AYEDNICOLE

The real truth on Tia Coleman & Her Jacksonville Baby mama Influence and Lying for Law

Popularity Suppression, Professional Reinvention, and Why Education Should Never Become a Weapon

By Adrienne Floyd

There is an elephant in the room that I have avoided addressing publicly for years: the deterioration of what I once understood to be a friendship between Tia Coleman and me.

I met Tia around 2009, when I was a magnet student attending Lee High School in Jacksonville, Florida. At that age, I was navigating an environment very different from the one I knew at home. I came from Jacksonville’s Southside and a structured two-parent household shaped heavily by my father’s military career and my mother’s professional example.

Lee itself represented an interesting duality. There were rigorous academic opportunities—advanced coursework, magnet programming, dual enrollment, AP and IB pathways—alongside social dynamics that sometimes felt dramatically different from the disciplined environment I knew at home.

Tia and I eventually became what I understood to be friends.

That understanding matters.

Years later, during our connection to Florida A&M University, I publicly supported Tia. When she was featured in The FAMUAN, I participated and spoke positively about her. I offered words reflecting what I believed about her character at that point in my life.

Today, I regret lending my name so confidently to that characterization.

My regret is not because another Black woman pursued education, leadership, motherhood, entrepreneurship or eventually law. It concerns discernment. I learned that publicly vouching for someone’s character is consequential, particularly when your name remains attached to those statements years after your understanding of that person has fundamentally changed.

When Friendship Becomes Comparison

Throughout adolescence and young adulthood, I increasingly perceived tension within our relationship surrounding appearance, attention from men, social circles, family backgrounds and the different ways we moved through Black spaces.

Some of those experiences also forced me to confront colorism.

Colorism is an established social phenomenon, but I cannot responsibly declare another person’s private motivations simply because we are Black women of different complexions. What I can document is how I experienced certain interactions: moments when friendship seemed intertwined with comparison, when male attention appeared to intensify existing tension, and when I began questioning whether someone I considered a friend actually viewed me through a competitive lens.

Evidence and inference are not the same thing.

I can speak to conversations I participated in, conduct I personally observed, statements made directly to me, records that exist and decisions I personally made. Where motive is concerned, however, I can identify my perception without presenting speculation as a verdict.

That is growth.

Politics, Leadership and What I Thought We Were Learning

Tia and I moved through overlapping political and leadership mentorship environments at FAMU. I believed those experiences were supposed to prepare young Black students for futures in leadership, politics, service and professional responsibility.

As I matured, however, I began interpreting our experiences very differently.

My Christian upbringing taught me the Baptist principle of turning the other cheek. I valued restraint. I did not believe every provocation deserved retaliation, every disagreement deserved a public spectacle or every interpersonal conflict deserved escalation.

Eventually, I came to believe that my restraint was sometimes mistaken for permission to continue crossing boundaries.

There is a difference between grace and silence.

There is also a difference between leadership and popularity.

The FAMU Jacksonville Club

That distinction became particularly important during my involvement with the FAMU Jacksonville Club.

At the time, I served as vice president. I believed Tia possessed stronger leadership visibility because she was better known socially, and I trusted that visibility enough to support her serving as president.

Meanwhile, I worked heavily on the organization’s infrastructure. I prepared foundational materials and paperwork and believed we were collectively creating something meaningful that could strengthen the bridge between Jacksonville and Florida A&M University.

That experience eventually became one of the earliest moments when I began questioning my judgment.

There was money associated with shirts, dues and organizational activities. My recollection is that the amount involved exceeded $1,000, although surviving financial records should determine the precise figure.

I have longstanding concerns about how those funds were handled. I specifically allege that money collected for club purposes was not handled in the manner I understood it was supposed to be handled, and I had concerns involving Tia Coleman and Tony Gohard. I also suspected at the time that some funds may have intersected with party-promotion activities.

I am intentionally using the words allege, suspected, recollection and concerns because those distinctions matter. Unless accounting records establish where every dollar went, I will not convert my suspicion into an adjudicated fact.

Another incident involved campaign snacks intended for Anaya Jackson, Darius Bowers, me and my best friend Cameron Jones. My recollection is that we attempted to retrieve those materials from Tia’s residence while simultaneously receiving information suggesting that she was unavailable or outside the country.

