The Honey Hive

A Different World It Is Not By: Honey B. Baker
So this morning I woke up to read that the president of the illustrious Hampton University released a letter disparaging BET’s new drama, The Quad. The Quad is set at the fictional Georgia Agricultural and Mechanical University, an HBCU that is currently embroiled in financial turmoil.
I am a harsh critic of anything that portrays the HBCU or Greek life experience, as I am a product of both. I am a proud graduate of Elizabeth City State University and I am also a proud member of Delta Sigma Theta, Incorporated. Time after time I have seen both of these experiences bastardized and sold for parts (looking at you, Stomp The Yard). HBCUs are more than their flashy bands and historically black sororities and fraternities are more than their steps, chants, and colors. But I digress...

I Was #HurtBae
By: Honey B. Baker
Last night as I was social media stalking I came across a video with the headline, “Girlfriend confronts boyfriend about cheating.” Hmmm, I saw that the video was the six minutes and at first my short attention span said, “Nah” but then again I was intrigued.
Kourtney and Leonard’s love story started out like most people’s love story does: boy meets girl. However, like many love stories theirs’ soon fell apart. What struck me so much about their conversation were the similarities between that a conversation I had with an old flame last year, someone who I had sadly loved deeper than he ever deserved.

You Are The Prize By: Honey
I have a horrible habit of losing all my good sense when I’m feeling a dude. I compromise my standards and go out my way to appease him. This is part of the reason why I removed myself from the dating scene. I needed to reevaluate how I handle becoming emotionally involved with someone. I’ve realized this during my reflection period, I didn’t realize I was the prize and I took for granted what I naturally bring to the table. I have this habit of bending over backwards to please the men I want to be with to prove myself “worthy” of them. I’d cook, come when called, go watch them coach their team, listen to their horrible beats and tell them they were good, and the list goes on and on. Shit, some times I felt like I was putting on my track cleats and chasing. I realized my actions were rooted in deep insecurity, a fear of loneliness, and lack of self-love. My insecurities were rooted in my self-perceived inadequacies. I didn’t think I was pretty enough, exciting…