The premise is this: Sisters and BFFs Chantelle Anderson and Kristin Smith want to help women elevate their lives through faith and sisterhood. Smith, a women’s ministry leader and a veteran TV anchor, and Anderson, a former WNBA legend and second-draft-pick-overall turned career coach and business consultant, are the ideal duo to listen to on a long car ride, during a workout or while running errands. From growing up a year-and-a-half apart to their own respective career wins and losses, the sisters have been through many of life’s journeys side by side.

Go Sis is about telling it straight, navigating life’s peaks and valleys and laughing hard along the way. In previous episodes, the hosts have discussed Botox, loving the season you’re in and getting out of your own way. Now onto season two, episodes will focus on dating, getting back into the relationship game after being single for a long time, forgiveness, fighting anxiety and a slew of other difficult but important topics.

New episodes drop every two weeks. What are you waiting for? It’s time to Go Sis.

Below, we caught up with Anderson about her journey from the basketball court to motivational speaker stage and the meaning of success.

You’re a former professional athlete turned speaker and confidence coach. What has that journey been like for you?

Courtesy of Chantelle Anderson

“It’s been different things all at once: an adventure, a rebirth, a fight, a process of self-discovery and faith-building. But I think what I’m most grateful for is that it’s allowed me to find my purpose,” Anderson told us. “Playing basketball was what I always wanted to do—my first dream. But my third year in the WNBA, my injuries started and didn’t stop. I broke my kneecap, ruptured my Achilles, tore my ACL and tore ligaments in my foot. So, at age 29, I retired from the job I loved and it felt like I’d lost my entire identity. I’d been an athlete for most of my life. Without it, I had no idea who I was or what else I could be.

“I went on my own, ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ journey to find myself. And then career-wise, bounced around from college coaching to medical device sales to starting two brands that failed, to finally finding that thing I was created to do, which was ultimately to help other women do the same thing I did: build their lives into adventures they love while refusing to settle for less, no matter what.”

How did your book, God, What the Heck?!, come about?

Courtesy of Chantelle Anderson

“It was a journey! I thought 2020 was going to be the best year ever. Business-wise, Google had just signed on as a client, and personally, I’d found a deeper faith, even going back to school for ministry the year before. Then in February, my dad unexpectedly went into the hospital. In March, the world—and my business—shut down for COVID. And in April, Daddy passed away. All of the sudden, I was in the middle of grieving and it felt like I was losing my dream all over again. I was looking around like, ‘God, what the heck?!’

“I kept asking all the hard questions about this crazy life we live, until I got the answers that helped me cling to my faith even tighter. Through all the questions, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to waste the pain. If I was going to feel that horrible, I was going to help other people who did too. And so my book takes others on the same journey I went on. It’s me having a real conversation with the reader and bringing God into it, in the hopes that when the book is done, they’ll continue their own conversations with a stronger and more honest relationship.”

What is the one key to success, in your eyes?

Courtesy of Chantelle Anderson

“It depends on your definition of success. The day I got drafted to the WNBA was the day my childhood dream came true. And that night, after all the pageantry and excitement, I went back to my hotel room expecting to fall onto my bed and float off to sleep smiling. But that wasn’t what happened, because something was off. I thought that achieving my dream would finally make me feel like enough. Instead, it just felt like another thing checked off on my long to-do list for myself. So confused and disappointed, I cried myself to sleep on what was supposed to be one of the best days of my life. I think that happened because I, like most people who ask this question about how to be successful, had bought into the lie that success would finally make me feel good enough.” 

Dasha Burobina for PureWow

“Now after including God in my journey to success, I’ve traveled all over the world speaking on confidence, leadership and faith as a full-time entrepreneur and author. And the beautiful thing is that this time my success also came with joy, peace and healing. So the most important question is not how to be successful. If you figure out what you’re naturally talented at, and work relentlessly to become excellent at it, you’ll find success. It’s not complicated, and it works. The real question, though, is what version of success do you want? Because in my experience, success without God will always be empty.”

Powerful Juneteenth Quotes

Paula Boudes/PureWow

1. “The 4th of July was never about Black people. Juneteenth is just for us. As Black people, we are told we don’t deserve our own holidays rooted in our own history. Everything is whitewashed. Juneteenth is for us…Juneteenth symbolizes the hope that my children and grandchildren will be free. It’s Black Joy and Black tenacity to survive.” — Tanesha Grant

2. “Juneteenth was a promise that was broken. Reconstruction failed and this country has continued to wage war on the Black body. Juneteenth also embodies the resilience of Black people. Even in the face of a broken system, we choose to find joy in resistance and celebrate in community.” — Obrian Rosario

3. “What I love about Juneteenth is that even in that extended wait, we still find something to celebrate. Even though the story has never been tidy, and Black folks have had to march and fight for every inch of our freedom, our story is nonetheless one of progress.” — Michelle Obama

4. “In many ways, Juneteenth is both a local story and a national story. It really is in some ways the second Independence Day in this country. For many people, Juneteenth raises the fundamental question of the power and impact of freedom and the fragility of freedom. So, for me it’s an opportunity to both look back but to look ahead to make sure that that notion of freedom and the fragility of it is always protected and celebrated.” — Lonnie Bunch

5. “Today on Juneteenth, the day we celebrate the end of slavery, the day we memorialize those who offered us hope for the future and the day when we renew our commitment to the struggle for freedom.” — Angela Davis

Paula Boudes/PureWow

6. “Juneteenth means so much to me. It represents the freedom that my ancestors fought so tirelessly for. But rather than focusing on the brutalization of my people then and now. I choose to focus on hope. June 19th reminds me that I am the force of power to change this world and to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors to work towards liberation.” — Mariah Cooley

7. “Every June 19th is an opportunity for us to continue the momentum of memory, and the parade and the self-determination movements.” — Dr. Greg Carr

8. “Juneteenth has never been a celebration of victory or an acceptance of the way things are. It’s a celebration of progress. It’s an affirmation that despite the most painful parts of our history, change is possible—and there is still so much work to do.” — Barack Obama

