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Afrikan Agarianism – Subcultures 

by Bahji Steele 03/10/2025
written by Bahji Steele

For over 400 years, our hands tilled the soil, not by choice but forced through our captivity in chains. Promises of reparations crumbled, leaving us landless in a country we built. It’s no wonder that when you hear “Afrikan Amerikkkan” and “farmer” in the same sentence, optimism feels out of reach. This is especially true in hyper-developed cities like Los Angeles, where many of our ancestors fled after emancipation, seeking freedom beyond the fields that once enslaved them. Denied our 40 acres, shut out from land ownership, and systematically displaced, we’ve been pushed further from the idea of cultivating our own ecological balance. But what if we reclaimed it? What if the soil was always ours to begin with? 

Tucked between two weathered apartment buildings, just off the roar of the 91 freeway and Rosecrans, lies Compton Community Garden—a hidden oasis of renewal and resistance. Here, in the heart of a so-called food desert, life blooms. Temu, a Compton native and horticulturist who helped bring CCG to life, poses a powerful question: “Compton has the most ideal weather for organic gardening, yet we’re still considered a food desert? How did we get here? Is this by accident? We have the chance to change the narrative—to restore balance, heal ourselves, feed ourselves, employ ourselves, and build collective wealth.” A garden may seem simple, but in a world designed to keep us disconnected from the land, it’s nothing short of revolutionary. It’s a space to nourish bodies, reclaim community, and cultivate a future rooted in self-sufficiency.

“For our ancestors, farming was not a symbol of oppression, but rather a symbol of resistance and freedom. Every time we plant a seed, we are committing an act of sovereignty.” 

These words from Leah Penniman, author of Farming While Black, reframe farming as a means of liberation. As each seed is planted, so is the possibility of a new reality—one where food justice, sustainability, and collective power take root in Compton and beyond.

03/10/2025 0 comments
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Black HistoryCultureLifestyleOpinion

“Onwards and Upwards”

by Xavier Adams 03/06/2024
written by Xavier Adams

It is no secret that peering into the past affords us a more illustrative picture of the present and allows us to grapple with pressing issues of change, liberation, and one that I find particularly interesting, progress. 

My enthusiasm may then come as no surprise once I was granted access to NOMMO’s historical archives which date back to half a century ago. The burning question in the foreground of my mind was: How does the past compare to the future? 

As I dug through the archives, the headlines read: “The Perpetual Rape of Africa: The Scramble Continues” “Gates Wants it All: Battering Ram Not Enough” “The Coming Racial Struggle and the Crisis of Capitalism” “Radio Stations Refuse Airplay of Anti-Apartheid Single” “African Self-Determinism Through the Arts” 

Not to mention a flier that read, “We are Promoting the Complete Unification of All Africans. We Understand this to be the Prerequisite to Liberation.” 

Although these articles were published decades ago they are, in a sense, uncanny – all too familiar despite the celebrated notion of progress. 

Here we witness calls to end colonial rule throughout Africa, South America, Asia, and the Middle East; editorials concerned with the increasingly repressive police apparatus; unrelenting social and economic racial disparities under capitalist regimes; popular media, grounded in a white standpoint, refusing to shed any spotlight on the subjugation of the subaltern; the need for independent Pan-Afrikan voices to reveal the gravity of their own oppression; and calls for nation-building through the unification of the Afrikan diaspora. 

Decades have passed and yet these issues reverberate perfectly in today’s world. Neo-colonialism is well alive (a struggle that especially resonates in Palestine, the Congo, and Sudan, whose people routinely suffer from atrocious acts of injustice). Mass incarceration and police violence as instruments of oppression are well alive. The social and economic inequalities wrought by capitalism are well alive. The widespread neglect of the marginalized experience is well alive. The need for independent Pan 

Afrikan voices is well alive. The fragmentation of the Afrikan diaspora is well alive. 

The notion of progress within the Pan-Afrikan community is a slippery one: it is widely assumed that we have significantly – though gradually – progressed toward freedom, effectively severing ourselves from 20th-century ills. Yet, it must be asked: how much progress have we enjoyed? 

To my disappointment, this all too attractive idea of significant progress is, for the most part, a 

mistake. The present is marked not by linear and gradual progress but by its absence. 

