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Celebrating My Birthday Month & Homeownership at a Mansion

April is coming to an end. Stealing December’s moniker: it’s the most wonderful time of the year.

My birth month.

Yup. Month. Not just birthday.

Yes, I am one of those. Is it a Taurus thing?

I come from a family where birthdays are a big deal. We don’t celebrate all month, but it’s acknowledged. Children get new outfits for school, if it falls on a school day. While the party is pushed to the weekend, a small cake may be cut the day of.

Adults get new threads, too. Most of us take the day off from work. I take off the twenty-second and the twenty-third—the anniversary of a near-fatal car crash 20 years ago.

Perhaps that’s when I started the foolery of celebrating all month long. Justifying purchases by saying, “It’s my birthday month.”

A few years ago, I started taking solo birthday trips. DC, Salt Lake City, Houston. Last year, I was in the midst of purchasing my home, so I had to stay put. For my staycation, I rented a Brooklyn hotel room, so I wouldn’t be home-home.

There, in my overcharged room, I had visions of waking up the following year in my new home, as a homeowner.

Betcha by golly wow! Shout out to The Stylistics and Prince. I did it.

Last Wednesday, I woke up in my one-bedroom co-op in Brooklyn, one of three apartments I viewed the day after my birthday last year. It was also about a week after I learned I lost another.

This month also marks my sixth-month anniversary of homeownership.

I was hours behind schedule for my road trip to the Poconos, not because I’d been fielding birthday calls but because I hadn’t finished packing. The night before, while folding laundry, I fell asleep. I woke up on my couch, on my laundry.

Selling my car when I moved to Brooklyn nearly 17 years ago was mainly a financial reason. NYC is a pedestrian-friendly city. Public transportation easily takes you everywhere. Just pack a book and headphones. Massachusetts drivers are called Massholes, but I couldn’t see myself dealing with the road rage of aggressive New Yorkers.

I keep my license current to drive when I go home to Boston, but those drives are short. Picking up and dropping off my aunt at work so I can use her car to make my rounds to visit other family members. Older Haitians don’t give a damn about my plans. I’m often tasked with store runs or going to another family member’s house to pick up or drop off something, often food.

I’m good and grown but can’t say no.

I missed long drives when I could play music and think. Only recently did it dawn on me that I can rent a car and go on a road trip…as the driver. Sounds obvious, but the thought never entered my head. Family members do it all the time. My brother and I rented a U-Haul in November to transport my mother’s dining table and chandelier to my home.

My credit card has been on fire for the past few months and will continue to be for the next few, so I didn’t think it fiscally responsible to take a birthday trip.

Who was I kidding? It’s my birthday.

The Poconos has been on my Life To-Do List for a while. It was a sign when a friend went to a Black woman-owned Bed & Breakfast in the Poconos—the same one I’d been eyeing, but thought unattainable to me. I learned about it after visiting the sister Bed-Stuy Akwaaba mansion several times for book events hosted by Kweli Journal.

We make money to spend it. I booked the Mansion at Noble Lane in Pennsylvania. Not wanting to be restricted by Amtrak’s schedule, I hopped on Expedia to rent a car. They gave me a gray Toyota Carolla. My second and last car was a Carolla.

My first was a Honda Civic. BST. Blood, Sweat and Tears. I worked multiple jobs the summer between freshman and sophomore years of college to buy that hoopty. She got me from points A to B until I crashed her into a guardrail after hitting black ice. I couldn’t afford the repair costs and had to let her go.

Next rental will be an SUV. I’m used to being up high in my aunts’ Jeeps. My father had a Cherokee when I was a kid. I don’t know how I would’ve maneuvered through the tight Holland Tunnel (my first time!) in an SUV, but an SUV might’ve prevented me from blasting into the 80s. Several times I was doing 60 mph in a 45 or 80+ in a 55 without even knowing it. Grateful I never saw flashing lights in the rearview mirror.

Pulling up to the grounds of The Mansion at Noble Lane was breathtaking. Down south, it would’ve been a plantation. The treelined road gave way to the beautiful, white mansion. I nearly burst into tears.

Monique, the proprietress, had a beautiful salt-and-pepper side-parted afro. I introduced myself with an extended hand.