9. “The American education system has taught us as children that Black people have a history in pain and survival. They have failed to teach us our history in joy, success, innovations and so much more. Juneteenth is a reclaim on our history that has been stolen. Juneteenth is greater to us than a Fourth of July or Christmas because it represents our culture, resilience, and deserving respect from a country WE built.” — Nia White

10. “I love that Juneteenth is now an official federal holiday. A time to honor our past and those who’ve forged a path to our present.” — Oprah Winfrey

Paula Boudes/PureWow

11. “The day we were free—everyone was free. Why not make it a paid holiday? We deserve that…We want a day that is inclusive to everyone.” — Pharrell Williams

12. “Juneteenth may mark just one moment in the struggle for emancipation, but the holiday gives us an occasion to reflect on the profound contributions of enslaved Black Americans to the cause of human freedom.” — Jamelle Bouie

Juneteenth Quotes About America

13. “I don’t measure America by its achievement but by its potential.” — Shirley Chisholm

14. “Whether we are born here or seek refuge here, there’s a place for us all. We must remember it’s not my America or your America. It’s our America.” — Michelle Obama 

15. “No matter who you are or what you look like, how you started off, or how and who you love, America is a place where you can write your own destiny.” — Barack Obama

Paula Boudes/PureWow

16. “What the people want is very simple—they want an America as good as its promise.” — Barbara Jordan

17. “We black folk, our history, and our present being are a mirror of all the manifold experiences of America. What we want, what we represent, what we endure is what America is. If we Black folk perish, America will perish.” — Richard Wright

Juneteenth Quotes About Freedom

18. “Struggle is a never-ending process. Freedom is never really won, you earn it and win it in every generation.” — Coretta Scott King

19. “You can’t separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom.” — Malcolm X

20. “We have simply got to make people aware that none of us are free until we’re all free, and we aren’t free yet.” — Opal Lee

Paula Boudes/PureWow

21. “Black liberation has never just been about Black people. It’s been about a fight for our humanity, for our dignity.” — Patrisse Cullors

22. “I got to fight on till I leave here, and I hope I leave some footprints.” — Mattie Jones

23. “Freedom is not a state; it is an act. It is not some enchanted garden perched high on a distant plateau where we can finally sit down and rest. Freedom is the continuous action we all must take, and each generation must do its part to create an even more fair, more just society.” — John Lewis

24. “I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free…so other people would be also free.” — Rosa Parks

25. “You cannot take freedoms for granted. Just like generations who have come before you, you have to do your part to preserve and protect those freedoms.” — Michelle Obama

Paula Boudes/PureWow

26. “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.” — Fannie Lou Hamer

27. “Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” — Toni Morrison

28. “Where it’s freedom to express, freedom to live, freedom to earn, freedom to thrive, freedom to learn, whatever it is, I want to make sure that I’m a part of these spaces and opening doors.” — Angela Rye

Juneteenth Quotes About Equality and Justice

29. “Make a career of humanity. Commit yourself to the noble struggle for equal rights. You will make a better person of yourself, a greater nation of your country, and a finger world to live in.” — Martin Luther King Jr. 

30. “The pursuit of justice is all I have ever known.” — Harry Belafonte

Paula Boudes/PureWow

31. “You need not be afraid to give us our rights for fear we will take too much—for we can’t take more than our pint’ll hold.” — Sojourner Truth 

32. “To truly advocate for a beautifully just world that does not yet exist is to commit an act of radical imagination. Justice is only within our grasp when ushered in from a distant horizon of possibility—through study, imagination and effort.” — Cornell William Brooks

33. “We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” — Martin Luther King Jr. 

34. “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” — Martin Luther King Jr. 

35. “Let us not assume for one moment that our work is done, the struggle for equal justice continues.” — Fred Gray

Paula Boudes/PureWow

36. “Where you see wrong or inequality or injustice, speak out, because this is your country. This is your democracy. Make it. Protect it. Pass it on.” — Thurgood Marshall

Juneteenth Quotes About Hope

37. “Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

38. “Peace is necessary. For justice, it is necessary. For hope, it is necessary, for our future.” — Harry Belafonte 

39. “If people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love. But we need to know, you can’t erase history. So, let’s learn from it and be damned sure it doesn’t happen again.” — Opal Lee

Juneteenth Quotes About Motivation

40. “Let no voice but your own speak to you from the depths. Let no influence but your own raise you in time of peace and time of war.” — Marcus Garvey

Paula Boudes/PureWow

41. “Sometimes we have to do the work even though we don’t yet see a glimmer on the horizon that it’s actually going to be possible.” — Angela Davis

42. “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.” — Martin Luther King Jr. 

43. “This is the time where everyone has a voice, where [there] are so many platforms dedicated to giving the average person a voice, so you can speak out.” — Issa Rae

44. “To the children of our country, regardless of your gender, our country has sent you a clear message: Dream with ambition, lead with conviction, and see yourself in a way that others might not see you, simply because they’ve never seen it before.” — Kamala Harris

45. “Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.” — John Lewis

Paula Boudes/PureWow

46. “I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.” — Angela Davis

47. “Understanding history is one of many ways to break the cycle. Life up/amplify Black voices. Support Black-owned businesses. Reach back. Mentor.” — Chadwick Boseman

Juneteenth Quotes About Black Pride

48. “Say it loud. I’m Black and I’m proud!” — “Say It Loud—I’m Black and I’m Proud” by James Brown

49. “Personally, there’s no better time to be the color that I am. There’s no better time to be Black. I’m proud. I’ve always been proud to be who I am.” — Serena Williams

50. “I’m rooting for everybody Black.” — Issa Rae

How to Celebrate Juneteenth This Year

We’re going to Taipei this Christmas, she said.

