Ain't I A Woman?

Patricia Arquette brought up equal wage in her Oscar acceptance speech, and it was great. And Meryl Streep gestured from the audience in support, and it was great.

But then afterwards, surely on a high from winning Best Supporting Actress, Patty continued with, "It’s time for all the women in America, and all the men that love women and all the gay people and all the people of color that we’ve all fought for to fight for us now."

Not so great, for a couple of reasons. One, the fight for racial and sexual orientation equality is far from over, but that is another topic for another blog post. Or a graduate thesis. What resonated with me more was the lack of recognition for intersectionality in this statement. Women can be non-white and not straight, and these things are not mutually exclusive. Was she asking queer women of color to choose their womanhood over their race and sexual orientation?

How apropos for the last week of Black History Month and the week before Women's History Month.

It got me thinking about a project I did sophomore year for my Dramaturgy class at UT. The assignment was to create a fictional theater company, complete with a mission statement and a season schedule.

"Mwali Theater Company, based in Harlem, is dedicated to serving and presenting work to young black females in urban areas. We want to act as a catalyst for our audiences to achieve their dreams and promote a positive self-image. Our 2012-2013 season is entitled "Ain't I A Woman?", honoring black female playwrights. 

Works will include; Rachel by Angelina Grimke, an adaptation of The Street by Ann Petry, A Raisin in the Sun by Lorraine Hansberry, and For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf by Ntozake Shange."

My guiding principle for this project was the idea of black women being a "double minority". They are black and they are women in a white male-dominating society. Not only are they being rejected by men for being women, but they're being rejected by women (and men) for being black. Often being reduced to two cultural cliches, the "jezebel" and the "mammy", how in the hell are black women ever suppose to feel empowered? I've had plenty of my white guy friends and boyfriends exoticize and sexualize me...and I'm only half-black and light-skinned.

Luckily, there have been black women who have stood as pillars, tall and strong, not allowing anyone to knock them over. Black women who have stood at the podium of fame, and spoke their truth. I've looked to them as sources of inspiration, motivation, and sisterhood. And so, I made a list. (I've really been into lists lately, haven't I?) I narrowed them down, A LOT. There are so many black women not on this list that have accomplished extraordinary things. I chose to highlight the women that have had a direct effect on my art. And if you'll allow me to be a bit self-indulgent, I've included a few videos that will show just that.

Without further ado:

Misty Copeland
American Ballet Theater soloist
I'm embarrassed to admit I just really learned of Misty Copeland recently. I had heard whispers and rumblings, but then I bought her autobiography, and didn't put it down until I was done. She details her loving albeit unstable childhood, and all of obstacles she dealt with growing up, like living in a motel with her six brothers and sisters. Her journey as an African-American ballerina has been anything but easy, obviously. She introduced ABT to what a woman with curves and muscles looks like. Growing up in the dance studio, I was constantly told that I didn't have the body for ballet, and while I loved my ballet classmates, I was more than aware of my studio's lack of diversity. What I loved about Misty's book is the idea that true artistry comes from a passion and expression of self, rather than being a size zero (which I think she is, but I'll forgive her).

Patina Miller
Broadway musical actress
I actually met Patina the first time I saw her perform, as Sister Mary Clarence in Sister Act on Broadway. I was a sophomore in college, and I was hungry to connect with musical theater performers. She had such energy and vivacity on stage, it was hard to take my eyes off of her and watch other people. Her warmth and enthusiasm had me in tears by the end. She was genuinely sweet in person, too. I saw her again as The Leading Player in Pippin almost two years later, and she had the same captivating spirit and dynamics as before. What I love so much about Patina as a musical theater performer (rather than say, Audra McDonald) was her commitment to loud, lively characters as opposed to soft, romantic (and almost submissive?) characters. She attacked The Leading Player role with gumption, usually a role for a black man. As she was peppered questions about this topic during interviews, she confidently responded about her placement in the role, no apologies.

Phylicia Rashad and Debbie Allen
Broadway, film, TV actress and Broadway actress and dancer
It seems only natural to admire a stellar actress with whom I share a name, but Ms. Rashad is so much more than that! Her work in The Cosby Show is still some of the best I've seen in TV, and if you can get past P. Diddy's acting, her acting in the 2008 film A Raisin in the Sun is truthful, powerful, and compelling. No wonder she won the 2004 Tony for Best Leading Actress in a Play for Raisin's revival, although it's sad that she was the first African-American woman to do so. Debbie, her sister, is a firecracker. Her performance of Anita in West Side Story is engrained in my memory (I channel her, too, in the America video above). I don't know her as well as Ms. Rashad, but I do know she's incredible. What I think makes Ms. Rashad and what I hope to emulate in my own work is the ability to be strong and vulnerable when acting. It's not as easy as it looks.