The ills of the 20th century are the ills of today. 

03/06/2024 0 comments
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LifestyleNews

The Gentrification of Belize

by Brianna Juliet Lambey 03/06/2024
written by Brianna Juliet Lambey

Belize is the home of my ancestors, the place where our culture was founded and fostered. Belizeans, particularly Garifuna Belizeans, who have spent generations on their land are being pushed off their land by foreigners looking for a new vacation home. The ancestral land is now being filled with high-end resorts, pickleball courts, and bars paid for with foreign money. Both my parents are Garifuna people who immigrated to the Occupied Turtle Island (the United States) from the southern coastal towns of Belize. The first time I saw glimpses of my parent’s home country was on an episode of House Hunters International when a white couple was looking for a beachfront home to move to after they retired. The land of my ancestors is being sold to the highest bidder. I didn’t know it at the time, but this episode of House Hunters was a sign of gentrification, another consequence of European colonialism.

The Origins of the Black Caribb:

Garifuna is the main ethnic/cultural group of pan-Afrikan Belizeans. Garifuna culture is thought to have originated in the Caribbean when ships carrying enslaved people landed on the coastal areas of countries like Honduras, St. Vincent, and Belize. Many Garifuna people fled enslavement brought on by oppressive British colonialism in Honduras and settled along the southern coastal parts of Belize. Since then the Garifuna people have largely made up the population of the southern coastal towns like Hopkins, Dangriga, and Punta Gorda.

The Displacement of the Garifuna People

During the period of British colonialism in Belize the southern coastal towns which have been historically predominantly inhabited by the Garifuna people went largely untouched by Europeans. However in recent years as Belize has become more of a tourist destination the beachfront properties and land, particularly in the town of Hopkins, are largely being purchased by white Americans and Europeans. A study conducted by three Belizean scholars found that “75% or more of coastal land has[ve] been purchased by foreigners.” The per capita income of residents in developed countries is roughly “eight or more times that of Belize,” which allows for a “greater disposable income and ability to pay” for the coastal land. The difference in disposable income allows foreigners from developed countries to “drive up prices of Belize land to levels far above what most Belizeans can afford” which shuts the native people of Belize out of the market for land (Cayetano).

The gentrification of Belize has largely gone unnoticed, but with every new purchase of beachfront property, the native people of Belize are being pushed farther inland, and away from the land that has been theirs since they escaped oppression. Gentrification is the new form of European colonialism, the process involves foreigners coming to a country and exploiting the country’s resources for economic gain at the expense of the native people who have spent generations on the land.

The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines gentrification as “a process in which a poor area (as of a city) experiences an influx of middle-class or wealthy people who renovate and rebuild homes and businesses and which often results in an increase in property values and the displacement of earlier, usually poorer residents.” Similarly the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines colonialism as “the practice of extending and maintaining a nation’s political and economic control over another people or area.” In the case of Belize where the country’s economy is largely dependent on tourism, beachfront properties are incredibly valuable. The town of Hopkins which was formerly known for having one of largest Garifuna populations is now known for its various resorts, tourist attractions, and its growing number of foreign residents. Even Bill Gates purchased land to build a beachfront compound off the coast of Hopkins. By controlling Belize’s land market foreigners are able to control a large portion of the country’s economy which often grants political power within the country.

Webster’s dictionary definition of colonialism and gentrification can be easily applied to Belize, as middle-class to wealthy foreigners are seizing economic, and potentially political control, through the country’s land market at the expense of displacing the native residents from their land. When I visited Hopkins the coast largely resembled areas in Los Angeles with large gated beach houses, restaurants, and (in comparison to other parts of Belize) very few pan-Afrikan people. This starkly contrasts with other southern coastal towns in Belize which have very few white people, and have more businesses that cater to the locals rather than the tourists. The Garifuna culture that has generationally inhabited the Belize land is being pushed out with the native residents. An example of the cultural displacement occurring in the town of Hopkins is the Jankunu tradition.