My stomach dropped at the sudden change in plans, followed by a cocktail of emotions: anxiety, dread and irritation. I had been looking forward to the Grand Canyon trip we had been planning—a bucket-list experience for any American family. Plus, I had just moved to NYC the year prior and was still finding my footing; it had been a long, lonely year trying to make friends and figure out where I belonged in a town packed with personalities. An international trip would be draining (#introvertlife) and ultimately mean putting my NYC efforts on the backburner. But what rattled me the most was that this meant I would finally have to step foot in what my friends and I jokingly called the “Motherland.”

Growing up, my many children-of-immigrants friends often spent their school holidays in their designated motherland, often China or India. But I was somewhat of an anomaly. Though we had family in Asia, too, we never went, and that was fine with me. As a third-generation Asian-American, I have always felt more American than Asian. Which, of course, looking at me, is a problem, because I very much look Chinese. But nothing else makes me “Asian” in the sense of the word. I obstinately refused to go to Chinese school on Saturday mornings growing up and am illiterate in all Chinese dialects. If it weren’t for my grandparents, we wouldn’t have celebrated any holidays. And it’s hard for me to fully express how I feel in Chinatown when people come up to me chattering away, my only reply being a blank face and a very American, “I’m sorry?” Maybe it’s a feeling of shame, embarrassment, regret or inadequacy...or all four.

And now, thanks to one plane ticket and a nagging sense of filial piety, I would have to confront this part of myself that I’ve always tried to avoid. And yet, part of me thought that maybe, just maybe, I would touch the ground in Taipei and everything would make sense. There would be an epiphany complete with angels singing in the sky. I would finally understand who I was...what I was. I would finally be “home.”

Five months later, we landed in Taipei, ravenous. Too impatient to wander far, my siblings, cousins and I scrambled across the street from the hotel to 7-11. (IYKYK.) I wandered the aisles, seeing many familiar American imports, like Häagen-Dazs, Oreos and Frito-Lay chips, plus the familiar Asian grocery store staples: every possible flavor of instant noodles, aloe juice, dainty cakes and tea eggs. Most of the comestibles, however, were unrecognizable beyond the pictures on their packaging. At that moment, under the florescent lights, struggling with a packet of biscuits, it truly hit me: I couldn’t even read the labels. I’d been in Taipei for less than five hours and, as an introvert with a food allergy, I was already having an identity crisis. Maybe a 7-11 wasn’t where I was going to find where I belonged.

But I’d definitely feel at “home” experiencing the cultural sites, right? Over the course of a week I climbed the steep stone steps in the foggy mountainside village of Jiufen and launched a paper lantern on the railroad tracks in Shifen. I stuffed myself with soup dumplings and dan dan noodles at the original Din Tai Fung; I bounded across rocky formations in the seaside town of Yehliu; I held my breath through the wafts of stinky tofu at the night markets; I made haphazardly-shaped pineapple cakes and I peered from the observation deck of Taipei 101. But no. After a week of immersion and incredible sightseeing, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. No awakening, no angels, no miracle that would suddenly make me feel I was going to find my roots in Taipei. At the end of seven days in Taiwan, I didn’t feel more Taiwanese. Instead, I was longing to return to New York, to my own bed, apartment and friends. I was longing to return home to nurture the roots I had just planted.

Roots are an anchor. But for growth, they need to be firmly entrenched in one place. How could I be rooted to a place I had not been in exactly two decades? There was no groundwork for an identity in Taipei. After the week was over, I think my sister said it best.

“I feel super Asian in America, but I feel super American in Asia.”

That’s my fate. To belong everywhere and nowhere, trying to be rooted in one place despite others’ attempts to re-pot me where they think I belong. And maybe I’ll never figure out where this elusive home is...but, for now, I’ll keep trying to bloom where I’m planted, here in New York.

Forget ‘Oppenheimer’—‘Past Lives’ Is the Oscar Best Picture Nominee That Actually Deserves the Win

What Is Ramadan? 

Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar and begins and ends with the appearance of the crescent moon. Also known as the “The Night of Power,” Muslims believe this was when God revealed the first verses of the Quran to Prophet Mohammed. It is a period of self-reflection where many practice fasting, communal prayers at the mosque and connecting with loved ones. While many traditions remain the same across different populations, practices during Ramadan may also differ across interpretive schools. We asked two women who observe the month to share how they participate in Ramadan. 

“Ramadan to me is all about improving myself both spiritually and mentally during the month,” says Manahil Zafar, a secondary school teacher and a beauty freelance writer, who observes the month every year with her family. “It’s all about reflecting on the past year and how I can improve myself to be a better Muslim and closer to Allah.” 

“It’s a time for me to focus on my spirituality with God, which is significant to me because in my everyday life I often forget to prioritize that connection. Ramadan gives me that opportunity to spend time with my family as well as learn important skills such as discipline, avoiding temptation, practicing kindness to others and giving back to the community,” says Nariman Dein, a content creator who frequently makes videos about her culture on TikTok. 

How Long Does Ramadan Last? 

Ramadan typically lasts 29 to 30 days. The exact timings will vary depending on where you are, with Ramadan officially beginning when the crescent moon is sighted (hence why timings may differ by a day). According to Britannica, the Islamic calendar is often shorter than the Gregorian calendar (aka the calendar most people in the U.S. follow), so the holy month can begin 10 to 12 days earlier each year. “Islam uses a calendar based on the cycles of the moon. A new month begins with the appearance of the new moon (or the crescent moon) and ends with the next appearance of a new moon. The month of Ramadan thus moves backwards about 10 days every year,” explains Zafar. Once the month is done, Muslims will celebrate with Eid al-Fitr (this year on Wednesday, April 10), a holiday filled with a huge feast, dressing up and gifts.

How Do You Prepare for Ramadan? 

Everyone prepares for the month of fasting in their own way, but for Zafar, creating a routine is very important. “I like to start by meal prepping and deciding what to eat every day. Since this is my first Eid after getting married, I will try to balance my daily routine by preparing meals far in advance so I spend less [time] cooking before dinner and more on praying and getting closer to Allah. I will also try a fit in a gym session depending on how I feel and balancing my prayers, and sleep routine whilst working full time.”