Whoopi Goldberg
Broadway, film, TV actress
WHOOPAY. I feel like Whoopi is one of those crazy aunts I've known since I was born. She fluidly moves between stage and screen, and she keeps me laughing the whole time. She obviously has great comedic timing, but also has this very intriguing way of listening and just being. She seems so present in her work. I was obsessed with her in second grade, and I guess all the teachers at my school knew it, because after my talent show performance, a random teacher that I barely knew told me that Whoopi would be proud. That's all the praise I needed. My love for her continues (even though I know she is kind of whack on The View), so much so that I claimed her coveted Sister Mary Clarence role when my friends and I remade Sister Act 2's "Joyful, Joyful" for the 20th anniversary.

Maya Angelou
Poet and writer
When I chose Maya Angelou for my hero project in fourth grade, I didn't realize what a big deal she was. My mom had told me about her and her work, but as I grew up I quickly fell in love with her eloquent and intoxicating words. Some of my favorite quotes of hers are:
"Everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances."
"When we find someone who is brave, fun, intelligent, and loving, we have to thank the universe."
"You can't use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have."
"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."
"Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it."
"I got my own back."
Then there is her poem, "Phenomenal Woman", which I think articulates this idea I've been grappling with. Despite the setbacks predetermined for them because of their race and gender, black women are beautiful. Black women are strong, and have grit. Black women are phenomenal.

15 Inspiring Women

February has gotten me into a mood. Between finishing Amy Poehler's "Yes Please", the 100+ LGBTQ Black Women list, the #20beautifulwomen popping up on Instagram, Valentine's Day, and my self-assigned Big Sis at DoSomething.org, Keri Goff, departing from the organization, I have slipped into a mood. A reflection mood, thinking of all the women that have challenged me, advised me, encouraged and inspired me throughout my life. The ones that have watched me grow. The ones that have had fun with me, but also weren't afraid to tell me when to get it together.

I came up with a list. A HUGE list, with so many unexpected memories springing up along the way. But I know myself. I'm too impatient. There was no way I would ever finish a blog post detailing why I love each woman. And I know Millennials. No one from my intended audience would read a blog post that long. Our generation has short attention spans. I gave myself parameters and narrowed it down. They couldn't be related to me. And they had to be at least 10 years older than me and had to have nurtured my artistry, sparked my creativity, or invigorated my sense of female empowerment in some way. Even still, there are some wonderful women missing from this list (basically, I need to write a part two....)

Without further ado:

Keri Goff

How Long I've Known Her: 3 years

How I Met Her: DoSomething.org

Okay, I'm absolutely cheating because Keri is only like, two years older than me, but she co-inspired the post, so it's only fair. Kay-Z has become like my big sister. She's always there to give advice about boys, lipstick, and being a newcomer to the city. She fixes my make-up when it's smudge, let's me pester her in a total little sister way, and patiently answers all of my photoshop questions. She has such an eye for design, and even though I get so nervous to show her my stuff because she could easily laugh it off, I completely trust her because I know she will only help me get better. Keri will always have a special place in my heart. She was one of the first staff members to welcome me into Do Something. It was the third day, the office warming party was poppin, and she swept by me in a colorful maxi dress and simply blew me a kiss. It was one of the warmest welcoming gestures ever, and it made me feel like I was at home. To this day, her kisses blown my direction comfort me. I can't thank her enough, and I'm so excited to see her soar.