Given the origins of the Garifuna, the culture is largely influenced by the different Afrikan cultures across the diaspora. Garifuna culture has adopted its own traditions and style, with influences from different Afrikan cultures, such as the Jankunu (roughly pronounced John Canoe). Jankunu is a dance that served the original purpose of mocking the white slave owners during colonialism, but has now become a staple of Garifuna culture and is performed every holiday. Traditionally the Jankunu perform their dance in front of local households in exchange for roughly twenty Belize dollars (ten US dollars), however, in recent years places like Hopkins are now charging around four hundred Belize dollars (two hundred US dollars) to watch the dancers perform. By drastically raising the price many of the natives may no longer be able to afford to experience the cultural tradition of seeing the Jankunu dancers perform. Meanwhile, the resorts in the area hire the Jankunu to perform for their guests, so they can get a glimpse into the Garifuna culture which comes at the expense of the native people.

It’s sad to see some of the last few places on this earth that have largely gone untouched by European colonialism and imperialism become gentrified. The Garifuna people spent years escaping the oppression and colonialism brought on by European forces, but years later colonialism has returned under the guise of capitalism.

A potential solution to the cultural and physical displacement of the country’s native people is to follow in the footsteps of Mexico which previously “banned foreigners entirely from directly owning land.” Although this approach may appear drastic it would help preserve the garifuna culture and presence on their native land. It seems more drastic to allow the garifuna people to be displaced from their land, and replaced by foreigners due to wealth disparities. By prohibiting foreigners from directly owning land the garifuna people can continue to occupy and own their ancestral land.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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Black HistoryCultureLifestyleNewsOpinion

The Sexualization of Afrikan Girls

by Nyomi Henderson 03/06/2024
written by Nyomi Henderson

Because we are simultaneously Afrikan and woman, we have become accustomed to our natural bodies being oversexualized in society. Since the beginning of institutionalized racism and the colonial empire’s enslavement regime, Afrikan women’s bodies have always been associated with the idea of a promiscuity that was foreign and erotic. Institutionalized racism is defined as: the perpetuation of discrimination based on “race” by political, economic, or legal institutions and systems like education and the legal system. Now, some could argue that as a woman “lucky” enough to be living in a society with things like the #MeToo Movement and Title XI, the treatment of “colored” women has come a long way. I beg to differ…

While I want to acknowledge the work of Faye Wattleton, Elaine Brown, and so many others who were pioneers of social justice and advocates for the reproductive rights of Afrikan women, it doesn’t erase the violence we have endured. There will never be a justification for forced reproduction for profit and pleasure or the immoral study of the female anatomy through dissection and nude physical auctions.

To ground our discussion on the sexualization of Afrikan women, I want to remind of us Sarah Baartman and how her body, to this day, is still fetishized and sexualized. The constant violation of her rights and autonomy throughout history challenges us to consider how sexual violence is used as a tool of colonial power, intimidation, and dehumanization. In an opinion column done by Hope Moses titled “Oversexualization of Black Girls and Women Must Stop,” they hit the nail on the head by mentioning how:

A 2017 Georgetown University study discovered that Black girls as young as 5 years old are already seen as less innocent and in need of less support than white girls of the same age. This presumption leads teachers and other authority figures to treat Black girls as older than they are and more harshly than white female students, with the disparity being vast for 10- to 14-year-olds.

Focus on the phrase “less innocent.” Most people tend to associate that phrase with immorality, or the quality of being impure and sinful. Through this language, we begin to understand how sexualization functions to erase and delegitimize the innocence of Afrikan girls—the very same innocence our white peers gain by simply being alive. In a theory I heard from one of my favorite video essayists, Tee Noir, called the “Pink Nipple Theory”, she discusses the difference in how white womanhood is received in comparison to Afrikan femininity. In essence, white women expressing sexuality and sensuality is deemed acceptable, as their sexuality is understood as separate from their identity. This wildly contradicts the rhetoric formed around Afrikan expressions of sexuality, which is seen as less of an act and more of an identity. This creates a world in which Afrikan women’s bodies are weaponized against them through institutions of white supremacy. We are hypersexualized as a condition of the violence used to justify and aid in institutionalized racism.

So when we start to think about the adultification of Afrikan women at a young age, it’s easy to see how girls as young as 5 years old are being dress-coded and sent back home for not wearing “appropriate attire.” These institutions of racial violence cause young Afrikan women to experience a different childhood than their peers, lacking the freedom that comes with acting their age, without hyperawareness of their sexualization.