How Does Fasting Work During Ramadan?

Muslim Girl/Getty Images

Also known as swam, fasting is a one of the five pillars of Islam and an essential part of Ramadan. (Read about the other four pillars here.)  As Zafar explains, “Fasting is defined as abstaining from eating and drinking. During Ramadan we eat early in the morning before sunrise known as sehri and open our fast after sunset known as iftar time [which is often spent with family and friends]. Overall, we just don’t have lunch throughout the day.”

Can You Ever Skip a Day of Fasting?

There are certain exemptions provided to Muslims that allow you to skip fasting, Dein explains. “For example, when women get their period, they are allowed to miss out on fasting because God knows it could be a difficult time for them. If someone is sick, they are also not required to fast as it is important to prioritize their health and take medication or other methods to get better.” Other groups who are exempt from fasting include those who are pregnant or breastfeeding, the elderly, very young children and anyone traveling long distances (though days can be added once they’ve returned). 

Is It OK to Eat in Front of Someone Who Is Fasting for Ramadan?

Considering that there are more than 1.8 billion Muslims in the world, chances are that you or someone you know may be observing Ramadan. As such, you may be wondering if it’s considered rude to tuck into a big bowl of pasta in front of your friend or colleague who is fasting. Dein reassures us that there’s no need to worry, and advises others to simply offer respect to those who are observing for the next couple of weeks.“I don’t really expect anyone to act differently around me just because I’m fasting,” she explains. “The whole point is to avoid temptation and become self-disciplined and I don’t think this will really work if people start hiding their food around me or become cautious. The only thing I’d expect is for them to be respectful about the topic and not purposely offer me food while they know I’m fasting.”

What Are Some Potential Side Effects of Fasting During Ramadan?

We Are/Getty Images

We previously reported that fasting regularly can help reduce cholesterol, inflammation and blood pressure among other things, although it's worth noting that the practice has mixed reviews among experts. It's also important to know that fasting affects people differently. For Zafar, she notices a difference in her skin and body during Ramadan. “My skin goes through a lot—from dryness, dehydration and breakouts caused by eating all the oily foods (oops!). However, this year I’m determined to ensure my beauty routine is perfected and my skin looks the best it ever has!” she says. “There are many significant changes to the body during Ramadan including sleeping pattern and eating habits which has had an impact on my skin. [Overall,] I like to give it some extra love during this month. I like to spend a little longer doing my skincare routine with more steps to lock in the hydration.”

In terms of weight loss while fasting, this also varies depending on the person. “Everyone’s bodies and metabolism are different, so some people do lose weight and some don’t. I personally do lose a bit of weight, as my body gets used to not eating as much by the end of the month which is great when it comes to Eid,” she says. 

Can You Drink Water During Ramadan?

“Nope not at all!” says Zafar. “We don’t eat or drink until before sunrise and after sunset (that includes water!). If you accidentally drink water or anything else your fast is [invalid].” Though it’s important to note that you’re able to make up a fasting day if that ever does happen.

What Else Is Not Permitted During Ramadan?

Aside from drinking water, Dein shares some of the other things you can’t do during Ramadan. “Some things can break your fast and make it invalid for that day, which includes smoking, sex, taking medication or anything that enters the body.” (She notes that swearing, wearing makeup and listening to music are all permitted, however.)

What Is a Typical Day Like During Ramadan? 

The daily start and end of fasting may differ across families and cultures, as well as what foods are eaten to break fast and how social the period may be. In short, everyone’s Ramadan may look a little different! “I try to go about my day as usual without expecting special treatment from others, that means going to work, school or any other commitment,” says Dein. “Fasting becomes easier as the month progresses, but the first couple of days are always the hardest but I find that my body becomes used to it. I wake up right before sunrise and have a meal to prepare myself for fasting and by sunset I spend my time eating with my family as we bond over how hungry we were during the day. I try to also make it a habit during the day to pray on time, read the Quran and self-reflect.”

For Zafar, she navigates Ramadan while she’s working. “I work full time as a secondary school teacher which requires so much patience and concentration, especially during Ramadan! The vibe at school is amazing as we normally have assemblies informing all students and a prayer room dedicated for students who are fasting.” 

How Do You Celebrate the End of Ramadan?

Photo Courtesy of Manahil Zafar

As mentioned, Eid al-Fitr is a time for celebrating the end of the holy month. “Eid day is always great,” says Zafar. “The night before involves putting on some henna and preparing jewelry and clothing that I’m going to wear. It involves waking up early to get ready, doing my makeup and putting my clothes on (traditionally it is required you wear new clothes on Eid). Then I make my way to the mosque to offer my prayers, followed by spending the day with my family. We take loads of pictures of ourselves, get lots of gifts and end the day with a big feast!” 

Meanwhile Dein shares, “My family and I shop for new outfits for Eid and my mum bakes treats for us to eat during the day as well as having a big feast as a way to reward ourselves for fasting the month of Ramadan. This day is very important because it makes you grateful for being able to have access to food and access to people who love and support you, it’s a really good way to appreciate the finer things in life.”

How Can Non-Muslims Respect Those Who Practice Ramadan?

There are multiple ways to respect and learn from those who observe Ramadan. Firstly, you can greet those observing Ramadan by saying “Happy Ramadan” or “Have a Bless Ramadan.” You can also be mindful about how you talk to someone who is fasting. It’s not polite to ask someone why they are or are not fasting. As Zafar explains, “Be respectful of Muslims that are fasting and consider how your actions may be received by others e.g. inviting colleagues to drinks or lunch might be seen as insensitive by those who are fasting.”

She also reassures us that it’s OK to ask questions to better understand Ramadan. “Ask us any questions you may have about Ramadan. Workplaces and employers should be inclusive, so everyone is aware of what Ramadan is. Plus, research beforehand about Ramadan, so if we are struggling you can be understanding as to why we might be that way,” she says.