Quetta Carpenter

How Long I've Known Her: 3 years

How I Met Her: Acting professor/mentor/director at University of Texas

The first time I heard of Quetta was during a performance of "360 Round Dance" when a friend whispered "That's my acting professor, and she's so fucking cool." Quetta was mid-straddling a guy as a stripper. Talk of her became more and more prevalent, especially her reputation of being honest, talented, and really hard to impress. You can imagine, then, the nervousness I felt when I had to audition in front of her for a coveted Cell Block Tango monologue. Don't worry, I got through it. Afterwards, in Winship's atrium, Quetta tossed me a nod and a, “You were really funny in your audition,” and then casually continued on acknowledging the other students awaiting her attention. She was the popular girl who noticed me, and I felt so cool. We continued to exchange "hi"s when running into each other, and next thing I know, I was being cast in the play she was directing, “The Sparrow.” That production actually changed my life, and a huge part of it was because of Quetta’s vision, passion, and humor. I then went on to take her film acting class. You can imagine the nervousness I felt, again. She guided me through it, and we developed this wonderful mentorship, which has in turn, developed into a friendship. She has given me unforgettable nights of advice, laughter, secrets, and margaritas. But what I love most about Quetta, is her unapologetic authenticity. She's always herself and keeps it so real. She lives her truth boldly, and I can only hope to follow in her footsteps. 

Natasha Davison

How Long I've Known Her: 4 years

How I Met Her: Musical Theater Dance professor/mentor at University of Texas

Natasha and her Broadway Jazz dance class is the reason I stayed at UT after freshman year. I was ready to apply to UW, pack the bags, and head back to the rainy PNW. But my TTH 2-3:30 Intro to Anthropology was cancelled due to the professor's maternity leave, and so I marched over to Mark-Anthony's office to see what dance class I could take. He suggested Broadway Jazz, and I went to observe the class. I expected Natasha to be a strung out, strict ex-ballerina that somehow found her way into musical theater, but when I saw the class kick-ball-changing their way across the studio to Ke$ha, I realized I couldn't have been more wrong about Natasha. From her stories about Broadway in the 1980s to her enthusiasm for shoulder isolations, Natasha's class quickly became my favorite. She pushed me to be my absolute best, and truly believed in me as a dancer, which I hadn't experienced in a while. Her class became a safe environment for me to grow and learn and just have a really good time. After spending ~850 hours in that studio with her, she became like myAustin mom outside of the studio. She spit the truth about the life of a performer and shared the ingredients to make a bomb ass honey mustard vinaigrette. Now, I know I can call her with anything, and she'll be at the ready to listen and offer advice. 

Omi Jones

How Long I've Known Her: 5 years

How I Met Her: African American Performance professor/mentor at University of Texas

It's almost unfair that I took a class with Dr. Omi Jones my first semester of college, because she gave me such a high standard for every professor thereafter. She's brilliant. Eloquent. Articulate. Her passion for teaching commanded attention. Every word she spoke dripped with knowledge and honesty, and there was no way I was missing one. She pushed us think critically, open ourselves up to new experiences, and just be better people in general. My absolute favorite thing about Dr. Jones was how she seamlessly transition from an ordinary class into a true community that was comfortable, safe, and sacred. How she did it for all three classes I took with her still stumps me, but I'm beyond grateful. In those classes I grew as an artist, a scholar, and a person, which makes sense since Dr. Jones is an accomplished performer and academic herself. My peers and I were always eager to impress her, simply because she was so impressive herself. She accepted and respected all of her students so that we never felt embarrassed. I recall moments of her listening intently, brow furrowed, as students shared personal experiences, and providing guidance that was clearly wrapped in understanding and wisdom. In class, she was constantly radiating this maternal warmth, and on stage, her powerful energy extended through her fingertips and into the space. I miss her sincere laughter. Her difficult class-discussion questions. Her jingling bracelets. I took my first steps into African American studies, dramaturgy, and UT performance with her, and I can't express enough gratitude for her persistent and unwavering support. 

Liz Borromeo

How Long I've Known Her: 11 years

How I Met Her: Dance teacher at childhood dance studio

Meeting Liz was brief, a run-in in the lobby of the dance studio, but my first dance class with her was unforgettable. It provided a freedom and release that was non-existent in the ballet classes I had been taking. There was automatically a sense of trust when you walked into the studio. We learned. We improved. We had fun. At the beginning of my 8th grade year, Liz told me she knew I would have great year of dancing. And that was that. To have someone that was a professional in the space believe in me like that -- it was everything. And so I went to work. And she was right, it was one of the best years of dancing for me. As the years went on, there was a group of us that developed into Ewizzerbot's tribe. Monday night modern classes were my favorite part of the week, and there was such a real sense of camaraderie amongst the students, especially as we ended our cool down to Donny Hathaway's "Song For You". She introduced me to the rest of my already favorite company and ballet, Alvin Ailey's Revelations. My heart was always so full around Liz. She always gave me this knowing and reassuring look, and I knew everything would be okay. She was such a huge supporter, not just of me, but every single one of her students. She took the time to engage and interact with us, and she always had our best interests at heart. She taught me one of my favorite phrases to date, "No my first name ain't baby, it's Janet, Ms. Jackson if ya nasty!" She had an infectious laughter and positive energy around the studio. She taught me so many great dances to so many great songs that I still get up and dance to when they come on. "Falling Slowly", "Spanish Doll", "Gravity". She taught me about musicality. About using dance to express myself. How to use movement to evoke emotion. She taught me how to be an artist.