Our families can also function as institutions of violence because they foster our primary socialization. This is important because our parents can indirectly and directly internalize adultification, whether it’s by punishing us or by making side comments about our bodies and our intentions, on the basis that we should “know better” or just want to “act grown.” Even the textbooks we read in school fail to mention the historical menticide and generational traumas that have impacted the way that we see our bodies. As a result, structural violence against Afrikan women has become the status quo.

I couldn’t relate more to the feeling of being seen through someone else’s eyes. This is why in the Afrikan community it’s so important to challenge the normalization of sexual violence in our society and investigate how impunity is often grated to perpetrators of violence against women, men, and nonbinary people. It can happen to anyone, at any time, yet the punishment and repercussions are low. As more and more of us realize our autonomy, we recognize that this has to change as we, in our essence, are inherently valuable.

You are more than your body and what you “bring to the table.” You are whole and flooded with adoration. You are someone worth getting to know, not because of how you look externally but because of the traits and quirks you have that you think no one else sees. If this message triggered anyone, I would like to drop some resources such as the National Sexual Assault Hotline, which is available 24 hours at 1-800-656-4673. I also encourage mental health practices, such as journaling, community circles, and therapy.

You are more than your story, you are more than your abuse, you are loved.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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Arts & EntertainmentBlack HistoryCultureLifestyleOpinion

The Negro Is Still in Vogue

by Xavier Adams 03/06/2024
written by Xavier Adams

“The 1920s were the years of Manhatten’s black Renaissance,” writes Langston Hughes in his memoir The Big Sea, recalling the time “when the Negro was in vogue:” A time of “Countee Cullen, Ethel Water, Claude McKay, Duke Ellington, Bojangles, and Alain Locke,” of those “New Negros,” and of great strides for the Afrikan body: “They thought that the race problem had been solved through Art.”

Of course, the period of great progress was permeated with irony: consuming the performance and entertainment from Afrikan bodies while simultaneously degrading said bodies through strict segregation policies. As Hughes recalls, “Some of the owners of Harlem clubs, delighted at the flood of white patronage, made the grievous error of barring their own race, after the manner of the famous Cotton Club.” The Afrikan body undoubtedly occupies a zone of commodification.

But, what is equally concerning is the fascination with the Afrikan body, a provocation to speak about it: the increasing amount of Afrikan plays performed, books published by Afrikan authors, and, importantly, “the white writers [who] wrote about Negros more successfully (commercially speaking) than Negros did about themselves”.

Here, one is drawn back to Hughes’s remark about the great progress of the black Renaissance: “I don’t know what made any Negros think that–except that they were mostly intellectuals doing the thinker. The ordinary Negroes hadn’t heard of the Negro Renaissance.” This knowledge of the Afrikan body, and its prominence in media, far from reflecting the experience of the ordinary Afrikan body, was created by the white imagination.

It would be a mistake to place degradation in contrast to fascination: they stem from the same history casting the Afrikan body into a commodity. In the latter case, the Afrikan body as an object of fascination functions not merely to perform and entertain, but more so as a blank canvas whose history becomes implanted according to the white imagination: the great “Negro Renaissance” which cements itself a rendezvous of cultural identification and pride.

A fundamental link therefore emerges between the Afrikan body, media presence, and the white imagination, a link that functions to further regard the Afrikan body as a commodity.

Upon reflection, Hughes implies that that time has passed, peaking “…just before the crash of 1929, the crash that sent Negros, white folks, and all rolling down the hill toward the Work Progress Administration.” Whether Hughes was mistaken in suggesting the end of the vogue or not is irrelevant, for today, the Afrikan body in popular media continues to function as a commodity of fascination placed within the white imagination in the guise of progress. Today, fascination with the Afrikan body often manifests as an uncritical narrative of equality that equates representation to progress: great strides in movies, shows, and advertisements as if “…the race problem had been solved through Art.” In the final analysis, the negro is still in vogue.

03/06/2024 0 comments
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LifestyleOpinionU.S.

The Good, The Bad, and The White Moderate

by Bionca Benard 02/04/2022
written by Bionca Benard

Martin Luther King Jr. Day has just recently passed and it is my least favorite thing in the world to see white people post these pretty quotes: 

“Darkness can not drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.

