In October 1863, President Abraham Lincoln signed a proclamation to officially celebrate the holiday, months after signing the Emancipation Proclamation earlier that same year. Thanksgiving was usually a time when the enslaved planned escapes, due to the ending of crop season. With the new law, it transformed into a time where newly freed Blacks could actually come together.

In the Black community, Thanksgiving began in the church. Black pastors preached about struggles, hopes, and fears. These sermons usually denounced the institution of slavery and carried the belief that a slave-free America would one day be a reality.

For many of us, Thanksgiving means spending time traveling to visit family and friends. Growing up, Thanksgiving was one of my favorite holidays, simply because my whole family was together. The turkey, dressing, collard greens, sweet potatoes, and Nana’s cherry cobbler were what we all looked forward to.

But let’s be clear: The images of Pilgrims, in big hats, large belt buckles, and heavy black shoes, breaking bread with Indigenous American presents a broken view of the founding of this country. The local Indians taught the Pilgrims how to plant and hunt; a tenuous peace seemed possible, until things took a horrendous turn. The American colonies expanded; Indigenous people were slaughtered for their land and driven thousands of miles from their home. The truth is that the watered-down version in the history books masks the violence and oppression, and it manages to both legitimize and whitewash our country’s terrible actions against Indigenous people.

During the peak of the civil rights movement in 1964 speech, Malcolm X delivered a speech with a famous line: “We didn’t land on Plymouth Rock. The rock landed on us.”

This line has withstood the test of time because it exposes the long history of injustice towards Black people and marginalized communities that predates the writing of America’s Constitution. Initially, the line drew laughter and applause from the audience, but sometimes it takes dark wit and irony to shed light on the truth of a situation. It makes us stop and think about what is actually going on.

In 2020, the toll of COVID-19 and the struggle over racial inequity made it a perfect time to reevaluate the Thanksgiving holiday for many Indigenous Americans. Along with teachers and professors, they rethought the holiday that has marginalized the United States’ violence and cruelty against Native Americans, with names like “Takesgiving” and “The Thanksgiving Massacre.”

On the National Day of Mourning, Native Americans gather in Plymouth, Massachusetts, for a day of remembrance for the millions of Indigenous people who were killed by European colonists. Prayers and speeches take place along with beating drums before participants march through the Plymouth Historic District.

Thanksgiving is complicated. The special place that Thanksgiving holds with Black people and religious tradition is full of the same contradictions of pain and joy. For Black people, celebrating Thanksgiving is similar to celebrating Independence Day — they are both rooted in oppression but we have found ways to infuse our own spirit into it. Even religious holidays at the center of Black culture carry the complex past of both salvation and enslavement. The fact that we celebrate and participate in so many traditions that are burdened with these contradictions is a central part of our complicated story.

I think about my nieces, who are five and seven years old, and what they are learning (and not learning) in today’s history books at school. I think about how necessary it is for them to know the truth about their history, even if it’s difficult and complicated. Our children deserve to know the history behind why we do the things we do. More importantly, we have to make a concerted effort to know the truth so we can teach them. It’s really a matter of building our own family traditions that will pass down through generations, essentially reframing the narrative.

So, here we are at another Thanksgiving. We know that scraps became soul food; spirituals born of out of pain and struggle became jazz, gospel, and blues. Religious holidays became reasons to escape from the hardships of slavery, then from Jim Crow. We know how to survive because we know where our help comes from.

Perhaps one day we’ll come to terms with the shared history of holiday contradiction and complicated feelings with many of the practices that we know as American. But until then, the secret to Nana’s cherry cobbler? Now that’s rebellion. You can’t help but go back for more.

The post Thanksgiving Is Complicated: Reimagining How We Celebrate appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Throughout U.S. history, these two groups have shared significant struggles, from the fight against enslavement and colonialism to the ongoing battle for justice and recognition. By reflecting on their intertwined histories, we can better understand the resilience that has shaped both communities.

The histories of Native Americans and Black Americans have shared experiences of displacement, oppression, and resistance. Although often viewed separately in mainstream narratives, their connections date back centuries and reflect a common struggle in the face of colonialism and systemic racism.

