test.” She extended her hand. 

The woman turned in her burgundy heels and waved over her shoulder for Lydia to follow. The room had less of a chill than the corridor and was set up like a secondary school room. There were about 20 desks and seven pupils scattered across them. They sat silently with materials in front of them. The air was thick with nerves. The suddenly silent guide directed Lydia to an empty desk with her testing materials waiting. “You will have a total of 3 hours to complete this exam. There will be no intermissions so if you must use the facilities, please do so now.” Lydia shook her head to give the silent assassin a dose of her own medicine. “Good. Your time begins now. I will be back at the halfway mark to remind you of the time. Best of luck.” 

As the woman shuffled away, Lydia noticed a severe run in her stockings. “What a sad woman.” She mumbled as she picked up her pencil. The test was basic high school arithmetic and reading comprehension. Most of the things she had to stay sharp in for her job at the bank. Just as she expected, this would be a breeze. She looked down at the name tag and giggled. There would definitely be enough time left over for her to head uptown and pick up her daughter, Jeanie, a bit earlier than usual. That day, Lydia set the record for completion of the New York Telephone Company employment aptitude test. She left the 41st floor and never saw the woman with the runs in her tights again. Lydia would go on to work at the company for nearly 36 years. 

When she arrived uptown, she was too tired to fish her house key from her purse. She gave the door a few light knocks and it burst open aggressively. “HOW WAS IT?! DID YOU PASS?! DID THEY CATCH YOU?” 

“Well goddamn! Can I get a water first? It’s hot as hell out there!” She moved past her sister, Lydia, who was holding baby Jeanie in her arms. As the toddler shrieked and lunged towards her mother, Geraldine gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Hey baby! Mama is back! I had to go take a test for your auntie Lyd. I was surrounded by crackas alllllllll day babygirl!” She laughed as she slammed the name tag on the counter and turned on the tap. There was what appeared to be a clean glass on the counter. She slid it under the faucet gracefully and drank generously. 

“It was fun being someone else for the day. Yes, I passed- barely. No, they didn’t catch the Lydia Green impersonator. Gimmie my baby, please.” Geraldine motioned for the child who had now resorted to squirms in an attempt to break free. As she sipped for her glass, their eyes met over the rim. 

“It was hard wasn’t it?! I can’t believe you passed it on your first try. I thought it would take you twice at least!” the real Lydia said as she motioned for her younger sister to join her on the loveseat. Although what they had done was unethical and possibly illegal, the only thing Geraldine felt guilty about was lying to her sister. It was either that or make her feel like a total dunce. 

Lydia always struggled academically. It seemed as if she never blossomed into a talent or even had a dream. Most people who you asked would say she had a knack for childrearing but being the second child in the family, Geraldine knew better. She could see the contempt in Lydia’s eyes for the little ones from day one. While her life revolved around the obligations of motherhood and sisterhood, Lydia’s soul was never happy or even content. She needed a win and failing the NYtel test so many times was beginning to take a toll on her spirit. She imagined how much it pained her older sister to ask her for a favor so big. The only right answer was yes.

Later that night, when the street lights came on, the littles returned home to a set table and a hot meal. Baked chicken, white rice and corn from the can. The meal was not luxurious but it was enough to feed the 6 siblings, their mother and 3 grand babies. As baby Jeanie smeared rice across her face, the family caught up. Their youngest brother, Calvin, asked “What’s up with the test? Did ya’ll pull it off?”

“Yeah. We did.” Lydia said through tight lips. Calvin was a known prankster and smart aleck notorious for luring you into what seemed to be a sincere conversation only to attack with sly remarks. She stop trusting him long ago. 

“So Jerry, you passed!?” Calvin said with his new, pubescent voice. 

“Yeah… well Lydia passed.” She winked to him as she wiped food from Jeanie’s hands. Wanting to keep things brief, she reached behind her chair to the radio and turned it up an octave.

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine by Lou Rawls played. There were a few snaps and claps around the table. Mother swayed in her seat. She pointed to each of her children as she sang the lyrics. 

You’re gonna miss my lovin’

You’re gonna miss my lovin’

The grandchildren giggled as they struggled to find their groove.

“But wait, wait, wait…” Calvin spoke over the music. “You don’t feel… dumb? Your little sister went and passed a test that you couldn’t get in what 5 or 6 goes? You think you can do the job? I just-”

“CUT YOUR SHIT NOW CALVIN!” Lydia slammed her hand on the table. 

Everyone save for baby Jeanie was stiff as a board.

“I’m just sayin-” Calvin tried to instill some bass in his squeaky voice. 

“WHAT DID I SAY NIGGA!” She boomed.

Calvin eyed his mother who was still tapping her house shoe to the beat of and depositing a spoonful of corn into her mouth. Her work days as a housekeeper were filled with other people’s unruly children. She simply refused to indulge her own- for free at that. 

“I want you all to know that I’m not stupid. I know how you see me. You just think I’m good for watching your kids and washing your clothes. That’s not true. I used to want to be in the movies.”

Evan, one of the youngest brothers, covered his mouth to shield a giggle. Bonita, the youngest sister, smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t laugh at her. They got big ladies in the movies, too!” She whispered matter of factly. 

“Are you okay Ma?” Lydia’s daughter touched her hand.

“Oh, I’m fine baby girl, don’t worry about me.” She said as she brushed away tears from her freckled cheeks. 

Getting up from the table that evening was the hardest thing Lydia would have to do in her life. She sat for hours staring at the abandoned plates. Typically, she would remove them without complaint and spend just as much time cleaning as she did preparing the meal. Tonight was different. Every night following needed to be different. 

“You all have some nerve to disrespect me! I’m the one who’s been here taking care of you! When you got VD you came to me! When you got pregnant, you ask me to watch the baby. Maybe I coulda been something if you all didn’t dump your shit on me! Maybe I could be reading books and traveling the world. Fuck all of you! I’m done!” Lydia whispered to herself. 

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June 4, 1924 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

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“𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.”

Baddie Brigade Social Club returns this weekend. 💚

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Ascension in April.  Alignment in April. Awakening in April. Acceptance in April. Abundance in April Artistry in April.

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'Afro Punk' — featuring Kelis for the April 2000 issue of Muzik Magazine. Photography by Liam Duke, Styling by Cynthia Lawrence-John and Words by Andy Crysell.

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Megan’s Instagram Update (March 11, 2024)

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Adele Fátima, 70s Brazilian Pinup & “Queen of the Drumbeat”

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