The question that stayed with me was simple:

How did the materials become inaccessible inside the residence during the same period in which we were being told she was unavailable?

That question contributed to my loss of trust.

The “Hoodratism” I Am Actually Critiquing

I use the word “hoodratism” deliberately in this series, but I am not using poverty, Blackness, single-parent households or a particular ZIP code as synonyms for poor character.

My criticism is behavioral.

“Hoodratism,” as I use the term, describes a mentality in which gossip becomes social currency, romantic competition becomes justification for hostility, humiliation replaces communication and unresolved interpersonal grievances are carried from adolescence into adulthood.

A person can come from money and exhibit it.

A person can come from public housing and reject it completely.

Class does not determine integrity.

That distinction became increasingly important as I matured beyond Jacksonville, graduated from Florida A&M University, completed graduate business education, entered corporate finance, built businesses and eventually began considering legal education.

The older I became, the less interested I was in proving that I belonged—or did not belong—to somebody else’s social hierarchy.

I wanted a career.

I wanted education.

I wanted ownership.

And eventually, I wanted law.

Manifesting Over Mimosas and the Difference Between Aesthetics and Impact

Years later, I observed another project associated with Tia: Manifesting Over Mimosas.

From the outside, the concept could photograph beautifully. Black women networking. Entrepreneurship. Aspirational imagery. Tables. Vendors. Empowerment.

But aesthetics and economic impact are not synonymous.

My criticism comes partly from what I personally observed while volunteering and interacting with business owners. I remember older vendors sitting behind tables, tired and waiting for meaningful engagement. Some expressed disappointment about what they believed they received in exchange for participating and paying vendor-related costs.

Those experiences caused me to ask a broader question that extends beyond one organizer:

Are we creating economic ecosystems for Black businesses, or are we creating photographs that resemble economic ecosystems?

Grassroots economic development requires more than attractive branding. Vendors should have a meaningful opportunity to introduce their products, build clientele and justify the resources they invest in participating.

That is the standard against which I evaluate community programming.

“Fancy Cash,” “I Am the Prize,” and the Image I Questioned

Public branding can tell one story while private experiences tell another.

The imagery surrounding phrases such as “Fancy Cash” and “I Am the Prize” represented, to me, an emphasis on presentation and personal elevation. My experiences led me to question whether the public-facing image aligned with the interpersonal conduct I remembered.

That is my interpretation—not an objective verdict on another person’s worth.

But it contributed to a larger lesson:

Professional credentials do not automatically resolve old character conflicts.

Law school does not erase history.

Neither does entrepreneurship, political involvement, motherhood, social-media branding or a polished professional photograph.

Sisterhood, Rejection and the Reinvention I Observed

Another layer of this history involves Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated.

I was selected for membership in Alpha Kappa Alpha during my collegiate experience. Tia was not. Over the years, I came to perceive that difference as another source of tension between us. From my perspective, what I experienced felt like jealousy surrounding not only membership, but the sisterhood, recognition and trajectory that came with it.

I cannot state what existed privately in Tia’s mind.

I can state what I observed afterward and why the pattern mattered to me.

What concerned me was what I perceived as an ongoing cycle: interpersonal conflict, attempts at reinvention, professional advancement and then a polished presentation to Jacksonville that seemed disconnected from the conduct I remembered.

To me, Manifesting Over Mimosas became part of that reinvention. The manifesting was clear. But manifestation does not erase history, and branding cannot substitute for accountability.

That is where I began recognizing what I considered mind games. Someone can create a beautiful public image while people who knew them before that image existed remember a much more complicated history.

Family Influence, Policing and the Limits of My Interpretation

I have also questioned whether some of the conflict-management behaviors I observed were influenced by Tia’s upbringing, including having a mother who worked in law enforcement.

I want to be precise here. I cannot responsibly attribute Tia’s conduct to her mother merely because her mother was an officer, nor can I establish that her mother’s profession caused particular behavior.

What I can discuss is why the dynamic concerned me.