The first encounters between Native Americans and Black Americans in North America occurred in the early 17th century, as the transatlantic slave trade brought millions of Africans to the Americas. While some Black people were enslaved, others, particularly those who escaped, sought refuge with Indigenous nations. These runaways, often referred to as maroons, found support and solidarity in Native American communities, where they were sometimes accepted and integrated into the societies of various tribes.

In the southeastern United States, the Creek, Seminole, and Cherokee nations formed alliances with runaway enslaved people, offering them protection in exchange for military support and cooperation in trade. Black people often intermarried with Native people, adopting their customs, languages, and social structures. Over time, many of them and their descendants became part of a new, cultural identity: Black Indians.

The Seminole Nation in Florida, in particular, is a notable example of this historical alliance. The Seminoles became one of the few Native American nations to actively resist removal during the 1830s, when the U.S. government began forcibly relocating Native peoples to the West. Black Seminoles fought alongside Native Seminoles in the Second Seminole War (1835–1842), creating a long-standing bond between the two communities.

After the Civil War, the relationship between Native Americans and Black Americans continued to evolve. The Reconstruction period brought a new sense of hope for Black Americans, but it also marked a time of turmoil for Native communities, as they faced pressure from the U.S. government to surrender their land and rights.

Many Black Americans, largely from the South, continued to forge ties with Native nations. In the post-emancipation era, former enslaved people sometimes found work and shelter in Native communities, particularly those that had adopted Black refugees.

The presence of Black people in Native nations was not always accepted. In some cases, Native groups wanted to maintain their racial and cultural purity and distanced themselves from Black people. This was evident after the Civil War when certain tribes were pressured by the U.S. government to sign treaties that would reduce their sovereignty and force them to accept Black citizenship within their borders.

The Cherokee, Chickasaw, Choctaw, and Creek nations, known collectively as the “Five Civilized Tribes,” signed treaties with the U.S. government that recognized the right of freed Black people to live within their territories, but only under certain conditions. Many were descendants of Black enslaved people who had been owned by Native Americans prior to the Civil War. Over time, these freedmen often found themselves marginalized within Native communities.

This time of year, it always widens my eyes even more to the fact that Thanksgiving is deeply complicated. Traditionally, Thanksgiving is celebrated as a time of harvest and gratitude, symbolized by the story of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people coming together in 1621. However, for Native Americans, this narrative severely glosses over the centuries of violence and colonization, as Europeans stole Indigenous lands and decimated Native populations.

For Black people, Thanksgiving also carries a painful history. While it is not directly tied to the experiences of slavery, the holiday falls within a broader context of systemic racism and oppression. For enslaved Black people and their descendants, the story of Thanksgiving contrasts with the lived reality of exploitation and dehumanization on plantations.

The histories of Native Americans and Black Americans are linked, as both communities have been subjected to systemic injustice and marginalization since the arrival of European colonizers. For Native Americans, this time of year symbolizes a reminder of the beginning of the end of their way of life. For Black Americans, it can serve as a reminder of the broader struggles for freedom and equality that persist today.

While the relationship between Native Americans and Black Americans has been complex, both groups have shared experiences of segregation, and most importantly, cultural erasure. Both have been subjected to the brutal realities of American slavery. These similar histories of trauma have created deep-rooted empathy that makes us stronger.

The history between Native Americans and Black Americans is one of conflict but also cooperation. It is shaped by colonization, slavery, and racism. As both groups continue to assert their rights and demand recognition, our shared history provides a powerful foundation for collaboration and mutual understanding in the ongoing fight for reparative justice.

The post Celebrating Native American Heritage Month: Exploring the Ties Between Native Americans and Black Americans appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

What’s Behind This Exodus?

This departure didn’t happen in isolation. It’s the result of intersecting pressures — inflation, student debt, program cuts, and underrepresentation in high-growth sectors like technology. Compounding the issue is the erosion of professional networks and mentorship opportunities that once served as vital lifelines for Black women navigating the workplace.

