As Told To is a recurring segment on xoNecole where real women are given a platform to tell their stories in first-person narrative as told to a writer. If you have a story you'd like to share but aren't sure about how to put it into words, contact us at submissions@xonecole.com with the subject "As Told To" for your story to be featured.
This is Dana's story, as told to Charmin Michelle.
So, funny story: I was once pulled over on my way home from work for driving 55 mph in a 45. Three male cops surrounded me, two of them with their hands on their firearms, all three of them with flashlights shining in my face. I was surprisingly calm, even after I was asked four times if I had been drinking, twice if I was on drugs or narcotics, and once if I had any weapons in my vehicle—all before even being asked to hand over my driver's license.
I instead got out my pilot's license and was "about" to hand it to them and looked at it and said, "Oh, wait...that's my pilot's license…" which I then handed them my drivers license. Head honcho asks, "Oh, you're a pilot?!"
Checkmate.
I knew from that moment I had him in my pocket. "Yes sir, I am," I replied.
White men love that shit.
In typical fashion, we began to discuss some of the planes that I have flown and other general flight-related questions I'm always asked when people find out I fly planes.
Super long story short, I didn't get a ticket. Apparently, not only is white privilege a thing, but having a white male-dominated occupation or hobby is a privilege too.
The first time I had ever been on an airplane was a JetBlue flight from Orlando (MCO) to Newark. From the moment we took off, I knew I wanted a career in aviation. In middle school, a classmate and I would dream about flying, not knowing I would speak it into existence almost 14 years later.
My passion for flying was solidified as a kid on an overnight British Airways flight to Europe. I wrote a letter to each of the flight attendants and flight crew members, thanking them for the most amazing vacation that hadn't even really started yet. One of the flight attendants approached me a few minutes later and said in his silky British accent, "This note was very kind—would you like a tour of the airplane?"
It was a Boeing 747.
He took me to first class upstairs, shared the most delicious British chocolate, and introduced me to the rest of the crew, who were just as kind. Probably the closest thing to Heaven On Earth I had experienced yet. For years after, every time I got to a gate, I would always pick the brains of the pilots waiting for the airplane to arrive.
Down the line, I went on to graduate from Florida State with a degree in music. I got a boring post-graduate job where I would pass the Orlando Executive Airport every day on my way in. One day, instead of driving past, I drove into the parking lot. I walked in, went straight up to the woman at the counter and said, "I want to fly airplanes." She responded with, "OK, let's get you started."
Courtesy of Dana Rozier
When I told my parents I wanted to fly, they weren't surprised. They knew I always had a vast interest in many things, and they have always supported the life decisions I've made. I went from receiving a music degree, to paying my way through flight school. To be honest, I wasn't sure how it was going to happen; I wasn't sure if it was going to happen. To aim for something that was once so foreign to me, and because I hadn't known any pilots before deciding to pursue this profession, a little voice in my head told me that doing it wasn't likely.
Until I started doing it.
A year ago, on a flight from Orlando-Sanford International Airport to Deland, my flight instructor and I were practicing. And, after one of the landings in my favorite plane to fly (Cessna 172- P model), he had me perform what we call a "taxi" off the runway and park. We did the shut down and he hopped out of the airplane. I was about to get out as well, when he said, "No, stay in there. You're ready."
At the moment, I didn't have time to be nervous. I looked at the checklist, did my start up, and was off. My first solo flight. Those were some of the best landings I had toward the beginning of my journey. I was fearless. We had a mini celebration, and my instructor wrote on my backpack, documenting my first solo. One of the greatest days of my life.
I often reference my first solo when discussing what it takes to be a pilot because being one is directly synonymous to your focus, discipline, ability to multitask, self-trust, and pure fearlessness. Being thrown in the ringer suddenly had awakened the monster in me, and ever since, my sense of adventure intensified. I've swam with sharks and alligators, and I've parachuted on a whim. There have been times where I've even randomly hopped in a plane and flown from Orlando to Tallahassee (300 miles) just for pancakes.
Yet, through my adventures, I've become very mindful that stereotypes and assumptions plague black and brown women in this industry.
For some reason, when people see women and hear "flight school", they think "flight attendant", so supreme tenacity is required. My sister-queen and mentor once posted a photo of her flying a Boeing 737 with the caption: "Whenever you see a successful woman, look out for three men who are going out of their way to try to block her." (Yulia Tymoshenko) and this instantly became one of my favorite quotes; it has always stuck with me.
Because a pilot that looks like me is so taboo, being one means developing the skill of disregarding—and correcting—the microaggressions and naysayers that come with this industry. I'm routinely questioned, and surprised at how often people approach me with their questions and confusion—as if to wonder how I had the audacity to know how to fly planes. I've been asked, "Why are you here?" or "Wait, so you're going to be a flight attendant?" more times than necessary.