I hate all of these quotes, no matter how inspiring they all, no matter how thoughtful they may be. Think of these posts like the black squares everyone was posting during the summer of 2020. They gave us nothing and did nothing. But still, they reposted, with the hashtags on their blacked-out posts. So many in fact, that they began to drown out the actual informative posts that were telling protestors about resources and updates on the Black Lives Matter movement. The MLK Jr. quotes and the Black-Out Tuesday posts were like the participation trophies they give to the bench players. They did nothing, but here they are expecting something.

“Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.”

Oh, brother…

The only quote I enjoyed to see from Dr. King was this one: “I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice” (Brown). 

It seems even Dr. King recognized the white moderate will always be a hindrance than an ally to Black people in America. The understanding that actual allyship involves more than just posts and not saying the n-word around their Black friends can take white people a long way. (If they’re actually willing of course.) If you consider yourself white and moderate, consider the following: 

  1. Don’t be moderate: There is no neutrality in the face of racism. You are on one side or you’re not. You either stand against the hatred or watch it unfold from the safety of your privilege. You can not be a bystander to the vicious onslaught your Black peers face if you are indeed anti-racist. 

Think of neutrality in the terms of war to make it easier (that’s something white people know well). WWI saw the US take a neutral stance during the feuding years. Woodrow Wilson believed in following the strict foreign policy: no alliances with foreign countries. This was, you know, a good idea, but not actually easy to execute because of the US alliances with Britain and France. 

Where’s the neutrality? You’re still friends with racists even if you’re not doing the racist deeds. White moderates are choosing to live in a bubble of security at the expense of Black people’s lives. The white flag you raise is covered in blood… 

The good, the bad, and white moderate… As a white person, where do you actually want to stand?  

02/04/2022 0 comments
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Russel Westbrook poses in a cream sweater, long white skirt and black boots.
Arts & EntertainmentCultureLGBTQ+

Black Male Femininity

by Zenia Davis 11/01/2021
written by Zenia Davis

On September 11th, Russell Westbrook posted a picture of himself dressed in a cream cardigan and a matching white skirt, provoking an uproar about his lack of masculine expression. The comments under the post are mainly reassertions that a man, especially one idolized by young Black boys, shouldn’t be expressing traits of femininity, therefore, his marriage with Nina Earl was questioned and his role as a father. 

The negativity towards Westbrook reveals hatred for Black male femininity because of the belief that Black men shouldn’t have qualities of being “gentle,” “soft,” or “overly emotional.” This prejudice intersects with misogyny as feminine expression is associated with women and characterized at times as being undesirable and too weak (to survive in society.)  Therefore, it’s preferred for black men to deny themselves of fully exploring their identity to enact the “masculine role.” 

Black children are often raised into the ideology that certain concepts are meant for either girls or for boys. That dolls are for girls, cars are for boys. Using curly hair products are for girls, but not for boys. Maintaining extensive hygiene routines are for girls, but not necessary for boys. In this, there’s failure to apprehend that biological sex is a fact of body while gender is a societal perception that are norms of culture often taught in childhood. 

@mukasakakonge  Photographed By: David Urbanke on Instagram

@rickeythompson on Instagram

Why are inanimate objects advertised categorically by gender specificities? 

For generations, black boys are told they’ll grow up to be the head of the family, therefore, they cannot afford to lose their masculine image. According to Loren Harris, “Rigid masculine ideals limit conceptions of opportunity and expose many young men to stigmatization, abuse, and violence because they’re neither attainable nor sustainable over time.” Masculine ideals are often interpreted by not showing feelings, never backing down, being dominant, and always meeting confrontation with force. These boys are encouraged to be athletic figures to exploit the ability of their physical bodies, but not often taught the importance of academic achievement, leading them to the inability to expand their knowledge. Street life is often preached to them, which has real consequences as society and police authorities begin stereotyping and profiling before they even turn three. They’re taught to reassert their straight sexualities’ before they can fully grasp what the word means nor are they given opportunities to discuss how they’re affected mentally by their traumas.

These standards are performative and cannot reach the internal self of a Black boy, and instead it asks that they ignore it. Masculine expectation of Black males can oppress them from their own understanding of self. The demand to hinder traits categorized as feminine engages the fear of being labeled as “gay” which femininity doesn’t always equate to.