According to LinkedIn’s Meg Garlinghouse, 70% of professionals are hired through existing connections, yet many Black women continue to face “network gaps.” The widespread dismantling of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs across industries has only deepened these divides, cutting off access to mentorship, sponsorship, and advancement. Meanwhile, the rise of AI-driven hiring has further narrowed pathways to opportunity.

The Cost of Losing Black Women in the Workforce

The backlash against DEI initiatives has sparked a troubling rollback of the very policies that helped Black women gain ground in historically exclusionary environments. Under the current administration, DEI positions were among the first eliminated across federal agencies affecting over 12% of the Black female workforce.

In the private sector, inclusive hiring and mentorship initiatives — often deemed “DEI-adjacent” — have been quietly scaled back or dissolved. Job postings for DEI roles dropped 43% from 2022 to 2024, and many employee resource groups (ERGs) have shuttered, leaving Black workers without crucial support systems. These reversals come at a moment when connection, sponsorship, and advocacy are needed most.

The impact extends far beyond the individual. From February to June 2025, the labor force participation rate for Black women fell 1.8 percentage points, resulting in an estimated $37.2 billion loss to the U.S. GDP. The sharpest decline came in February, when 266,000 Black women left the labor force in a single month.

Why Mentorship Matters More Than Ever

Mentorship remains one of the most powerful tools for professional advancement. For Black women, having a mentor can expand networks, boost confidence, and provide critical guidance for navigating racial and gender bias at work.

For companies, mentorship pays dividends too — reducing turnover, strengthening culture, and preserving institutional knowledge. When mentors pass down experience and leadership values, they help cultivate stronger, more resilient organizations.

Reclaiming Support and Building Back

If you’re a Black woman facing job loss or feeling overlooked in a post-DEI workplace, you’re not alone. There are organizations committed to helping you rebuild and thrive:

• Black Career Women’s Network (BCWN): Provides culturally informed coaching, leadership training, and strategic career development.
• The Sadie Collective: Supports Black women and nonbinary professionals in economics, finance, data, and public policy, fostering mentorship and representation.

Equally important is reconnecting with your personal network former coworkers, college friends, and Black women business owners in your community. These relationships can spark new opportunities and restore confidence. Inspiration can also come from the stories of Black women leaders who’ve paved the way.

There’s immense wisdom within our own communities. To rebuild, we must lean on each other, invest in mentorship, and make sure Black women reclaim and redefine their rightful place in the workforce.

The post The Great Exodus: Why Black Women Are Leaving the Workforce appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

With the critical and box office success of Get Out, A Quiet Place, and Hereditary, as well as the ongoing success of shows such as The Walking Dead and its offshoots, horror has been making its way from the shadows into the mainstream gaze. The Purge franchise — known for its brutal films and social commentary — even has a 10-part miniseries made for network television on USA Network. Horror narratives are having a pop-culture moment for sure. But why? Why are more and more people drawn to such dark visions and on-screen violence? Why do those of us lifelong fans of horror stories keep coming back for more? Is there a “pleasure” in horror?  

For me, certain kinds of horror movies serve a therapeutic function to help me deal with trauma. From the safety of my home or home library, I watch these movies and descend into someone else’s worst day. Through their journey, I go on my own all the while knowing I am safe and protected. The films that are most effective for my self-therapy tend to be trauma-of-the-home films. These stories feature someone who needs to return to the scene of a childhood trauma or loss, and how they cope with that dark history. Favorites like Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs, Flowers in the Attic, and the 1990 IT miniseries have been some of my biggest collaborators on this road to healing.

Because I had a nomadic upbringing around the world, it’s not possible to return to any of my original sites of trauma. These trauma-of-the-home narratives give me an opportunity to join others as they return to houses and places haunted in different ways, and confront my own demons along with them. I’m also a rare female fan of the rape-revenge genre. The more feminist installments of these films like Revenge and M.F.A. have helped me process and move beyond terrible events. Horror films have been indispensable for maintaining my mental health.