My perception was that I was dealing with someone who understood how authority, relationships, information and competing sides of a conflict could operate simultaneously. Over time, I felt that those skills were sometimes being applied socially—not to resolve conflict, but to control narratives and suppress people who challenged them.

Whether my interpretation of the origin is correct is separate from the behavior I personally experienced.

The Hair Order and Why Logistics Matter

There was another experience involving a mutual acquaintance that sharpened my awareness of how ordinary business logistics can become complicated when personal relationships overlap with commerce.

I ordered hair from someone who knew Tia and had worked with her during the development of her brand.

My order never arrived.

Yet the transaction was marked completed.

Those are the facts as I remember them: I placed an order, I expected merchandise, the system reflected completion, and I did not receive what I purchased.

Because the seller had a relationship with Tia, I questioned whether the situation was connected to the larger interpersonal history surrounding me. But proximity is not proof of coordination. Unless evidence establishes communication or intentional interference, I cannot state that Tia caused the problem or that the seller acted on her behalf.

Still, the experience taught me something useful for business and eventually law:

Logistics leave records.

Orders have confirmations. Payments have transaction histories. Shipments have tracking numbers. Delivery claims can be compared against carrier records.

When interpersonal suspicion enters a commercial dispute, documentation is what separates an inference from something capable of being established.

The Campaign Snacks and the Motherhood Image

My recollection concerning the campaign snacks remains particularly frustrating because it intersects with the public presentation of motherhood that I later observed.

I remember campaign materials and snacks becoming inaccessible and our attempts to retrieve them. I remember the explanations surrounding Tia’s availability not making sense to me at the time.

That experience contributed substantially to my distrust.

I have previously characterized that incident as Tia “stealing campaign snacks for her own kids.” For publication, the more precise statement is this: that was my conclusion about what happened based upon the circumstances I observed, but unless documentation establishes where those items ultimately went, it remains my allegation rather than an adjudicated fact.

That distinction does not require me to suddenly support the image being presented to me.

I do not.

I do not have to endorse someone’s presentation as a polished representative for single mothers simply because that presentation exists. I am entitled to say that my personal experiences with that individual make the image difficult for me to reconcile.

Likewise, I do not have to continue trying to see eye to eye with someone simply because she pursued legal education.

When the Internet Revealed Another Connection

My concerns intensified when I discovered what appeared to me to be an association between Tia and Jude, whom I knew through the complicated social orbit surrounding a former boyfriend and his later relationship.

Tweets on Twitter—now X—appeared to show interactions between them that included joking and conversational banter.

I cannot state what private conversations occurred between two other people merely because public interactions existed. Nor does an online association itself establish conspiracy, sabotage or malicious intent.

What I can say is that discovering the connection affected me.

Given the history I already perceived between Tia and me, seeing her interact with someone connected to another emotionally complicated chapter of my life made me question whether people from separate parts of my past were communicating about me.

If archived posts remain available, they can speak for themselves regarding what was actually written. Anything beyond those posts should remain identified as my interpretation unless additional evidence establishes otherwise.

Popularity Suppression

The phrase I use for what I felt over these years is popularity suppression.

By that, I mean the experience of feeling that social familiarity, relationships, mutual acquaintances and reputation could be leveraged to control whose version of events received credibility.

Popularity can become a shield.

Being known does not make someone right.

Being quieter does not make someone wrong.

And the person who prepares the paperwork, builds the infrastructure, stays behind the scenes or chooses not to fight publicly should not automatically become invisible because someone else commands the room more effectively.

That lesson has followed me from Jacksonville to FAMU, into corporate America, entrepreneurship and now toward my prospective legal education.

Do Not Contact My Mother to Silence My Voice

More recently, Tia contacted my mother after I publicly expressed disagreements concerning our history.

That decision reinforced why I wanted to clarify my position myself.

I am an adult. My mother does not author my commentary, control my professional opinions or speak on my behalf. Contacting a parent does not resolve a disagreement between two grown women.

I am also intentionally separating myself from an older article in which I once publicly supported Tia.

I do not want a prospective legal career to create the impression that those historical statements continue to represent my present assessment.

They do not.

I supported someone whom I then considered a friend.

My perspective changed.

I have the right to say that.

But having a voice also creates responsibility for how I use it.