Deb Avery

How Long I've Known Her: 12 years

How I Met Her: Sunday School teacher at Vancouver Heights UMC

My affection for Deb Avery started when she handed me a cupcake during Sunday School almost 12 years ago, to the day. My mom had taken me to a new church, and it wasn't Christmas Eve, so I was a little irritated. But Deb knew the way to my heart was through my stomach, and I've loved the woman ever since. She taught me my first memorized and favorite Bible verse: "I am with you always" (Matthew 28:20). It resonated with me so much at the time that I was convinced Deb could read my mind. She just had (and still has) so much wisdom. I looked forward to Sunday School class as I got older just to listen to her thoughts and ideas. I remember one day I had had one of my first real arguments with my mom, and so had another girl in class, and Deb explained how as a mom, it's so jarring for your child, this human being that you literally created, raised, nurtured, and loved, to suddenly not understand or agree with you. And it just made sense. She was one of my biggest supporters at church. With everything. Even after I left for college, I knew she was cheering me on. She taught me that a hug can truly be healing. And that you can get a little crazy in college, because even your Sunday School teacher "spent a night praying to the porcelain goddess." (She also had to teach me that praying to the porcelain goddess meant puking in a toilet.) Most badass Sunday School teacher I've ever known!

Sue Koelhepp

How Long I've Known Her: 12 years

How I Met Her: Mentor at Vancouver Heights UMC
Sue is adept at so many subjects, which is why every time I had a new interest or hobby, I knew I could go straight to her and she would know all about it. First it was trombones. I started playing the trombone in my sixth grade band, and she had played it for a number of years. I consider biochemistry a career option during my sophomore year and that's been her job for forever. She was so invested in my growth, no matter what area. When I wanted to learn how to sing but was too scared, she pulled me over to the piano with the church pianist and made me sing. I am most grateful, however, that she taught me about tolerance, without even knowing it. How to love. How to be inclusive. After I had confirmed as a member of the church, she simply smiled and said "Welcome to the club". She was always full of inspiring words of wisdom.

Adele White 

How Long I've Known Her: 13 years

How I Met Her: Theater teacher/director at Vancouver School of Arts and Academics
If there was one word that Ms. White embodies, it is "Namaste". "I see the light in you." I met Ms. White during a summer arts camp I went to. It was there that she asked me to play a young child in "Fiddler on the Roof" at VSAA. That production taught me so much because Ms. White expected so much of us as performers. Once I arrived as a student at VSAA, I had Ms. White as my humanities teacher. She would end every single class with all of us standing at our chairs, palms pressed together, bowing towards each other, saying "Namaste". At the time, my impatient sixth-grade self was looking ahead to socializing with my friends at lunch. Looking back on it now, it was special. The most important part of the ritual was Ms. White making eye contact with each and every student. I can't quite remember if she ever verbalized this, but that moment of eye contact felt like her saying "I see you, and I acknowledge your existence," which in middle school, is crucial. She also kept it real with us. Unlike other teachers, she said she was human and would make mistakes, but she wouldn't let her pride get in the way of admitting that. She also told us when to check ourselves. I remember one time in particular, I had been at home complaining about how I wish I was in a higher level dance class, and the next day, Ms. White told our class about respecting the process of training. HOW DID SHE KNOW? And how was she so right? She is a woman full of love and spirit. She has a playful energy which makes working with her so fun. She is also the only person I actually like calling me "Fefe" (childhood nickname), because it is wrapped up in so much affection.