“I’m a hugger,” rejecting my hand and pulling me in. Tears threatened to fall again.

She called me out on arriving hours after my proclaimed 4 pm arrival.

“Yeah…I had a bit of a late start.” I didn’t leave home for my 11 am car pickup until nearly 1 pm.

She lived in Bed-Stuy (my old hood) when she wasn’t at the Mansion. My visits to the Brooklyn location was among the topics of discussion as she gave me a tour through the dining room, theater room, puzzle room, sitting rooms, elevator, sauna, ballroom, spa, tennis court, and other amenities.

Knowing it was my birthday, she upgraded my small, but lovely, corner room to an even bigger and lovelier room with views of the poolhouse. Room 204’s bathroom was larger than my apartment’s.

During “orientation,” Monique told me about nearby restaurant Native, where I could have my birthday dinner.

I’m neither a planner, nor researcher. I’m also spoiled by NYC hours. I emerged from my room after 8:30. The restaurant closed at 8. Monique had called and texted me. My phone was on vibrate while I luxuriated under the rain showerhead and made the bathroom walls sweat.

Monique was more disappointed than I was that I wouldn’t be able to show off my birthday ‘fit: a black and white tweed patchwork asymmetrical gigot long-sleeve blouse paired with navy pants. Instead of my usual Converse, I donned black patent-leather heels. I did look good. She was my photographer for a photoshoot in different rooms.

Thanks to the hair appointment before mine running three hours over the night before, my hair was styled in simple double French braids. Two side braids led into them, and two braids adorned with large and small wooden beads hung down my chest.

Monique Googled nearby restaurants and bars so I could pick up dinner. We struck out with most. I was unfazed.

I spent more time trying to connect my phone’s Bluetooth to the car than the eight-minute drive to Twisted Rail Tavern. It claimed it was connected, but the map wasn’t appearing onscreen in the car. I’d had the same issue during rental pick-up. In my frustration, I had the attendant fix the issue rather than teach me. Somehow, I did it, but in the short time it took me to run into the bar, everything had reset, so once again I sat in the car and struggled.

I have no sense of direction. I need GPS.

Not to sound bougie, but I’m used to cars having GPS, not having to connect via Bluetooth. Hell, I was ecstatic when I upgraded to a smart TV and retired my ChromeCast.

Monique ate a wrap I picked up, and I had terrible wings in the theater room while watching true crime on ID Channel. I surmised, and she agreed, that the wife orchestrated the husband’s murder. Indeed, she did, thinking she’d inherit his insurance money, which went to his only daughter. She was having an affair with the ex-con she got to do the hit.

Monique went to bed before I did, requesting I turn off the TV and place the remote on the entertainment center before heading to my room.

That, dear reader, is how I spent my birthday. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. I loved it.

The next morning, Birthday #2, I donned a colorful caftan (sweet-talked from an aunt to scoop from her hamper) to breakfast on quiche, biscuit, sausage, and hibiscus tea before my CBD soak and 90-minute massage. Monique arranged for chilled sparkling cider and prosecco to be waiting for me. The fireplace had a real fire going.

After my services, I sprawled in one of four chaises in a mostly glass room, wrapped in a soft, gray Akwaaba robe (naked underneath), still sipping on bubblies, reading Harlem Rhapsody by Victoria Christopher Murray, and napped. Rinse, lather, repeat.

I wanted to visit Known Grove, a nearby indie bookstore before dinner at Native, so I forced myself to get dressed and head out.

Before wrestling with GPS to head into Honesdale again, I walked the mansion grounds, taking photos of a small fountain, a double swing, oversized chessboard. I reveled in the grounds’ beauty and the sun warming my skin. So peaceful.

The few customers at Known were finishing up. It was just the salesgirl, the cat and me. I purchased a 3-pack of mini-notebooks and used copies of Blacktop Wasteland by S.A. Cosby and The Many Lives of Mama Love by Lara Love Hardin. I also bought a magnifying sheet because: 47. I’ve been wearing glasses since second grade.

Native was within walking distance of the bookstore, but I drove to park closer to the restaurant. It was getting later and darker, and I was in an unknown town.

At first, they tried to seat me at the bar, but I requested a table. There was a smaller seating area upstairs, like a loft. I had the space to myself. Perfect for people-watching diners below and for reading the fictionalized novel about the true affair between W.E.B. DuBois and his mistress Jessie Redmon Fauset.

