"Beyoncé: She's No Ashanti" is what then New York Times journalist and music critic Kelefa Sanneh wrote in 2003 describing his disappointment by Beyoncé's debut album.
It's 10:30 a.m. on a Tuesday in November of 2013 when Shanita gets the phone call.
Nearly three months earlier, unable to clear painful pressure in her head after a flight descend, she went to the doctor suspecting a sinus infection, which might explain the small nodule that had developed on her nose. The doctor examined her and did a biopsy of the nodule.
I'm in a unique space that puts me smack dab between my peers getting married remarried, divorced, and inhabiting spaces in between.
My friends are expanding their families and, to my surprise at how fast time flies, a couple of my slightly-older-than-me peers are experiencing the birth of their first grandchildren.
I'm seeing it all. Most important, I'm hearing it all. And for a while, it effected me.
Picture the scene.
I'm at an offsite office party somewhere downtown, eating, drinking and chatting with co-workers.
One of my colleagues begins discussing her impending divorce. Another lends his support--having gone through a couple of divorces himself--by assuring her of all the positive things she can expect to experience when the legal proceedings are final.
"You'll be better off. You'll have more peace. And you'll find that you'll have more money," he says.