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But after two years of working crappy jobs at minimum wage, I’d lost the glimmer in my eyes.
Sure, I would always love black history. There was no better feeling than learning about the people who struggled and overcame and left a legacy of success and hope behind. People who were battling slavery and discrimination. The people way before that who were building empires and armies.
But I wanted out of my parents’ couch surfing the TV at nine.
I wanted more than the fear of stepping outside on my own.
And, as blessed as I am to have parents who are wealthy and understanding, living off them wouldn’t help me achieve my professional or personal goals.
So I took matters into my own hands and started my blog.
Queen Kae’s Many Faces
There was a sore lack of fun, pretty, educational material online. The fact that our history was limited only to slavery, Jim Crow and oppression permeated the minds of everyone I knew.
So I set out to change that in my own little way.
Or Queen Kae did.
It’s what Kastle used to call me when I got really excited about my research. I figured it would keep my full name out of the limelight. I was—and still am—a really private person.
Through my blog, I’d post pictures of the books I’d read or the stories I’d learned. Sometimes, I’d post headless photos of myself—always careful to keep my identity anonymous.
To my surprise the blog, and the consequent social media channels, took off. I started getting fan mail from people who longed for positive black images and historical icons, but never got their fill online.
I started taking the blog more seriously and, the next thing I knew, I was getting messages from huge black-owned corporations wanting to work with me. Black clothing brands were sending items in the mail for free.
A few months later I got a direct message from Brenna asking if I wanted to work with her and the rest, as they say, is history. Black history.
My boss is exactly like me. She’s only a few years older, but her ability to suss out a story that will hit the heart of the masses is unparalleled. Together, we’ve started to build our own little African Histories empire.
Is it making a ton of money? Not yet.
But is it exactly where I want to be? Yes.
I’ve gotten so confident that I’ve even started showing my face online. Posting more about myself. Letting the world know the woman behind the blog.
They’re tiny steps, but they’re huge.
Especially after what happened when I was seven…
No.
I don’t think about that.
Breathe and release, Kaelyn.
Nervously, I glance at the door that’s locked.
It’s got a deadbolt, three chains, and several locks.
No one’s getting in.
I force myself to focus on the laptop in front of me and will my beating heart to quiet. There’s a photo of me on the screen. I’m in a beautiful dashiki, fabric billowing out behind me and my curls arching like a lion’s mane in the wind.
Good. Nice sunset behind me. Nice colors.
I fuss with the contrasts a little. Crop it. Hashtag. Post.