Me, Myself & Melanin: How We Take Care of Our Black Skin

My family always joked that my abuelita would outlive us all. Charmingly stubborn, whip smart and impressively loud, Mimi had much fire packed in her pint-sized body. She survived the loss of her soulmate, vision and mobility over decades, yet carried on with vigor and an almost impossible-to-grasp level of faith. So, when she passed in 2019 at 101 years old, I found it a tough reality to reckon with.

On the one hand, I was eventually grateful that she went without suffering and wouldn’t be subject to the chaos and fear that came with the pandemic just months later. On the other, I was somehow in disbelief that the day had come—a new chapter of my life without fuzzy rumba blasting on her older-than-me radio, forced rosary circles and passive-aggressive-yet-precious voicemails, lightly scolding me for not calling enough.

Dasha Burobina for PureWow

In the days following her death, my dad’s childhood friends offered condolences and stories about visiting their tiny apartment on Steinway Street in Astoria, Queens back in the ’70s. Above all, her hosting prowess and food dominated their memories. “I remember a visit to your home after camp one year and your mom baked the most delicious lasagnas for all your friends,” one wrote in a Facebook comment. (Despite being Cuban, my dad’s side has a serious thing for pasta…and I’m not complaining.)

Soon after, I found her tattered recipe stash, a yellowed marble notebook stuffed to the brim with handwritten instructions, nary a measurement in sight. I searched for her lasagna. It wasn’t included (it’s a risk for an abuelita’s most coveted recipe to be written down, no?), but I did find a treasure trove of other dishes begging to be prepared. My grandma was blind for most of my life, so I don’t remember her cooking or having eaten her food. With so many of her favorite recipes on hand, perhaps I could taste her fare for the first time by cooking it myself.

My Abuela Stored Everything in a Keebler Export Sodas Tin—but Was She the Only One?

Dasha Burobina for PureWow

I started with her famous flan de leche, which I added sweetened shredded coconut to just because. (She adored coconut ice cream and coconut cream pie, so I figured she wouldn’t mind.) My dad used to rave about her flan, along with her arroz con leche. Never having made the dessert before, I found the process to be a bit anxiety-inducing but ultimately rewarding, much like the experience of having a worry-wart abuelita who makes it her job to tell you all the potential risks of any life decision, albeit out of love. Consider the caramel-coated reveal of a remarkably intact flan a metaphor for things working out, despite her greatest fears.

Next, I tackled Cuba’s national dish, ropa vieja, a shredded beef stew made with long strips of onion and bell pepper in a tomato-based sauce. It’s arguably my dad’s signature dish, but he always used *her* recipe. The aroma alone took me back to high school, when I would invite my crush du jour to my dad’s apartment for dinner. Before getting to dig into a mountainous pile of congrí, dappled with gems of caramelized chorizo and crowned with ropa, they’d need to shake my abuelita’s hand—the easiest way for her to judge someone’s character without seeing them or speaking English—and bask in a flurry of bendiciones (Dios te bendiga was her second favorite phrase, only surpassed by si Dios quiere).

I was also eager to try her salsa fuerte, a supercharged, Caesar-like sauce starring mustard, egg yolks and anchovies. The recipe neighbors pescado asado in her recipe book, but I took the liberty of serving it alongside fried red snapper instead. At first bite, I recalled devouring my first whole fish in San Juan, Puerto Rico. If you haven’t had the pleasure, here are my tips: Beware of teeny-tiny bones, using a fork and knife is for the birds and call your abuelita to rave about it once you finish.

The most nostalgic of the bunch for me was her dulce de leche cortada, an underrated dessert that can be tough to find at even the best Cuban restaurants. Our usual sweet treat when she’d visit was Maria cookies slathered with cream cheese and a thick slab of guava paste. But if we were celebrating, dulce de leche cortada—a curdled, semi-solid version of dulce de leche—took centerstage. (Don’t knock it ’til you try it, compa).

The last time I remember eating it with my abuela was after my high school graduation. We went to our favorite local Cuban spot, and it was her first time out of the house in years. A few dapper servers flocked to the entrance to walk her to her seat at her own pace. Unbeknownst to us, there was also a live band playing that afternoon. My grandma, unable to see and decidedly sin vergüenza, was enthusiastically calling out song requests (OK, mostly “Guantanamera”) at the top of her lungs throughout their set. Teen me was mortified, until the singer came over during the intermission to kiss her hand, tell her how much he appreciated her being there and to ask her—jokingly, we think—to marry him.

Dasha Burobina for PureWow

It was immensely moving for me to see firsthand how cherished older people, especially abuelitas, are among Latinx folks. In so many cases, they’re the designated familial keepers of traditions, recipes and peace. They are the ancestral glue that anchors our generation to those before us, and the reason we listen to the songs we do, eat the foods we eat, dance beyond what our feet can handle and waste no morsel or blessing.

By cooking some of my abuelita’s favorite foods that she was never able to serve me, I gained a more intimate understanding of what people loved about her, even a former version of her who existed before me: her warmth, her hospitality, her inexplicable penchant for using bay leaves, her dedication to nursing a two-ounce pour of vermouth rosso at every dinner party, just because she thought it was classy.

Through her recipes, I had the privilege of reliving so many of our special moments, a temporary balm for the void she left behind.

From “Cowboy Caviar” to “Spa Water,” TikTok Food Trends Are Erasing Latinx Culture (and It Needs to Stop Now)

This piece is part of a franchise called 'You Good?,' where we’re dismantling the stigma around mental health in the BIPOC community. You’ll find a helpful guide to finding a therapist, wellness groups and more ways to check on your own mental health.

Most of us won’t ever understand what it means to be a Black man in America. In particular, we can’t understand how living as a Black man affects psychological wellbeing, a concept that’s only now coming to light for BIPOC communities. “We grew up in a time when we heard negative jargon and language around mental health.” says Xiomara Arrieta, a clinical social worker who specializes in anxiety, depression and cultural assimilation issues. 