Writer and professor Kate Durbin also uses certain kinds of horror movies in this unusual way to help confront and heal past trauma from the safety of her own home. For Durbin as well, the “pleasure” in watching horror movies is in direct correlation to how it helps confront and heal past trauma.

“I find stories of hauntings and possession films to be up there at the top for me. Trauma possesses and haunts us; we may try and escape it but it never fully goes away. It leaves traces in us and in the environment,” Durbin says. “I like films like The VVitch and Jennifer’s Body, films that deal with the trauma of being in a woman’s body in a misogynistic world. I like that the women in these films turn into monstrous demons/witches both as a result of their trauma and in defiance of it.”

Durbin first discovered this strange healing power of horror when she began developing college courses on the genre 10 years ago. She tells me, “I realized I found horror therapeutic sometime in the early years of teaching it. I feel horror is a safe space in which to process trauma (at least for me, I know a lot of people find it the opposite). And I’m talking about collective, cultural trauma as well as my own personal trauma.”

For Graveyard Shift Sisters founder and lifelong horror fan Ashlee Blackwell, one of the pleasures gleaned from horror involves centering the faces and voices of Black and other POC. Both on and offscreen, these faces are often hideously marginalized in horror movies and the broader horror production industry. In particular, Black women in horror tend to get the brunt of the worst treatment and focusing on their experiences suddenly becomes an act of social and political subversion.

In an interview with Remedial Horror Blackwell writes, “I spent my entire life feeling like the only Black woman who had a deep interest in horror, and that only doubled my frustration because I didn’t want to believe such an irrational musing.” In fact, it was Blackwell’s series on Black Girl Horror Nerds in October 2014 right here on BGN that helped lead to Graveyard Shift Sisters.  

Beyond this important de-marginalizing aspect of her work, Blackwell’s enjoyment of the genre is also deeply personal. The worlds created by horror storytellers as well as relatable characters to empathize with — people who remind you of friends or those you love in terrible situations — draws her back into the genre again and again. Blackwell tells me, “Regular, complex people in these extreme circumstances who you mourn for and cheer on to survive is an important element of the human condition. That instinct to survive is probably our most primal, and the best filmmakers have the unique ability to make us believe in the supernatural, dystopia, etc. and pull us in with a reflection of ourselves.”

For Dread Media founder Desmond Reddick, part of the pleasure of horror is the fan community. It builds around the genre as well as being able to promote and discuss indie creators and their projects in the industry. On an individual level, Reddick also sees horror films’ endings as giving a virtual middle-finger to happy Hollywood finishes. Doing so is like taking pleasure in the dismantling of the “all’s well that ends well” notion, which is rarely true in real life.

Reddick says, “It’s also inspiring to see someone put into harrowing circumstances and coming out the other end stronger. And there’s something profoundly comforting in an unhappy ending as well. The pure gall to do it says, ‘F*ck Hollywood’”

Reddick also sees lifelong horror fans as a special breed of pop culture consumers. He tells me, “Monster Kids are different, I think. We look at the world in a different way. We can see something beautiful in a film or book that ends horribly and know that life is often exactly that.” I agree that there is great comfort and pleasure in being able to examine a situation in a movie and know that it would play out similarly in real life. That can be the scariest thing about horror. And also the most meaningful, and pleasurable part.

When it comes to theories of horror, Durbin’s and my method of horror movies as self-therapy corresponds with Julia Kristeva’s notion of “the abject.” This involves the often-painful and uncomfortable exploration of the physical, social, cultural, and psychosocial spaces where a rupture has occurred. We find solace in those spaces as we simultaneously try to repair them. Durbin’s process also involves Barbara Creed’s notion of the monstrous feminine and reclaiming a female body abused by patriarchal forces.

In many ways, Blackwell and Reddick’s enjoyment of horror relies on Laura Mulvey’s notion of the gaze — and its power — in horror films in particular. Blackwell has shifted what is the traditional white male gaze in horror movies to that of Black women, and this opens up an entirely new framework through which to enjoy and analyze horror stories. Reddick and his community appreciate horror as a kind of collective, examining horror movies from a group gaze as well as a personal one.