My server said most people didn’t finish the braised rib mac ‘n cheese dish, but I did. I couldn’t finish the tiramisu that I requested she bring with a candle. Before I left, she told me she refused to let others be seated in my area so as “not to disturb my vibe” and that I inspired her to take a similar trip for her upcoming birthday. That touched me.

I marveled at the beautiful sky and its clouds in the darkening sky driving back. I pulled over a few times to snap photos of it and my beloved moon. I beat back the fear of the dark, unlit, narrow roads. This was the kind of darkness in Sinners. I was half expecting Cornbread to emerge and encourage me to “be kind to one another.”

It was still early-ish—not yet 9 pm, but I scrapped my plans to see You, Me and Tuscany, starring Halle Bailey and Regé-Jean Page. I did that after dropping off the car the next day.

My last morning was bittersweet, only because my fairytale getaway was ending. I joined in singing Happy Birthday to another diner when Monique emerged with a sparkler on the French toast. I was reading and laughed when she returned, doing the same for me. She wanted me to have a proper sendoff.

Diners at the other two tables exited for their day’s plans. Monique pulled up a chair to chat. I learned about her previous career: former immediate editor of Essence, after Susan L. Taylor. THE magazine I’ve been reading since high school!

Noting my love of reading by the book I carried around and seeking a nearby bookstore, she wasn’t surprised to hear my favorite section was the book column by Patrik Henry Bass before it was eliminated. She knew I knew what I was talking about when I said “Patrik without a C.” My jaw dropped when she whipped out her phone and read me a recently received text from him!

We talked about the differences between book and magazine publishing. She told me about her daughter, whom she said I reminded her of, from the solo birthday trips to attending Emerson and New School. I now follow her daughter’s businesses on Instagram.

We hugged like old friends. The drive back to Brooklyn seemed quicker. Before I realized it, I passed the diner I had stopped into in Newtonville, New Jersey, during the drive up.

I loved everything about my birthday. I love and am grateful I was able to do this for myself. I’m grateful for all the calls, texts, DMs, voice notes I received. I’m grateful for another year.

I am grateful.

Tapping into positivity
Sharon A. Keyser’s SKCreations, LLC delivers colour and great textiles not just because of its founder’s love of both, but because of a deeper pursuit for all to feel positive about who we are—and changing the world at the same time

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Black Brilliance Across Borders: My first Black History Month in Canada

Nikki Adebiyi, Founder, Bounce Black

This February marked my first Black History Month in Canada, and my first Canadian winter!

Aside from the fact that I’ve never seen this much snow in my life, nor have I ever been so cold that my face hurts…it’s been wonderful, I promise.

In the words of one speaker at an event I attended, “I’m all blacked out”.

As a speaker and event producer myself, that is a sentiment that applies everywhere because I typically feel the same during October, which is Black History Month in the UK. It’s busy and exhausting, but all in the best of ways!

This year, Canada celebrated 30 years of Black History Month with the theme: ‘Honouring Black Brilliance Across Generations — From Nation Builders to Tomorrow’s Visionaries’.

There was no shortage of events, to say the least. There were certainly much more than I was able to attend. But the ones that I did go to have left a profound impression on me, and I’d love to tell you about them…

Black people play hockey? On ice!?

I kicked off my February at the A Different Booklist store in the Blackhurst Cultural Centre. In the middle of the historically Black neighbourhood of Bathurst, people of all ethnic backgrounds gathered in a gorgeous Black bookstore for the launch of Black Aces by The Athletic’s NHL staff writer Julian McKenzie.

Black Aces is McKenzie’s debut book, featuring a collection of stories about renowned Black hockey players, which, as you can imagine, is a huge part of winter sporting in Canada.

As curious and as open as I can be, ice hockey is a sport that I have yet to acquaint myself with. Unless you count PE at school, where we sometimes ran around the sports-and-lunch hall, whacking plastic pucks into makeshift goalposts.

Still, different gear, different climate and a different arena makes for a different experience entirely.

After the book launch, and a few conversation primers on the rules of the game, it’s now on my list of essential things to do in Canada.