@worsst Photographed by @beezshotme on Instagram

These childhood implications go into adulthood where Black Men interpret it in the form of using women as an achievement or a goal to be reached. They’re painted as the background of the woman who’s supposed to be the presentable wife supported by the ‘Strong Black Man.’ They’re suggested to integrate their life with women for sexual achievement, to make a family line, but the framing of the relationship is often devalued. They’re told to apply the requirements of the women they involve themselves with rather than hold that intimacy. “Movies, TV, and videos offer few affirming images of Young Black men in terms of relationships, intimacy, or sexuality. Black men are often presented as devoid of depth of love, and as of little importance beyond aggression or prowess with women,” states Harris. 

@shaunross on Instagram

Looking at the representation of films, Black communities are raised with films that use men dressed as women as the comedy punch line: Tyler Perry as Madea throughout the Madea series, Marlon Wayans and Shawn Wayans in White Chicks, Martin Lawrence as Big Momma from Big Momma’s House. Is Black male femininity only a comical matter; something that can only exist in a fictional narrative, or can it exist at all? 

We often accept the White man who expresses masculine and feminine characteristics, but why can’t we accept the Black ones?

11/01/2021 0 comments
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Black HistoryCultureLifestyle

Meet Syvila Weatherford: Black Professional Profile

by Leilani Fu’Qua 10/23/2021
written by Leilani Fu’Qua

One of college student’s biggest concerns is the ability to find a job in their field after graduation. These students fail to realize the freedom that comes with education, and the ability to redirect life at any moment. Syvila Weatherford is a testament to a life of change. She has been a computer engineer, patent lawyer, author, as well as a community leader. Weatherford, who received her education from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the University of Southern California, recalls her experience navigating higher education and her career as a Black woman. 

Weatherford’s first year at MIT commenced with massive culture shock. Due to recent Affirmative Action policies, her class of fifty Black students was considered large at the time. She says the administration was supportive of Black students, yet the campus lacked outlets for cultural expression. By the end of Weatherford’s undergraduate experience, those 50 students formed a Black Student Union that provided a community space, safe from friction and prejudice from white students. They protested for time on MIT’s campus radio station, and fundraised to bring Black speakers to campus. Weatherford’s experience in MIT’s BSU and Black studies courses shaped her in many ways. She says, “When my parents put me on the plane, I left with straightened hair, curls, capris, and a pink top. When I came home that first Christmas I had an afro, a dashiki and sandals, and I even carried a cane with me like traditional African leaders. My father said, “Where’s MY daughter?” 

After MIT, Weatherford moved back to Los Angeles and took up a job with Hughes Aircraft in Culver City where she started working on satellites. Hughes gave Weatherford a fellowship to study engineering at USC. Despite both campuses being predominantly white, she says USC and MIT were two different worlds. USC’s culture was less pro-Black, the students were not trying to ‘make waves,’  and there was no cohort of Black student representatives. After graduation, Weatherford became the Vice President for USC’s Black Alumni Association. 

She received her degree in patent law from Western State School of Law. Weatherford describes law school as “an unforgiving lover; it does not want to see you with anyone else.” She says law school completely rerouted her years of formulaic thinking and reoriented her mind to think like an attorney. With her new credentials as a patent attorney, Weatherford practiced patent law for aerospace engineers and the federal government for 10 years. 

This year, Weatherford published her first book, Blessings from the Four Winds, a Western romance novel inspired by her great grandfather’s life. Weatherford says, “I had no plans to be an author,” but was inspired by a family trip to Oklahoma in 1985, where her father began sharing stories about his grandfather who participated in the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889. She started writing outlines for chapters and jotting down ideas in the 1990’s, but didn’t start writing and editing until March 2020, when the coronavirus lockdown occurred. Weatherford says she felt extremely connected to her ancestral lineage during the books’ creation, and felt that her writing came from a place of ancestral connection and guidance. It is this special sentiment that permeates through the novel and makes each chapter so personal and thrilling. 

Weatherford encourages Black undergrads to be problem solvers and continue being thoughtful, both academically and socially. She says her experience taught her the importance of having fun, and hopes Black students find the balance between work and play. From engineer to lawyer to author, Weatherford exemplifies independence and excellence. 

Visit her website to learn more about herself and her book, Blessings from the Four Winds. 

10/23/2021 0 comments
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