AYEDNICOLE

Another issue I have with the Black community in Jacksonville is this:

Jacksonville has put up rappers over time that, in my opinion, cannot come nowhere near what Atlanta, Houston, D.C. and other major Black cultural cities have been able to cultivate.

Yet because AyeDNicole reps Jacksonville as a military brat, somehow I’m the one who gets shunned?

That is stupid.

You cannot complain that your city doesn’t receive the cultural respect of Atlanta or Houston while simultaneously pushing away people who have enough outside exposure to bring different ideas back into the city.

And that is exactly why I go so hard for Atlanta.

What I experienced offline in Atlanta does not need to be marketed for it to have happened.

Read that again.

Everything meaningful does not require a post.

WE HAVE LOST THE ART OF HAVING A LIFE WE DON’T IMMEDIATELY POST

We have lost the art of retaining our life moments.

Some experiences are supposed to sit with you.

Some experiences are supposed to mature.

Some experiences make sense five years later.

Some experiences become music.

Some become papers.

Some become literature.

Some become business decisions.

Some become lessons you eventually articulate for Black and Brown people—and provide clarity to whites, Euro-Hispanics, Asians and others who may genuinely want to understand our experiences rather than dismantle or misinterpret us.

But all this posting shit has convinced people that if they didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

That’s dangerous.

Because now people don’t simply document their lives.

They perform their lives in real time.

And sometimes you need to shut the camera off long enough to understand what the hell just happened to you.

“I POST WHEN I GET TIME.”

That’s me.

I post when I get time.

Right now, I’m working on me.

I’m working.

I’m working on my family relationships.

I’m building businesses.

I’m developing music.

I’m thinking about education.

I’m organizing my future.

I’m handling other important things that honestly you all don’t need to see.

And you don’t need to see me doing what every other rap girl does either.

There are enough airheads in rap right now for you to goo-goo-ga-ga at.

Respectfully.

When you come over to the AyeDNicole page, when you listen to her music, when you visit her websites, when you look at her empire, and when you hear about her ties with P.R.E. and her personal experiences with Key Glock, understand something:

You are entering the AyeDNicole ecosystem.

You’re not coming over here to get Megan Thee Stallion.

You’re not coming over here to get Latto.

You’re not coming over here to get GloRilla.

You’re not coming over here for another rap-girl aesthetic that feels interchangeable with everything else already sitting on your timeline.

You’re getting AyeDNicole.

The MBA.

The businesswoman.

The fitness entrepreneur.

The label executive.

The writer.

The future Juris Doctor candidate.

The military brat.

The FAMU graduate.

The woman influenced by Atlanta.

The woman connected to Jacksonville.

The woman raised in Memphis before Jacksonville

The woman who was born in Charleston, from a thoroughbred military dad and beautiful Mississippi Southern Belle.

And yes—

the rapper. So I guess I am the Charleston National Treasure with Memphis and Atlanta roots, 4 DA 904.

STOP EXPECTING EVERY FEMALE RAPPER TO SELL YOU THE SAME WOMAN

That’s another problem with modern rap consumption.

People claim they want originality and then become uncomfortable when a woman doesn’t package herself according to the existing template.

Every female rapper does not need the same rollout.

The same poses.

The same aesthetic.

The same captions.

The same relationships.

The same level of access to her private life.

The same personality.

The same definition of femininity.

The same musical influences.

Or the same relationship with social media.

If you want those women, their pages are available.

Go support them.

But when you enter my ecosystem, don’t become confused because the woman you’re looking at has interests outside the booth.

My difference isn’t an accident.

It’s the point.

NOW NICKI… GIRL. COME SIT DOWN BECAUSE WE NEED TO TALK.

Now Nicki Minaj?

Nicki is that girl.

Let’s establish that before somebody gets confused.

I love her.

She has inspired me.

There are lessons I have taken from watching her navigate hip-hop, womanhood, loyalty, boundaries and what it means for a woman to maintain herself inside an industry dominated by everybody else’s expectations.

But I also know how to separate Nicki from Onika.

Admiration doesn’t require intellectual surrender.

And whew, girl…

I have questions about some of the political affiliations and appearances you’ve made.

I am taking my time with the Nicki article specifically because there are so many good things I want to discuss about her influence on me.

But baby…

It’s a lot.

As a Black woman who has personally experienced job loss, I pay close attention to political decisions affecting employment, economic stability and working families. So seeing someone who has influenced me appearing alongside Donald Trump gives me questions about what policies and outcomes she believes those relationships can produce.

That doesn’t erase what Nicki’s art meant to me.

It means I’m grown enough to admire somebody without outsourcing my political thinking to them.

NICKI, IF WE’RE SITTING WITH PRESIDENT TRUMP, I NEED SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED

Now, if President Trump signs off on legislation that materially addresses issues affecting people like me and her (i.e BLACK PEOPLE)—and if there were ever a room where Nicki, Trump and somebody like me could actually sit down and discuss what working Black women, entrepreneurs, artists and families are experiencing—then that’s a substantive conversation.

Because that’s how I approach politics.

Not:

Who took the picture?

I want to know:

What is the policy?

What does the legislation actually say?

Who qualifies?

Who benefits?

Who doesn’t?

How does it affect employment?

How does it affect Black women?

How does it affect entrepreneurs?

How does it affect education?

That’s the conversation I’m interested in.

Then maybe, Nicki, you could make me buy your shoes.

Although—

Girl.

I got a big foot too and the toes stay painted boo.

LMFAOOOOOOOOOO.

I am literally cackling while writing this.

And before anybody starts:

I KNOW NICKI WASN’T TALKING ABOUT ME.

My foot is big because I’m tall, my dad is taller than my mama lol, and I guess having Afro-German descent traits snuck in for me, so hey, I’m not lying on my mama either. I need to figure out if Myiah a size 10, but I think she’s a 9, idk that girl be in her own lane to chy lol.

So that’s that.

😂

THAT’S ACTUALLY THE POINT: I CAN LOVE SOMEBODY AND STILL THINK

That little Nicki tangent actually demonstrates the entire purpose of this article.

I can love an artist and still ask questions.

I can be influenced without becoming a clone.

I can disagree without pretending everything somebody ever taught me suddenly disappeared.

I can separate art from politics, inspiration from imitation, and admiration from agreement.

That’s what independent thinking looks like.

And that’s exactly what I want from the artists coming behind me.

Don’t become another AyeDNicole.

Learn something from AyeDNicole.

Then go become yourself.

That’s paving the way.