Side note: I love that people who look like me have ventured into activities that I probably wouldn’t even think to try. Not only do you have to be excellent at hockey, you have to be competent at skating on ice! That’s an impressive level of hand-eye coordination, so kudos to them for doing it well enough to merit recognition. I love that for us!

Further side note: How much Julian knows about Black British culture tickled me, and further confirmed my belief that Black London and Black Toronto are much like identical twins who were separated during childhood, but when later reunited, it’s uncanny how alike they are.

I also later returned to the Blackhurst Cultural Centre for the free headshots they were offering to young Black creatives. Here’s my favourite one:

Word, Sound & Power Showcase

Next, I visited York University for its Word, Sound & Power event which showcased, and paid homage to, an array of Black talent in the arts, including musical composition, singing, dance, poetry and dramatic monologues.

To my great surprise, we were honoured to be joined by Toronto’s poet laureate Lillian Allen (pictured), as well as Canada’s first Black female MP, the Hon. Jean Augustine herself, who is responsible for passing the law that made Black History Month officially recognised across the nation.

Overeall, it was an eventful night of warm reflections, riveting stories and powerful calls to action. I especially enjoyed Ms. Augustine’s reflections on her life, career and social progress in Canada. The question she centred her speech on, “are we there yet?”, remains with me even now.

Living In Colour Symposium

Downtown at the University of Toronto, the Black Legal Action Centre (BLAC) held their Black History Month Symposium on ‘Black Life, Law and Belonging in Canada’.

The organisation itself is remarkable, being the only legal clinic in the province of Ontario that is dedicated to tackling anti-Black racism through legal advocacy.

Their additional focus on public education and community engagement resulted in an impactful itinerary of powerful speech after speech interspersed with thoughtful panel discussions.

The sessions covered a range of topics, including:

• Black history in Canada
• The role of legal advocacy in advancing justice and equity for Black comunities
• The complexity of belonging and integration in immigration
• The work required for Black longevity and equity in Canada
• The changing landscape of advocacy in the age of AI

Speakers included MPs, lawyers, other legal professionals, and grassroots activists.

Although, unfortunately, I missed out on most of the talks due to commute time and weather-related delays on public transport, what I did gain during my time there was an insight into how similar the issues of racial justice are across the Black diaspora.

As ever, as always, this is both comforting and infuriating.

That there is a shared language of racialised experiences across borders and cultuers is helpful as I could immediately make sense of the discussion despite not being a Black Canadian.

However, it is not fun learning that people who look like me struggle in similar ways wherever we are in the world.

Still, I left the event encouraged by the work being done and the shared understanding of the cultural, spiritual and intellectual shift that is going to be necessary for us to move forward collectively.

The Power of Community Symposium

On the penultimate weekend of Black History Month, I returned to the City Hall area for the Black Founders Network Power of Community Symposium. This was a whole-day affair, that I missed a lot of due to commuting issues again, but what I caught of it was powerful.

The theme was ‘The Next Era: Sustaining the Momentum’ as a nod to the last three years of the Symposium’s gathering of Black founders, investors, professionals and other ecosystem partners.

Having attended only once and left with a profound impression of the lesson that I need to bet on myself more, I certainly hope to see more from the BFN team.

Their BeHer Summit on March 6th, too, was spectacular and inspiring. I made sure to be there on time as I could not risk missing out on the wisdom and networking opportunities with powerhouse women from all over the GTA. And sure enough, it did not disappoint!

BFN events embody the message of refusing to play small because they certainly know how to do it big.

Both events fed me more than just physically, but the food, too, was wonderful, with Caribbean cuisine at the Symposium, and soul food at the Summit.

It was also wonderful to meet some of the team behind the Black Entrepreneurship Ecosystem Map (BEEM), and learn more about both the background and the future of the project.

Overall, I was inspired to bet on myself and see this entrepreneurial journey through, and not only for my good but for the good of the community I serve.

Legacy was a running theme, and I have begun thinking more about what it would look like for my work to outlast me.

Black Talent Initiative’s Ignite Conference

My Canadian Black History Month concluded with the Black Talent Initiative’s Ignite conference, which I had heard about before arriving in Canada, and I was grateful that I won a sponsored ticket to attend.

Between the keynotes, the firesides, the panels and the workshops, gem after gem was shared by the speakers. I took pages and pages of notes, both paper and digital.