In these contexts, the “pleasure” in horror is not necessarily an enjoyment of being frightened or scared, but rather a chance for personal and communal development through specific types of narratives. Horror, then, becomes more than just pleasurable entertainment even through its discomforts: Horror becomes a place of power, both personal and communal.  

The post Exploring Horror and the “Pleasure” of Fear appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Bettina founded Amazon’s disaster relief program in 2017, transforming the company’s operational strengths into life-saving capabilities. Under her leadership, Amazon has leveraged its delivery network, fulfillment centers, and data-driven insights to provide rapid, effective support during crises from natural disasters to humanitarian emergencies. But her work extends far beyond disaster response. Bettina’s team also leads initiatives that address food insecurity and educational inequality mobilizing Amazon’s scale to deliver fresh food to families’ doorsteps, support local food banks, and help schools in rural areas continue feeding students even when classes aren’t in session.

At Amazon, Bettina Stix has spent years at the forefront of community impact and disaster relief building programs that move beyond charity to strategic, data-informed systems that save lives. As the founder of Amazon’s disaster relief program, Stix understands the logistics behind crisis response better than most. Her team’s approach began with a simple question to organizations like the Red Cross: What do you need?

But as Stix recalls, the answer wasn’t always clear. “In the beginning, they told us not to worry, that they had what they needed,” she said. “Then the second hurricane came, and suddenly gloves, cleaning supplies, even chlorine were unavailable. These things take time to move across borders or clear regulations for hazardous materials.”

That experience changed how Amazon structured its disaster relief partnerships. Today, Amazon maintains pre-positioned “disaster hubs” stocked with the supplies most often requested by relief partners, everything from medical kits to cleaning essentials. The idea, Stix said, is simple but powerful: learn from the data of past crises to anticipate what will be needed next time. “You always bucket what people ask for most,” she noted. “Now our partners have certain kits ready before disaster strikes.”

When asked about the intersection of AI and reliability, especially amid recent AWS outages and global discussions about automation and layoffs, Stix offered a thoughtful perspective. “AI has its believers and deniers, and both are justified,” she said. “There are ethical challenges, but also enormous opportunities. I compare it to how people once feared trains or the internet — we’ll figure it out.”

For Stix, AI’s promise lies not just in large-scale operations, but in how it empowers small community organizations. “A tiny food pantry serving fifty people can use AI to track donations or forecast needs,” she explained. “That saves volunteers hours of bookkeeping and lets them focus on helping people.”

From flood prevention modeling to predictive supply chains, AI tools are already reshaping disaster response. Stix envisions a future where these technologies are accessible even to under-resourced nonprofits, helping them build resilience before the next crisis. “Communities are always resource-trapped,” she said. “Even a small efficiency can make a big difference.”

For Amazon’s community impact team, that’s the ultimate goal: using innovation not for profit, but for preparedness and turning the lessons of past storms into data-driven hope for the next.

Bettina continues to demonstrate how Amazon’s “customer obsession” and inventive spirit can also serve as powerful tools for community good. Whether supporting disaster recovery, fighting hunger, or strengthening education, her work shows how the same principles that make Amazon a global leader in commerce can also help build stronger, more resilient communities.

This interview was edited and condensed for clarity

The post Driving Impact Through Innovation: Bettina Stix on How Amazon Is Redefining Community Support appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

As the name suggests, the cozy gaming community centers on games that soothe rather than stress. Titles like The Sims, Stardew Valley, and Animal Crossing. But this panel made one thing clear: behind every chill stream is a creator carving out something profound. For these Black creators, cozy gaming is a form of resistance, self-care, and community-building in a digital landscape that hasn’t always been welcoming.

What emerged from this conversation was a vision of cozy gaming that’s deeply intentional. These creators aren’t simply streaming games; they’re cultivating healing spaces, challenging stereotypes, and redefining digital comfort on their own terms.