The good news? Addressing mental health needs is less stigmatized for people of color than it used to be. The bad news? Studies show that men of color are less likely than women of color to seek treatment or report mental health challenges, despite depression being the most common mental illnesses among this group and suicide being the third leading cause of death. (Black men are four times more likely to die by suicide than Black women). 

So what are we to do? The answer, it seems, starts within the community itself.

It Starts with Representation in the Mental Health Space

The American Psychological Association reports that BIPOC individuals represent 19 percent of all therapists in America, and the number dwindles when you account exclusively for Black professionals (five percent). While all therapists are equipped to listen, offer support and provide treatment, there’s a benefit to having a therapist of color in your corner. “It’s difficult to be in a position and have somebody only relate to your experience based on what they read in a book or have seen on TV as opposed to having that real life experience,” says James Harris, founder of Men to Heal. “As a combat veteran and a licensed therapist, I’m able to serve multiple roles because I can identify when you’re talking about certain things or not wanting to engage in certain behaviors.”

“Representation matters,” agrees Arrieta. “As a Black Latina therapist, I’m happy to work with people in the diaspora. I understand why sometimes people would want to sit with me. There's a commonality. It's a difference between sharing my story with you and you getting where I'm coming from.” 

But It’s Not Only About Searching Through a Directory 

Other factors can hinder men of color from reaching out for help. For starters, some communities have little to no access to services and treatments. Additionally, economic hardship can play a role in whether or not people seek said services to begin with (which they are less likely do if uninsured, according to the NCHS). There’s also a long history of the BIPOC community being used in medical studies without consent, leading to overall mistrust. In 2015, research from the National Library of Medicine even shows that Black men are more likely than other groups to receive a misdiagnosis or deal with racial biases at the doctor’s office. 

“POC have faced discrimination and racism within healthcare and mental health systems [for decades], which makes it difficult for us to trust and access those resources,” says Deliah Antoinette, founder of the Black Girl’s Healing House Facebook Group. “I live in a state where mental health resources are the first to get cut and finding help is more difficult than ever. You still don’t feel seen or heard—just another patient to scratch off their list.”

Let’s Not Forget the Power of Masculinity

We’d be remiss not to mention the expectations the Black community puts on its own men, who are taught to be strong, tough and never show signs of weakness. As Antoinette puts it, there’s a certain ‘manhood criteria’ that’s placed upon them. “In our community, when a baby boy cries, he is told ‘Stop acting like a girl, boys don’t cry, toughen up.’ Similarly, men are made to believe that showing vulnerability is a sign of femininity, and therefore they may feel ashamed to discuss their struggles with mental health,” she says. “For Black women, it’s OK for most of us to cry. But we were also taught to suck it up and keep moving, because we had to be strong. Both of us were raised that there was no room for emotion because the goal is to survive life as opposed to thriving in it.” 

So how do we flip the script?  “We have to do a better job as men at feeling our feelings,” says Harris. “You have to ignore the perceptions of others and live your true life, because if not, it’s going to be to the detriment of yourself.” 

Black Men Are Ready to Shift the Narrative…

Despite the many obstacles in their way, some in the community are seeing a change. From Men to Heal , a nonprofit dedicated to educating men through wellness workshops and mental health tools, to Therapy for Black Men, a database for finding therapists, we’ve recently seen a rise in community programs, support groups and organizations geared towards raising awareness for mental health services for Black men. 

And plenty are taking the leap. “The best advice I can give is to just try. There is no harm in trying something new for the first time—whether it’s therapy, a yoga class or a strength class. Give yourself permission to do something new, which can mentally help in other areas of your life,” says Adam Francique, a marathon runner and founder of The Body Prjct. “Therapy was something new in my life. I didn’t start it until I was 35 years old.” 

And the answer isn’t just therapy. “We can do more not just from a therapeutic side, but from a wellness and physical health side,” says Harris. “Black men are less inclined to go to the doctor and get a physical. Back in the day, they thought the mind and body were separate, but now [we know] they go in tandem. Your mental health can affect your physical health and vice versa, so it’s best to have all those things checked,” he maintains.  

…And Normalize Conversations by Sharing Their Stories

In a 2022 interview, rapper Kid Cudi shared his experience with anxiety and depression. Likewise, Jay-Z has always been an advocate of mental health, speaking openly about his own therapy and advocating for similar services in schools. Even Dallas Cowboys quarterback Dak Prescott has spoken out about his mental health challenges (despite backlash from white sports analysts).

In short, it’s about normalizing mental health struggles and successes. As Francique explains, it’s all about community and finding an accountability partner you can rely on whenever you feel alone. “They don’t have to be going through the same thing as you. There are going to be low points throughout your journey, but when you have someone that knows what you’re going through, it’s helpful.”

The most important thing is for men to remember that they are not alone. “If I would have known other people were going through these things, I would have gone through my mental health journey a little bit differently,” says Francique. But now? “I’m glad I’m able to help someone with my story.” 

5 Helpful Tips for Finding a BIPOC Therapist

The “Model Minority Myth” is exactly that—a myth, and a problematic one that stereotypes Asian Americans as having more academic, social and economic success compared to other minorities because of their shared traits of being smart, hard-working and polite.

It’s particularly insidious because it’s couched as a positive, but the reality is that it places unspoken expectations on Asian Americans, and further distances us from other marginalized groups in the country. It also doesn’t account for how diverse the Asian population is.

As of the 2020 Census, there are 20.6 million people who identify as Asian, Native Hawaiian or Pacific Islander with roots “that can be traced to more than 20 countries in East and Southeast Asia and the Indian subcontinent, each with unique histories, cultures, languages and other characteristics,” according to the Pew Research Center.

So how do you even begin to describe the complexities of being an Asian in America? As I’ve found in even trying to write this introduction, it’s extremely difficult, if not impossible, but it’s something my colleague Marissa Wu and I wanted to explore together as we reflect on our identities during APAHM month.

I am a 35-year-old Korean American and daughter of immigrants, who moved to the States in their 20s, where I spent most of my formative years in a racially homogenous city in the South. I am also the beauty director here at PureWow. Marissa is a 26-year-old third-generation Chinese American who grew up in a diverse suburb of San Francisco. She is currently our lifestyle editor.

