bria nicole singletary

The fourth and final piece in this series. A thank you to the queer women who continue to show up, take up space, and push us to be bold. On Sunday, I had the honor of traveling to Pride with the intention of walking in the parade. Spoiler alert, that did not happen. While I was bummed about it for all of fifteen minutes, I was reminded that Pride was so much more than that. That same morning, while on the train, there were people who were dressed for the celebration and the

The third post in this series focuses on the nuances of building community and what to do when it is not easily found. In the first two posts within this series, we spent a lot of time analyzing my internal relationship with queerness. For this post, I want to shift into something more external—community. This may come as a bit of a shock however, I struggled with finding community for a really long time (I still do). Finding people that I felt kinship with was never the iss

The second of four parts. An essay on reclaiming style as a method of self-authorship. I had an affirming surgery last spring that allowed me to reevaluate my relationship with what I wore. One of the earliest pieces of wisdom that I received in life from my mom was an adage that we have all heard—if you look good, you feel good. I have a tortured history with how I presented to the world and the correlation between my identity. As a child, my mother was obsessed with treatin

The first of a four part series. This piece is a personal essay on what eighteen years of hiding in plain sight actually cost me, and what it took to finally stop. I told myself that in honor of Pride Month, I would make a series of four posts, highlighting different elements of my identity. As you can see, this is the first one, and it’s already the third Sunday. I’d like to say it’s because my life was really busy. The truth is I was scared, and writing about vulnerability

If you corner any of my friends that I have had since childhood, they will likely tell you that I said the most reckless things when they first met me. Who am I kidding, if you ask anyone who has ever met me at any phase of my life, they will likely respond that way. I have always been decisive, expressive, and detached enough not to care how I am perceived. Pre-teen me modeled her entire personality around being just like Regina George — snarky, abrasive, manipulative, yet s

It’s no secret that I have been in a committed relationship for four years. My partner has aided my growth over the years, championed my goals and professional wins, is the goofy to my goober and just an all-around best friend to me. Though no relationship is free of challenge, merging our lives felt so seamless and organic that it became easy to fall into the inevitable “we”. Before we knew it, our lives became a shared calendar, complete with coinciding maintenance appointm

I have been preparing to be a thirty year old woman since I was at least seven (likely earlier). I did not always know what I wanted my future to look like but I knew one thing for sure--I wanted to be "grown". I arrived at this conclusion from watching my mother and the women she surrounded herself with. They always made adulthood look fun, easy and alluring. They dressed how they wanted and were always on trend, they ate at great restaurants, they went to popular events