Shareefa Abdullah

How Long I've Known Her: 15 years

How I Met Her: Family friend/unsaid Mentor
Shareefa came into my life with a loud and unapologetic laugh. With sassiness. With confidence. She was exceptionally cool, yet accessible and understanding. She was one of my first black woman role models, and helped me celebrate black beauty. To feel good about my skin color, my hair, my being. She taught me about being brave and vivacious. She herself was incredibly bubbly and lively. I remember specifically her eyes and gestures being very animated. She awakened my sense of feminism and gender equality. We sat in a car with my mom, listening to Madonna's "What It Feels Like For A Girl." I wasn't aware of the inequities between genders in the third grade, but she had a strong attachment to the song and wanted to get my mom and my opinion. I probably didn't add anything to the conversation, but I liked listening to them discuss the topic. Shareefa was absorbed in thought, and it was the first time I saw her solemn and subdued. She also gave me career advice when I was still in elementary school, but it stuck. We were all at an art gallery (lol at fifth grade me rubbing elbows with artists?!) and I confided in her that I felt like I was interested in too many things that I wouldn't be able to pursue them all. She told me to make a chart with quadrants: 
1) one of things you're good at +  things you like 
2) one of things you're good at + things you don't like
3) one of things you're bad at +  things you like
4) one of things you're bad at + things you don't like
Then she said to focus on quadrant one, because that was the place where I could shine and also be passionate about what I was doing. I haven't talked to Shareefa in forever, but her advice and ideals come to me often.

Bev Melum

How Long I've Known Her: 16 years

How I Met Her: Dance teacher at Eleanor Roosevelt Elementary School
This woman inspired my college essay. She was my elementary school PE (and later dance) teacher and she changed everything. It was the end of my second grade year, and I was preparing to audition for the school talent show, and my mom and I were puzzled why the PE teacher would want to produce the talent show instead of the choir teacher or another arts teacher. What we learned after I did a fancy little tap number, was that she had been a professional dancer before she settled down as a teacher. WELL THEN. She gave me great feedback about working on the clarity of my taps and listening to rhythms. I was in awe of her. Her passion for dance was now very apparent. She was so loving, so caring, and so warm. During my time there, she never stopped pushing us students to do our absolute best in class, and she would always check-in with me after class to see how my outside dance classes were going. In 5th grade, she organized a dance performance for our school-wide Dr. MLK Jr. Day assembly. She sat us down and cued up a video of three men running around shirtless to a gospel/spiritual song, doing fierce leaps and turns. She introduced me to my favorite company, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and my favorite piece, Revelations. We choreographed our own interpretation of the dance, and I felt so empowered. She pulled me and my partner aside to give us tips and feedback because she knew we could go even further. I "graduated" and headed to middle school and high school, and never had a chance to meet up or see her again. I sort of strayed away from rigorously training as a dancer, and gave up my dreams of being a professional dancer. Then in October 2009, my mom called me and told me she had passed away, and I was devastated. Heartbroken. She was the first person I was really close to that had passed away. The majority of Vancouver and Portland's artistic community attended the funeral, and we all shared stories and grieved together. I was oddly comforted, just to know that everyone else loved her as much as I did, and would carry on her memory vividly. At the reception, two cherry cokes in, my best friend Aisha, my mom, and I were talking with a woman that Ms. Melum had worked with at some point. Aisha and I told her about our process of applying to college, and there was something in that moment, an overwhelming feeling that washed over me, and I can only assume it was Ms. Melum, that told me I had to pursue my dream of dancing. Why had I given up? It was something that made me so happy and I had worked so hard at. And that was it. My passion for dancing had been reignited, and it was all because of Ms. Melum and her love.

Wendi Woodburn

How Long I've Known Her: 16 years

How I Met Her: Best friend's mom, and mom's best friend
Wendi has been around since we moved to Vancouver, and she has kept me laughing and thinking since then. We share a bubbly and extroverted personality. We're always dancing in public, singing and rapping in the car, and giggling about boys, much to the eye rolls of Aisha (my best friend, her daughter), and my mom. Our mother-daughter foursome have shared so many memories, it's hard to recall them all. During my senior year of high school, I rewrote the lyrics and recorded my rendition of "Hey There Delilah" to ask my boyfriend to a school dance. It was incredibly off-key and spoken-sung for the most part. I wanted the foursome to hear it, so we all gathered in my car outside of an Applebee's where we had just eaten. Mama Fitz in the driver seat, Aisha sitting on my lap in the passenger, Wendi in the back, I crank it up, and we listen. Us three in the front share a few laughs, but we didn't hear a word from Wendi, which if you know Wendi at all, is very uncommon and quite honestly a little disturbing. We turn around and she is silently laughing so hard she is wheezing and can barely breathe. We, in turn, broke out in hysterics. Even though that song alone proved singing was not my strong point, Wendi has always supported and encouraged my dreams. When it came time to decide what I should focus on in college, she said to pursue performing because I should love what I'm doing and she didn't want me to grow old and have any regrets. It really resonated with me. She has always been a great cheerleader for me. She's the first one to share any articles I write, any dance videos I record, and blogs I post. She definitely makes me feel like I'm popular on Facebook, when I open it up to 40+ notifications and they are all from her. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and it motivates me to do more. Aside from her bubbly side, she has also made me think and reflect about what true happiness and optimism is. Most importantly, she's enlightened me about self-love and inner-peace.