At first glance, Marissa and I seem to have more differences than similarities. And yet, over the course of our nearly two-hour long conversation, we connected over the core experience of feeling like we lived in liminal spaces throughout our lives. Despite our different upbringings, we both know the feeling of not being seen as Asian nor American enough.

What you’ll read ahead is a condensed transcript of our conversation that took place over Zoom earlier this month.

How the "Model Minority Myth" Impacted Our Identities

MW: I never knew about the “model minority myth” until I wrote my sophomore thesis critiquing Fresh Off the Boat in college. I felt I finally understood why the Asian community valued certain things, and why society had expectations that we be a certain way. It changed my perspective because my whole life I wondered why Asians were stereotyped as being good at math. I’m terrible at math. It seemed there were all these societal expectations on me, and I had no idea why. After learning about it, I had mixed feelings. At first, I was proud that we are so highly regarded as the paradigm of what an immigrant “should be”. But then I started learning more about how it was a fabrication of the government used to pit minorities against each other. I realized it works against me too. I’m expected to conform to this mold that I’ve never fit. Now it’s a burden.

I feel like most of the pressure I felt was from my peers because my parents aren't immigrants. I'm a third-generation Asian American, and I identify more heavily with American culture. My parents are not ‘tiger parents’ and they never told me I had to be a doctor or anything  along those lines. However, my whole family is very STEM oriented. My dad was a biomedical/electrical engineering major and my mom was an accountant. Growing up, I very much felt like the odd one out because there’s a certain language that you speak when you are creative vs when you’re in STEM. My family and I didn't share the same vocabulary. All the while, my friends were in fields like finance, consulting and medicine. It made me question, should I be doing something like that, too? 

JJ: For me, the idea of “model minority” has come up a lot more in recent years. And it’s made me reflect on how it's played a part in my life. I think the ways that it showed up for me are that classic, “put your head down and work hard” mentality. Don’t complain. Don’t speak up. Don’t be a squeaky wheel. It’s something that I am actively trying to unlearn now or at least find a better balance.

As I’ve gotten older and progressed in my career, I often find myself in meetings with people in leadership roles, and I’m trying to find my voice in those rooms. It’s not something that comes easily for me. I’m the type of person who won't say something unless I’ve really thought about it. Sometimes that bothers me, because in our jobs, I think that we're very much rewarded for being outspoken and showing off what we know and the things that we're working on. I’ve been in many brainstorms throughout the years where I see some of my colleagues spout off all the half-baked ideas that come to their minds with zero hesitation. Meanwhile, I’m usually quiet because I’m deep in thought, poking holes in my own ideas. I think, well, that wouldn't work unless we did X, Y and Z. The flip side of this is that by the time that I’ve come to you with an idea, I've already thought through the steps of how to make it happen, which takes a beat.

Overcoming Other’s Perceptions

MW: I went to journalism school in Boston and I felt like an outsider there. The students were mostly white or non-Asian, and there were a handful of wildly wealthy foreign students who were there to get a degree but didn’t necessarily need to make a career out of it. The faculty members weren’t diverse, either. It was mostly white male professors. For the first time, I realized the dichotomy between my perception of myself versus what other people saw.

One year, I was at a conference, and I went to introduce myself to the department head. Everyone always had good things to say about him. I wanted to shake his hand and see what all the hubbub was about. The first thing he said after I introduced myself was, “You speak English really well.” I wanted to punch him. That was the first time I’ve ever really wanted to clock someone. But what could I do? He was such a bigwig in the department. I brushed it off in the moment, but that interaction opened my eyes to the fact that my professors might have a perception of me that I wasn’t even aware of. They probably believed that I was a foreign kid who was there to get a degree, peace out and go back to my “home country” after graduating. They didn’t see me at the Boston Globe news desk. It made me question whether I was capable or less expected to make it in the media because I don’t look like a typical journalist. It was a huge culture shock for me.

JJ: My parents immigrated to the States in their 20s with my brother in tow. We moved around a lot because my dad is a professor. I spent most of my childhood in New Orleans, where I was literally the only Korean kid in my school from kindergarten through eighth grade.

My grandparents came to live with us when I was eight because my dad moved back to Korea to take another job. That was a turning point for me because I was a banana until then—in every sense of the word. (Banana refers to someone who is yellow on the outside, white on the inside. It’s certainly not the most elegant or PC term, but it was a commonly used reference growing up.) I didn’t speak any Korean. I didn't know much about the culture. I don't think that I really took pride in it either. At that age, I desperately wanted to be the same as everyone else in my class, which was white. But my grandmother opened my eyes to the world of K-Pop, Korean dramas, food and culture. I fell in love. That's how I started learning the language and I quickly became immersed.

My dad eventually came back to the States, which prompted another move for our family. After a short stint in California, we ended up in a small town in Maryland during my sophomore year of high school. It was a conservative town and not very diverse. I have this appalling memory of when my class did senior superlatives. I was given “hottest import,” and I had to accept the award in front of the entire student body. Along with a certificate, they gifted me a bag of rice and chopsticks. All this to say that I’ve been in many different environments throughout my life.

Looking back, I never felt like I fully belonged anywhere or to any one group. I recently went to Korea, and even if I'm wearing Korean clothes and I'm speaking the language and I'm with my Korean friends or relatives, people can still tell that I'm from America. I asked my cousin about this once. “How can you tell?” “It's just the way that you carry yourself. It's the way you walk. It's even in your facial expressions. Americans are more open and expressive when they talk.” It was an interesting realization, to feel so proud of my Korean culture and heritage, but to visit “the motherland” and people could tell right away that I'm not from there.

I’ve come to peace with this though. I am as Korean as I am American, and I love being able to pull different parts from each culture into my work, into my relationships and in all the ways I show up in the world.