Motherhood Is Not the Offense

The title Baby Mama Vengeance in Law School is deliberately provocative, but motherhood itself is not my indictment.

A woman becoming a mother young does not make her unintelligent, unethical, unsuccessful or incapable of becoming an attorney.

A woman delaying motherhood does not automatically make her morally superior.

My criticism concerns something different:

No woman should weaponize education, professional status, romantic history or motherhood against another woman because their timelines differ.

I have consciously chosen to approach childbearing differently. I want education, professional infrastructure, financial stability and intentional planning to precede motherhood in my own life.

That is my standard for my life.

Another Black woman’s motherhood is not evidence against her character.

Likewise, my decision to delay motherhood should never become grounds for resentment, ridicule or an attempt to slow my trajectory.

Black women already carry enough social judgment surrounding marriage, fertility, motherhood, education, complexion, class and career. We do not advance ourselves by reproducing those hierarchies against one another.

Law Cannot Become the “Mean Girl Remake”

What concerns me most is when education appears to become part of a reinvention without the interpersonal accountability that should accompany growth.

A law-school admission, legal education, professional photograph, community event or carefully constructed brand does not automatically resolve what happened before it.

This is where I describe the dynamic as the “Miss Mean Girl remake.”

That phrase represents my perception of someone attempting to move into a new professional chapter while I still remember unresolved experiences from the previous chapters.

But there is an important challenge embedded in that criticism for me as well.

If I am going to criticize someone for using legal education as a weapon, then I cannot weaponize my own prospective legal education against her.

I have to do something harder.

I have to document.

I have to distinguish what I know from what I suspect.

I have to separate a missing hair order from an allegation of coordinated sabotage unless evidence connects them. I have to separate sorority rejection from my perception of jealousy unless someone actually communicates that motive. I have to distinguish disputed organizational funds from proven theft. And I have to discuss someone’s mother only where her own conduct is independently relevant rather than making a daughter legally or morally responsible for a parent’s profession.

That is not me backing away from my story.

That is me learning how to tell it with discipline.

The Bible, the Oath and the Standard

My faith is also why this history troubles me.

Putting one’s hand on a Bible, entering law school or eventually earning a professional credential does not itself establish integrity.

Integrity is demonstrated through conduct.

That standard applies to Tia.

It applies to me.

And it applies to anyone seeking entry into a profession built around advocacy, evidence and responsibility.

I once tried repeatedly to find common ground with Tia Coleman.

I no longer feel obligated to do so.

I do not stand behind her.

I do not reaffirm the character assessment I gave years ago.

And I do not want my previous public support interpreted as an endorsement of conduct, professional values or representations that developed afterward.

If someone takes an oath associated with the legal profession, I believe the expectation should be larger than aesthetics. It should involve honesty, accountability, restraint and respect for evidence.

Those are also the standards I intend to apply to myself.

Why I Am Writing Before Law School

I am a prospective law-school applicant. I am not presenting myself as a law student or attorney.

That distinction is intentional.

I am writing now because I refuse to enter another chapter of education carrying an outdated public association that no longer reflects my judgment.

I once publicly supported Tia Coleman.

I no longer offer that endorsement.

But distancing myself from that endorsement does not require me to become what I criticize.

I do not need to declare unproven allegations to be convictions.

I do not need to attack someone’s child.

I do not need to demean Black mothers.

I do not need to convert complexion or socioeconomic background into character evidence.

If I am serious about law, then evidence must matter even when I am angry.

That may be the greatest lesson this relationship ever gave me.

Lessons From the Tia Coleman Story

After everything, I can still say that this chapter taught me something.

Lesson One: Thou Shall Not Steal

Whether we are talking about money, property, someone’s work, somebody’s peace, their opportunities or credit that does not belong to you, integrity starts with understanding what is yours and what is not.

Where allegations are disputed, evidence must ultimately determine what occurred. But the principle I carry forward is simple:

Do not take what does not belong to you.

Lesson Two: Do Not Exploit the Black Community—or Children—for an Image

One of my strongest lessons is that community service should actually serve the community.