The cozy gaming space has long been painted with a particular aesthetic, soft lighting, lo-fi beats, and pastel palettes. And for many, it’s been associated with white creators who embody that gentle, minimalist lifestyle. For a while, that visual dominance shaped perceptions of who belonged in cozy gaming. But a growing number of Black streamers are reshaping that narrative, proving that the cozy corner of Twitch and YouTube is as expansive and inclusive as the people who inhabit it.

Historically, Black gamers have been stereotyped into certain genres: shooters, fighting games, sports titles — the kinds of spaces defined by high energy and competition. While many excel there, the assumption that these are the only games Black players gravitate toward has been limiting. What this new wave of cozy creators demonstrates is that representation doesn’t require permission or validation; it begins by simply showing up. Every stream that features a Black gamer tending crops in Stardew Valley or designing furniture in The Sims is an act of quiet resistance and reclamation.

One streamer reflected on how finding supportive peers helped them grow not only as a creator but as a person. Racism and harassment can find their way into even the calmest corners of the internet, but what makes this community special is how it rallies around its members. When the hate inevitably shows up in a chat, the collective response isn’t to engage but to protect each other’s peace, keeping the positive energy flowing.

These creators also take pride in fostering spaces that mirror their own values, places built on kindness, respect, and shared vibes. Curating that environment requires intention. It’s not just about moderation tools or chat rules; it’s about cultivating an energy that feels safe, where viewers can relax without fear of ridicule or toxicity. As one streamer noted, it’s about finding “people with the same values and energy,” the ones who get what it means to make community feel like home.

One of the biggest challenges, however, is visibility. There’s still a scarcity of Black male representation in cozy gaming. While Black women creators are making visible strides, Black men often go unseen in this genre. It’s not that they’re absent, they’re just underrepresented in an algorithmic system that rarely surfaces them. For some, embracing their authentic selves meant unlearning internalized pressure to conform. Early on, a few felt the need to “tone down” aspects of their identity. The music they played, the way they spoke, to align with what cozy content was supposed to look or sound like. Over time, confidence replaced conformity. Now, they stream with rap beats in the background, bringing warmth and authenticity into a space that once told them to dim their light.

Boundaries are another essential part of this evolution. As streamers build growing communities, they face the delicate balance of being open and approachable while maintaining emotional safety. Setting limits about what topics are off-limits, what jokes cross the line, or when to disengage becomes a form of self-care. Sometimes that means gently redirecting a conversation with a lighthearted “we don’t do that here.” Other times, it means ignoring a message altogether to preserve energy for what truly matters: connection and joy.

At its core, the cozy gaming movement within the Black community is about expansion and expanding who gets to be seen, what “cozy” can sound like, and how inclusion can feel. It’s about redefining comfort not as a curated aesthetic, but as a shared emotional experience. These creators are proving that coziness isn’t fragile; it’s resilient. It’s the soft power of presence, the beauty of finding stillness in your truth, and the courage to make digital spaces feel like home for everyone.

For more about what took place during this panel, check out the recorded session here:

The post Black Creators Redefining Cozy Gaming at TwitchCon 2025 appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

The latest release marks something special: Marvel’s official debut in the Magic universe. While Marvel already boasts its own tabletop hits like Marvel Champions, its integration into the 31-year-old MTG franchise is pure genius.

This September, Wizards of the Coast unveiled a deck inspired by the Spider-Verse. The set features 188 unique cards, all legal across MTG formats, celebrating the expanding web of spider-themed heroes from Miles Morales and his clone Silk to Miguel O’Hara, the futuristic Spider-Man 2099. And yes, the symbiotes have arrived too. This diverse lineup fits seamlessly into the game’s five-color system, each representing a distinct playstyle.

Black cards, focused on efficiency and resource manipulation, perfectly suit the symbiotes Venom reigns supreme here. Red represents speed and aggression, making it a natural home for the bold and unpredictable Spider-Gwen. Green channels the raw power of nature think Miles Morales, Spider-Rex, and Sandman. Blue embodies strategy and control, fitting figures like Doctor Octopus and Madame Web. And white, the color of teamwork and resilience, houses Peter Parker himself — the heart of the Spider-Verse and the source of its hope.