How We Looked for Permission to Break the Mold

MW: I always wondered why there weren’t more Asians in the arts. Because it's not a typical field that people who have come before us in our familial circles or friend circles enter into, those doors weren't really open for us. It's not a world that we were exposed to often either, so it didn’t really feel like it was in the realm of possibility as a future career path. Instead, you're young and on your own, knocking on everybody's door to see who will take a chance on you. 

It wasn't until I took my gap year after college that I felt empowered to pursue a creative career. I was feeling sort of lost and discouraged when someone gave me permission to be creative. It feels dumb to say I needed permission to do something, but when you're surrounded by a certain way of thinking your entire life, sometimes you need someone to actually tell you that you can be an artist, which is exactly what happened to me. I was crying on this thrifted Persian rug in the Sorbonne at an interactive art installation and the artist approached me and gave me a cookie. She said, “You can be an artist.” I was incredulous. My first thought was “I don’t know if I can be.” Now, four years later, she's one of my most treasured friends—we even did an art exposition together. 

JJ: Whenever the adults in my life would ask me what I wanted to become when I grew up, I would tell them that I wanted to be a K-Pop star. They didn't necessarily say I couldn’t do it, but they certainly didn't encourage it either. They just thought it was something I’d eventually grow out of, and they told me as much. I wonder if that’s where the initial seeds of imposter syndrome were sowed. That feeling of not being “good enough” for something. I would always be in these spaces, like choir or talent shows, and I was always good enough to make the team or get a solo in the song, but I never felt like I was the best at it.

You mentioned earlier that your friend gave you permission to be an artist. You also said that, maybe unsurprisingly, she's not Asian. To her, it seems like an obvious thing. Of course you can be an artist. But for you, it was revelatory at that time because that’s not what you saw around you growing up. I've thought about that a lot. I see people who grew up with the messaging that you can be whatever you want to be. The constant affirmation of “you're so talented” from their parents at an early age and how it's shaped their view of the world and their confidence in how they show up in it. I have friends who seem to move through life without questioning whether they're good enough to do something. They have a built-in confidence that I often wish I had, but you know, I recently heard someone say that confidence can be built in the doing of something. “You are what you consistently do.” I am a writer because I consistently write. I am a dancer because I consistently dance. I think that's been a big part of my work as an adult—giving myself permission to do the things I love doing without worrying so much about how good I am at them.

Cocokind’s Priscilla Tsai Is Challenging the Beauty Industry's Messaging That We’re ‘Not Enough’

After completing my undergrad in 2016, I looked for a mentor who could guide me into the next chapter of my career. While I had many women in my life (shoutout out to my mom) I looked up to, I longed for someone in my own field. As an intern, I had a small pool of potential mentors—the associate editor who taught me how to speak up for myself, the social media manager from whom I learned how to network and the editorial assistant that help me revamp my resume for future employers. But now, as a full-time journalist, I’m still in the search phase. See, similar to the difficulty of finding a BIPOC therapist or BIPOC doctor (that’s a struggle for another day), I’ve always wanted a BIPOC mentor, but always fell short in the pursuit.

I’ll probably get some eye rolls and loads of angry emails asking, “Why does your mentor have to be BIPOC?” or “Why does everything have to be about race?” Well, if you have to ask me that then your privilege is showing. After all, I’m in no way saying a white person isn’t qualified to be my doctor, my therapist or my mentor. In fact, I have had many remarkable white women guide me throughout my career. But there’s something rewarding about seeking help, support and advice from someone who looks like me. 

So, Why Is It So Difficult to Find One? 

One word: representation. Research shows that BIPOC professionals are still underrepresented across career fields—not to mention in high-level roles. This lack of representation makes it harder for mentees to seek out folks of color who’ve advanced in their careers. Oh and if you think mentorship doesn’t impact success, just look at Forbes’s report that states that people who have benefited from a mentor/mentee relationship are more likely to receive raises, be promoted and overall get the support they need to grow in their careers. 

Without that BIPOC representation, many (like me!) feel left out of the conversation. One study conducted by McKinsey & Company found that “Black employees lack the sponsorship and allyship to support their advancement” with over 67 percent reporting they don’t have a sponsor even when their companies have programs put in place. Meanwhile, another report shows 65 percent compared to 16 percent of white employees feel they have to work twice as hard to get to that level of advancement and access to said senior roles. 

Bottom line: Having a BIPOC mentor to counsel you, advocate for you and influence others around you can make such a difference. When you feel like you’re the only person of color in the room, having someone in your corner that understands and looks like you can be such a positive experience. 

So What Are Our Options?

There are, of course, some organizations working to right this wrong. Black Career Women’s Network, We All Grow Latina and Asian American Professional Association are all groups that strive to offer coaching opportunities, mentoring programs and career workshops. A great example is We All Grow Latina, which has an AMIGAS program that supports professionals with an exclusive member directory and mentorship opportunities for the community. "The WAG team [is] leading the way for us. This day will forever be a core memory for us," shares one follower after attending a We All Grow Latina business event this year.

There are also ways we can continue to advocate for ourselves within existing systems. I recently signed up for my company’s mentorship program and even as went as far as specifiying in the form that I’d prefer to have someone that’s BIPOC as my mentor. 

And there’s always the old fashion way of reaching out to someone via email or Linkedin. (I’ll admit, as an introvert I’ve been avoiding this option for a long time.) But it’s not like it has to be a CEO. I can reach out to a coworker, a friend or even someone in a mid-level position. 

Some may say mentoring is like dating and that it just happens organically. But much like my dating life, I’ve grown impatient with letting things just…be. James Zhang, cofounder and CTO of The Bright App said it best in an interview with Lendio: “An older white man who grew up working alongside mostly white men, who went to school with mostly white men, and who had close relationships with mostly white men, is simply far more likely to develop an organic mentorship relationship with another white man than he would with a young Black woman.”

I still have hopes for finding my BIPOC mentor, though. I mean who knows, maybe my future mentor is reading this right now.

6 Ways BIPOC Women Can Advocate for Themselves in the Workplace