Weeks later, I am still meditating on the insights and reflections of the sessions.

In particular, Suzannah Kelly’s workshop on intentional leadership and legacy left a profound impression on me.

She led a powerful session that inspired much reflection, with questions based on the premise that legacy is built through our daily choices, not by chance.

A good leader’s legacy is less about results and more about the culture, access and opportunities we create for others.

Our legacy shows up in the small moments, such as what we challenge, who we elevate, and how people feel after encountering us.

Every interaction leaves an impact, and the impact that we leave behind is our legacy.

True leadership, she also stressed, is measured by what changes because we were present. That is, who grows, what shifts, and what becomes possible for others.

This requires clarity of values, courage to use our voice, and a willingness to be visible.

Ultimately, legacy is what remains because we chose not to stay silent.

This, in addition to the other talks, guaranteed that I came away with much to think through, much to hope for and much to be proud of.

I also enjoyed the RBC photo booth, which had one of the best lighting setups for candid photography of Black skin that I have seen in a long time. All the photos came out great!

Lastly, as with most of the events I attended, there were a number of Black-owned businesses on display, from beauty and jewellery brands to authors and coaches.

One particular brand that made an impression on me was Blaque Wellness, whose Matriarch of the family-run business drew me in.

A beautiful Black grandmother who showered me with care and compliments, seeking to understand my skincare needs, and offered me a hands-on demonstration of how their products could be embedded in my regimen.

It reminded me of how warm and wonderful it is to be seen and thought of from start to finish, including in product design.

Final Thoughts

The previous sentiments are exactly how I would summarise my experience of my first Canadian Black History Month, namely that it catered for and catered to me. I was the target audience for whom an experience was specifically designed and curated, and I came away from it with abundance.

I received so much more than I expected, and I am inspired to implement my learnings, so that other people can benefit from them too. The first being sharing what I learned with you all here in this blog.

Although it is March, we celebrate Black history all year-round. I hope you found something useful in this post to help you champion Black futures!

Cataloging Black-owned record stores

As part of celebrating Black History Month, here’s a list of known Black-owned record stores in the United States and other places around the globe. The list includes those stores that are either fully or partially Black-owned.

Sadly, as with all variations of brick and mortar record retailers, the advent of streaming, digital downloading, and online retailers like Amazon.com has vastly decreased the number of Black-owned record stores. It was also noteworthy that several stores only recently identified in previously published stories/articles (in the past five years) were discovered to have now closed permanently.

Kudos to these business owners for weathering the economic, social, and technological challenges of owning and operating an independent record store in the 21st Century. Please feel free to forward any additions, corrections, or suggestions to this list.

Peace!

________

Bantu Records: Johannesburg, South Africa

Baoulecore Archive Center (2023): Abidjan, Cote d’ Ivorie

Better Days Records (1998): Louisville, Kentucky

Black Circle Records: Charleston (Summerville), South Carolina

Black Star Vinyl (formerly Halsey & Lewis Records) (2017): Brooklyn, New York

Blessed Love Record Shop: Berlin, Germany

Brittany’s Record Shop (2018): Cleveland, Ohio

Conservatory Vintage & Vinyl (2019): Chicago (Flossmoor), illinois

Crates ATL (2025): Atlanta, Georgia

DBS Sounds (1994): Atlanta (Riverdale), Georgia

Della Soul Records (2021): Grand Rapids, Michigan

DJ’s Record Shop: Jacksonville, Florida

Dorsey’s Record Shop (1946): Pittsburgh (Homewood), Pennsylvania

Fivespace: San Diego, California

Forever Changes Vinyl Lounge (1971): Philadelphia (Phoenixville), Pennsylvania

Freshtopia (2019): Norfolk, Virginia

God’s Time: Accra, Ghana

Good Stuff Records: Houston, Texas

Gotwhatulike: Kansas City, Missouri

Home Rule Records (2018): Washington, D.C.

Jampac Records (1986): Charlotte (Monroe), North Carolina

JB’s Record Lounge (2017): Atlanta, Georgia

Kumanini Vinyls (2017); Busua, Ghana

Maestro Records: London (Peckham), England, U.K.