Even if you’re not a player, the artwork alone is worth the investment. The deck includes a series of borderless cards styled after iconic comic book covers. But the true prize is the Soul Stone a rare, highly coveted card with a low mana cost, indestructibility, and the power to resurrect creatures from the graveyard. A foil version is reportedly selling for nearly $40,000. Unreal.

If terms like “mana” or “upkeep phase” sound foreign, MTG’s official website offers a fantastic series of beginner videos. In short: players build a deck of at least 60 cards, draw seven to form their hand, and use mana (from “lands”) to cast spells, summon creatures, and battle opponents through a structured five-phase turn.

For those looking to unplug, Friday Night Magic is a weekly event hosted at comic and game shops nationwide. For around $15, players draft decks, compete, and often take home card packs as prizes. It’s social, strategic, and surprisingly fun even for newcomers. Most shops foster a welcoming community (with the occasional “ogre” kept in check by attentive owners).

If you’re searching for a screen-free hobby for yourself or your teen, a pre-release pack and card sleeves make a great starter set roughly a $50 gift, perfect for birthdays or holidays.

And if Spider-Man isn’t your speed, stay tuned. Wizards of the Coast has already teased upcoming 2026 sets featuring more Marvel heroes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Star Trek, and The Lord of the Rings.

The multiverse just got a little more magical.

The post Marvel Enters the Magic: The Gathering Multiverse appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Within the past few years, “introversion” is one of the most popular words to grace the internet. To some, it’s a fad, but to others, it’s our lifestyle. So much so, the thought of talking to someone for hours, seconds or even minutes about coffee, Kim Kardashian or recent brands is uninspiring. Let’s talk about Kepler 186f, better yet, TRAPPIST-1 solar system. Let’s dive deeper and explore our subconscious mind to learn about what makes it so majestic. Let’s take a look at the extrovert-introvert.

Some days I want to talk while other days, I’d rather not be bothered, as my mind has already traveled around the galaxy and back. But once I’m back on earth, my introversion becomes questioned. Many people assume there is a look or style to introversion when in all actuality, we just lose energy by being around people for a long time. Before congregating with fellow earthlings, I need a forewarning because I need to recharge by only being consumed with my thoughts for the moment, a good book or movie. Sometimes I like to go for long walks with my dog as well.

Introversion is notably unique, especially being a woman of color whose an INFJ. Women of color are believed to be extroverted, the life of the party or always on the go. However, being the rarest personality type, which makes up 1% of our population, I consider myself a rare breed among rarer breeds. INFJs (Introversion, Intuition, Feeling, Judging) are one of Myers-Briggs 16 personality types, which was created by a prominent psychiatrist, Carl Jung. I like to believe he used my brain to define INFJs because I see myself in each aspect of his research.

As an INFJ, I’m sometimes mistaken for an extrovert because I have an outgoing personality, especially around people that I’m alike. Due to my excessive enthusiasm and love for fighting a cause, my eagerness has labeled me an “extroverted introvert,” until I’m invited for tea on the weekend and I somehow fall ill *cough – cough* in order to recharge my batteries.

Since decoding these 4 exquisite letters, INFJ, I’ve been on an everlasting spaceship capturing amazing images from my telescope. I continue to celebrate myself. I’m okay with random burst of laughter, discussing ruby programming or people watching to create characters of how I see the world. Introversion is not something that needs to be fixed, but a personality profile that creates coders, authors, artist, gamers and most of all, a rare personality which keeps the world rotating.

The post The Extroverted-Introvert Explained appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

In most cases, the victim is pained with the trauma of being teased, ridiculed or harassed years after the bullying ended. And in extreme cases victims turn to suicide to stop the pain.

October is National Bullying Prevention Month. While all states have criminal laws that may apply to bullies, did you know these states do not explicitly address electronic forms of bullying in the verbiage of its laws? 

Maine

Minnesota

Nebraska

New Hampshire

New Mexico

Wyoming

Here are some statistics below that may surprise you on how pervasive bullying is in our culture.

Bullying is not an issue that affects an insignificant amount of people. Approximately 36.5% of students have experienced cyberbullying and 81% of young people think bullying online is easier to get away with than in person.