I have serious concerns about any nonprofit or community-centered event where Black people are asked to spend money while the economic benefit, charitable purpose or community impact is unclear. In my experience with Manifesting Over Mimosas, questions surrounding vendor participation and charges—including what I understood to be charges associated with mimosas—made me think critically about the difference between community service and community aesthetics.

Those questions should be answered through records: What organization collected the money? What was the stated purpose? What did vendors pay? What did attendees receive? Where did proceeds go? What nonprofit entity, if any, was involved?

The same principle applies to children.

Children should never become props in adult conflicts, branding strategies or professional reinvention.

Adults can teach children difficult lessons about accountability, resilience and consequences without pulling them into adult grudges or using their experiences to justify hurting somebody else.

Children deserve protection from grown people’s mess.

Lesson Three: Enjoy Your Twenties and Make Motherhood Your Own Decision

Do not rush motherhood because you believe adulthood requires it.

Enjoy your twenties.

Graduate. Work. Travel. Build something. Learn yourself. Make mistakes that do not involve another human being depending upon you. Establish financial independence and decide what motherhood means for your life.

Children should never be viewed as financial strategies, relationship security or pathways to somebody else’s resources.

Go work.

Build the career. Build the business. Get the degree. Make your own money.

That is the standard I have chosen for myself.

Lesson Four: Education Does Not Give You Permission to Be Nasty

Do not spend years creating hostility around someone and then believe entering law school automatically cleans the slate.

Do not use education as intimidation.

Do not use professional networks as weapons.

Do not use mutual acquaintances to continue personal conflicts.

Do not use children as extensions of adult disputes.

And do not carry what I personally experienced as a hate campaign into spaces supposedly designed to teach advocacy, ethics and justice.

Law should sharpen your ability to reason—not sharpen your ability to hurt people.

I Won’t Enter Law School With an Unclean Heart

This may be the most important lesson.

I cannot determine the condition of Tia Coleman’s heart. God can handle that.

I can determine the condition of mine.

I will not enter law school consumed with vengeance.

I will not enter trying to become the woman I criticize.

I will not need somebody else’s downfall to validate my success.

I can tell my story, preserve my documentation, correct an old endorsement, acknowledge what remains allegation rather than proven fact, and eventually put the file down.

Her children are not responsible for whatever happened between adults, and I will not make judgments about what kind of mother they deserve. My prayer is simply that every child involved in complicated adult circumstances receives love, stability, guidance and positive role models.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

My story is not that one woman went to law school and therefore became righteous, nor that another woman plans to attend law school and therefore became superior.

The lesson is simpler:

Education should refine character—not become camouflage for unresolved behavior.

I can acknowledge that I once supported someone.

I can acknowledge that subsequent experiences changed my perception.

I can document what I personally witnessed.

I can identify what I allege.

I can preserve records.

I can challenge conduct.

And I can move forward without allowing an old friendship, an old article, an old boyfriend, an old campus organization, sorority membership, motherhood or somebody else’s professional trajectory to define mine.

I do not need to enter law school beneath anyone’s shadow.

I intend to enter under my own name.

Adrienne Floyd.

And this time, when my name is attached to a statement about character and fitness, I understand exactly how much that signature means.

And as for what this chapter taught me personally?

I’m glad she taught me that lesson.

She can’t teach me shit else.

— AyeDNicole

Author’s Legal & Editorial Notice

This essay constitutes personal commentary based on Adrienne Floyd’s recollections, experiences, opinions and interpretations. References to suspected financial misuse, missing organizational property, interpersonal motives, jealousy, organizational conduct, commercial transactions, online associations, alleged suppression, nonprofit or event practices, or other disputed events are allegations, recollections, questions or interpretations unless independently established through records or other reliable evidence.

References to Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated, Florida A&M University, law schools, organizations, businesses or other institutions do not imply that those institutions endorse the author’s conclusions.

No reference to motherhood, children, race, complexion, socioeconomic background, religion, sorority membership or non-membership, educational institution, neighborhood or family background is intended to establish wrongdoing by itself.

Where contemporaneous documents, financial records, archived social-media posts, transaction records, shipping information, organizational materials, event records or other primary evidence exist, those materials should control over recollection regarding specific dates, amounts, quotations and events.

Readers should distinguish documented events from the author’s interpretation of those events.