Even before 2021 ended I was already quoting the year 2022. I don’t know why but I was ready and I feel like me and she have some sort of understanding that this year is just filled with greatness. To be fair the last two years – whilst extremely painful due to the pandemic – have been good to me. My business grew, I got to spend more time with my family than I typically would and despite being an agent where networking is somewhat critical to what I do, I really like staying at home.
I’ve already accept that I don’t fit into the (stereo)typical mould for the type of work I do. My name is not Poppy or Holly or the like. I’m not white, blonde, that young any more and I do not have the stamina to spend all night out at parties until the early hours of the morning. I also don’t work for a household named brand though I’m building one *wink*.
I’m a richly, abundantly melanated Black African woman with two kids who’s never worked for a sexy, large scale corporate and have had to graft in a different way into industry, still doing so. I love being at home – compounded further by Corona – and unless we’re talking business, I take a while to thaw on a personal level. I love one to ones, still learning to love one to many.
So to actually see myself on the cover of the lifestyle section of a national newspaper was a massive (and pleasant) shock. As I type this it becomes an even bigger deal to me because of something I always question about the British PR/Comms/Talent industry: how often are you likely to see a Black woman in our industry on the cover of anything in those spaces? Especially a dark skinned one.
And it’s not like women that look like me and do similar work don’t exist. We are out here in abundance. Visible in certain pockets but never quite hitting the heights of our American counterparts like Bozoma St John who cultivate international reach.
It would be also totally unfair not to acknowledge the February 2020 edition of Campaign which featured heavyweight juggernaughts like Vanessa Kingori and Karen Blackett. Listen, the way I rushed to buy that magazine, didn’t blink at the massive £17.50 price tag on the front and refuse to throw it out is a testament to the fact that it’s not just our children that need to see themselves represented. Even us at our big age, two years shy of 40 need it too.
So to essentially be endorsed by the biggest Black British newspaper this country has ever had in this way? I can never take that for granted. It’s not a vanity piece. It’s a statement. It is a calling card. It is a rally cry to sleep on me if you dare. Jeez, it’s a rallying cry to me not to sleep on myself. And one of the most edifying parts of this is a Black man led this (Thank you, Joel) – challenging that narrative that Black men don’t support their women – but I’ll leave that can slightly ajar rather than fling it wide open.
Seeing the cover was like the Universe saying “You! We own 2022. Get moving. Now!” as when you work behind the scenes sometimes acknowledgement comes fleetingly. And I’ve read all the books and the memes on Instagram that tell you that outside validation is not the one. I hear that. But this? This cover? Nah the world needs to let me have this. And I own it (almost without cringing) unapologetically.