90% of people who have seen social media bullying say they have ignored it and 9 out of 10 teen victims will not inform a parent or trusted adult of their abuse. Bullying victims are more likely to consider suicide and about 75% of students have visited a website bashing another student.

The post End Cyberbullying: October is National Bullying Prevention Month appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

Even with the never-ending battle of which is better, East Coast or West Coast rap, many Blacks in the United States have this unspoken connection. 

However, this unity among Blackness can be limited to US borders. This limitation became more apparent while listening to a podcast Black Stories Black Truths, which gave me a new perspective on identity and Black culture. I became more aware that the commonalities that many Black Americans share don’t always exist with Black immigrants within the United States. 

In the podcast, several Black immigrants spoke about their transition into America and their abrupt introduction to Black American culture. After listening to the episode titled “I didn’t know I was Black until I came to this country,” I questioned how the concept of Blackness has been used to divide and unite Black people throughout the diaspora. In addition, it made me see the importance of Black people coming together despite cultural differences. 

Learning from the perspective of African immigrants in the United States

When I think of Black people in the United States, thoughts of Southern hospitality and hip-hop culture come to mind. Likewise, when I think of immigrants, I don’t necessarily think of Africans coming to the United States. Yet a Pew Research study showed that 1 out of 10 Black Americans are African immigrants.

Unlike immigrants from other cultures, Africans who have immigrated to the United States face a unique experience. Because of Africans’ dark skin color, there is a double layer of expectation and assumption. 

African immigrants are often expected to assimilate into Black American culture without knowing much about Black American lingo and social norms and little about Black history. For instance, one immigrant on the podcast admitted not knowing who Martin Luther King Jr. was simply because it wasn’t taught in her African schools.

Every immigrant coming to the United States carries the expectation to in some way assimilate into the larger American culture. African immigrants face the uncomfortable choice of trying to assimilate to Black culture or not assimilating and identifying more with their African culture to separate themselves from Black American culture.

Why would an African immigrant create this separation of culture? The simple answer is racism. Being a Black American means there is a higher chance you will receive more mistreatment because you are Black.

The divide between African immigrants and Black Americans

On social media, I have occasionally come across what is known as the diaspora wars. According to the National Black Cultural Information Trust, the diaspora wars can be described as cross-cultural arguments in which different people of African heritage or background dislike one another for various reasons. 

These wars, although rooted in white supremacy, have caused great misunderstanding and misperceptions of a variety of Black cultures across the world. For instance, due to limited media coverage, Black Americans often know little about the recent conflicts in countries such as Sudan or South Africa. The same could be said for the Africans not knowing about the water crisis in Michigan and Mississippi.

Because of the misinformation and lack of information in the mainstream media, social media can often spread false narratives that further divide Black Americans from Africans or other people of African descent worldwide. Thus, Black people worldwide must focus on what connects and strengthens us. 

Bridging our cultural gaps

I believe three main things connect Black Americans with Africans and those of African descent. The three things are food, music, and dance.

Our food

As highlighted in an article on Feathers and Whiskey, no matter the dish’s name, there are common ingredients between Southern Black American cuisine and African cuisine. When brought to the United States, enslavers stripped enslaved Africans of their African culture. Yet their culture was reborn through food. Many Southern dishes use staple African ingredients such as black-eyed peas, collard greens, watermelon, okra, and yams. 

Our music 

Black Americans held onto their music despite threats of having their hands cut off if they played traditional African instruments. They created spirituals, music with their hands, and jazz music. Music has often been this unspoken language of influence between Africans and Black Americans — something very evident in the new African music craze Amapiano, which is heavily influenced by jazz music.  

Our dance

From music, dance naturally evolved. Dance is an art form that plays ping pong between African culture and Black American culture. Thanks to pioneers such as Pearl Primus, who brought African dances back to the United States, and the streaming of dance craves worldwide, Black dance has evolved into a collective work of art. 

When Black people, whether African or Afro-Latina, stay open and curious, we can all strengthen our connections and become stronger as a collective. 

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