Christie Nye

How Long I've Known Her: 16 years

How I Met Her: Worked with my mom at New Ventures

Christie shared an office with my mom when we first moved to the Pacific Northwest. She has always been cool, witty, and beautiful, but here's the kicker: she hasn't changed. 16 years and two kids later, she is still fly as hell. She also makes me not so scared to pass the age of 32. From where I'm sitting, it seems like the 30s and 40s are the deep, dark void where you can't have fun, be sexy, or whip out amazing comebacks because you're taking care of kids and adult things. Christie proves this wrong. She's also an incredibly selfless friend to my mom and has always believed in me. I spent a day with her floating in her pool before I headed off to college, and she told me something that has stuck with me since that day: "The first year of college is hard, for everyone. Everyone is missing home, so it's such an important time to stick together. If they act like they have it together, they're lying." She was right.

Nancye Beck

How Long I've Known Her: 20 years

How I Met Her: Worked with my mom at Sun Microsystems

Nancye gave me a taste of being a teenaged girl when I was six-years old. After hitting up "our spot" (Chevy's), we'd roll down the windows of her car and blast "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys and sing at the top of our lungs. She also indulged me in all of my dress-up and make-up tirades. We even bought bright purple lipstick once. We talked about bras. We liked the color purple and thought pansies were pretty. She tried to get me over my fear of dogs. Didn't happen, but she tried.

Wanda Brinlee

How Long I've Known Her: 23 years

How I Met Her: Another part of mom's TI squad

Wanda was a part of the infamous Texas Instruments group with my mom. She taught me "treat yo'self" before it was a Parks and Rec reference. From her energetic 50th birthday bash to my elegant 13th tea, Wanda taught me how to throw one hell of a party. I still try to mimic her hostess skills. Even when we were just lounging around at her house, she taught me how to appreciate spending time with the people you love. Her ability to enjoy life and live it to the fullest impresses me. Like when she gets a scandalous tattoo. And gushes about celeb crushes. She prepared me about middle school girl bitchery and then comforted me when I first experienced it. She was the first person to tell me about eBay. Also a shout out to both of her amazing daughters, Wendy and NeNe, who have been like two cool older sisters for as long as I can remember.

Gina de Miranda

How Long I've Known Her: 23 years

How I Met Her: Mom's best homie

Gina and my mom met way back in the 80s working at Texas Instruments together, and so Gina was present for most of my childhood, all of us moving between Texas and the West Coast. My mom and Gina were the first dynamic duo I was introduced to, and still one of my favorites. They were like Broad City but with two kids and charging the Silicon Valley battlefield of the 1990s. Their spunky independence is the foundation I grew up on. They taught me about empowering myself as a woman, and learning the difference between sexy and cheesy while looking at Victoria's Secret catalogues. Gina introduced me to so many movies that I still love. She pardoned my bad kid behavior by saying I had an evil twin named "Adriana". She taught me how to tell a good story, through the dozens of stories she and my mom told me and her son about my Barbies going adventures. She'd laugh at my jokes and applaud at my impromptu dance performances. She didn't even get mad when she awoke to her son Diego and I laying all of my plastic toy food on her as she slept off a fever in bed. After a stint on the East Coast, Gina found her way back to the West Coast, and we were able to rekindle our relationship exactly when I needed it. She guided me through the break up I never thought I'd get through. She was always ready for a phone call with the perfect advice, the perfect jokes, and the perfect dose of reality. I'm forever grateful for being able to witness her intelligence, her creativity, and her warmth. Cool girls 4ever~*