Memories of Soul: Newark, New Jersey

Moodies Records (1982): Bronx, New York

Moods Music (2000): Atlanta, Georgia

Music Planet (1981): Flint, Michigan

Needle to the Groove (2014): San Jose, California

Offbeat (2014): Jackson, Mississippi

Out of the Past Records (1968): Chicago, Illinois

Peaches Records (1975): New Orleans, Louisiana

PM Sounds (2019): Los Angeles (San Pedro), California

Poo-Bah Records (1971): Los Angeles (Pasadena), California

Pure Vinyl: London, England, U.K.

Recs N Threads: St. Louis, Missouri

Re-Runz Records (2016): Orlando, Florida

Retrofit Records (2011): Tallahassee, Florida

Rockers International Records: Kingston, Jamaica

Serious Sounds (1991): Houston, Texas

SOOK Vintage & Vinyl (2023): Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Soulfolk’s Records & Tapes (2019): Nashville, Tennessee

Stokley’s Records: Valdosta, Georgia

Str33t Records (2021): Los Angeles (Alhambra), California

Supertone Records: Londont (Brixton), England, U.K.

The Jazzhole: Lagos, Nigeria

The Real Vinyl Guru/Stall 570 (1989): Nairobi, Kenya

The Record Track (1990): Chicago, Illinois

Urban Lights Music (1993): Twin Cities, Minnesota

Vinyl and Pages: Baltimore, Maryland

SOURCES:

• https://www.okayplayer.com/10-black-owned-vinyl-record-stores-to-support/683266
• https://www.essence.com/gallery/black-owned-record-stores-to-visit/
• https://www.revolt.tv/article/7-legendary-black-owned-record-shops-in-the-us
• https://shoppeblack.us/black-owned-record-stores/
• https://www.reddit.com/r/vinyl/comments/gwod38/blackowned_record_stores/
• https://www.thefloormag.com/post/4-black-owned-vinyl-stores-you-need-to-visit
• https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/neighborhood-record-stores
• https://www.brooklynvegan.com/18-awesome-black-owned-record-stores/
• https://daily.jstor.org/how-black-owned-record-stores-helped-create-community/
• https://phillyplaindealer.com/2024/11/30/sook-vinyl-vintage-phillys-only-black-owned-record-store/
• https://foreverchangesrecords.com/
• https://variety.com/2021/music/news/common-black-owned-stores-record-store-day-vinyl-1234912022/
• https://variety.com/2021/music/news/common-black-owned-stores-record-store-day-vinyl-1234912022/
• https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=847652931397660&set=a.122331840596443
• https://flintbeat.com/flints-own-music-planet-celebrates-40-years-in-flint/
• https://www.peachesrecordsandtapes.com/
• https://www.instagram.com/explore/locations/1641991359380502/d-js-record-shop/
• https://www.thefamuanonline.com/2022/04/22/retrofit-records-swims-against-the-tide/
• https://thestrategycenter.org/about/bookstore/?utm_source=google&utm_campaign=20735694124&utm_content=158137469714&utm_term=black%20owned%20bookstore%20los%20angeles&utm_medium=678971598711&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=20735694124&gbraid=0AAAAAqEaDtHquk8pZIRrs1BbdQHJrfKzM&gclid=CjwKCAiAncvMBhBEEiwA9GU_fkNZUOr2GPfMCNm8dHl5tzvLXNl4y2F5DXwFexL7iv_JYdgqLR268xoCRhcQAvD_BwE
• gemini.google.ai
• https://www.nashvillescene.com/music/features/r-a-p-ferreira-establishes-a-new-outpost-of-soulfolks-records-and-tapes/article_582eaa9c-178a-11ee-b116-132366c67a41.html
• https://www.instagram.com/recsnthreadsstl/
• https://www.visitpittsburgh.com/blog/pittsburgh-record-stores/
• https://www.hfchronicle.com/2021/07/26/present-history-conservatory-and-tradition-black-owned-record-stores/
• https://www.realvinylguru.com/newsletter-page/jimmi-the-story-of-the-african-real-vinyl-guru
• https://www.instagram.com/p/CxC1ZMHo0jd/
• https://kumaninivinyls.wordpress.com/about/
• https://banturecords.co.za/pages/about-us
• https://acloserwalknola.com/places/peaches-records/