No. I'm flying the plane.
To decompress from the stresses, I surround myself with those who heal me. Any time spent with The Lord, my family, my dog, @OliviathePooch, and myself (which usually is in the car listening to audiobooks, or watching movies on Netflix before bed) are all priceless moments. Also moments of stillness fill my cup; the simple things. Sure, I work a lot, but I don't do anything that I don't enjoy—whether flying or reserving moments for self-care.
Courtesy of Dana Rozier
Today, thankfully, there has been a major shift in more POCs pursuing aviation, and this trend is so fulfilling. A majority of the pilots I'm acquainted with on social media are pilots of color, and almost all have influenced other POCs to start flying as well. Some of these wonderful women are ArabiaSolis, Flylady_Gizzy, AviatrixAddy, and so much more. The support is endless, it's a beautiful thing.
And I feel most beautiful existing in these moments. Contributing to something bigger than myself and proving myself (and others) wrong, going after something I want, and taking the initiative to get it.
Praise from strangers keeps me going as well. Acquaintances have told me on numerous occasions that they find the fact that I fly admirable, and how they've never seen a pilot of color—which, I, myself, have yet to have a black female pilot flying one of my commercial flights. But that's the point of it all, right? That's why we're here, that's why I'm here: to be or to get inspired, and to inspire, provoke and manifest change in our community.
Makes me glow.
Currently, less than 3% of American commercial pilots are African American, and even less than that are African American women. I am showing you in living color that we are, or are going to, progress in aviation. I'm committed to swaying these stats towards us.
And I'm bringing a few brown ladies with me.
For more of Dana, follow her on Instagram.
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Featured image courtesy of Dana Rozier
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So, we handpicked one hundred It Girls who embody that palpable It Factor moving through us as young Black women, the kind of motion lighting up the world both IRL and across the internet.
It Girl 100 became xoNecole’s most successful program, with the hashtag organically reaching more than forty million impressions on Instagram in just twenty-four hours. Yes, it caught on like wildfire because we celebrated some of the most brilliant and influential GenZennial women of color setting trends and shaping culture. But more than that, it resonated because the women we celebrated felt seen.
Many were already known in their industries for keeping this generation fly and lit, but rarely received recognition or flowers. It Girl 100 became a safe space to be uplifted, and for us as Black women to bask in what felt like an era of our brilliance, beauty, and boundless influence on full display.
And then, almost overnight, it was as if the rug was pulled from under us as Black women, as the It Girls of the world.
Our much-needed, much-deserved season of ease and soft living quickly metamorphosed into a time of self-preservation and survival. Our motion and economic progression seemed strategically slowed, our light under siege.
The air feels heavier now. The headlines colder. Our Black girl magic is being picked apart and politicized for simply existing.
With that climate shift, as we prepare to launch our second annual It Girl 100 honoree list, our team has had to dig deep on the purpose and intention behind this year’s list. Knowing the spirit of It Girl 100 is about motion, sauce, strides, and progression, how do we celebrate amid uncertainty and collective grief when the juice feels like it is being squeezed out of us?
As we wrestled with that question, we were reminded that this tension isn’t new. Black women have always had to find joy in the midst of struggle, to create light even in the darkest corners. We have carried the weight of scrutiny for generations, expected to be strong, to serve, to smile through the sting. But this moment feels different. It feels deeply personal.
We are living at the intersection of liberation and backlash. We are learning to take off our capes, to say no when we are tired, to embrace softness without apology.
And somehow, the world has found new ways to punish us for it.
In lifestyle, women like Kayla Nicole and Ayesha Curry have been ridiculed for daring to choose themselves. Tracee Ellis Ross was labeled bitter for speaking her truth about love. Meghan Markle, still, cannot breathe without critique.
In politics, Kamala Harris, Letitia James, and Jasmine Crockett are dragged through the mud for standing tall in rooms not built for them.
In sports, Angel Reese, Coco Gauff, and Taylor Townsend have been reminded that even excellence will not shield you from racism or judgment.
In business, visionaries like Diarrha N’Diaye-Mbaye and Melissa Butler are fighting to keep their dreams alive in an economy that too often forgets us first.
Even our icons, Beyoncé, Serena, and SZA, have faced criticism simply for evolving beyond the boxes society tried to keep them in.
From everyday women to cultural phenoms, the pattern is the same. Our light is being tested.
And yet, somehow, through it all, we are still showing up as that girl, and that deserves to be celebrated.
Because while the world debates our worth, we keep raising our value. And that proof is all around us.
This year alone, Naomi Osaka returned from motherhood and mental health challenges to reach the semifinals of the US Open. A’ja Wilson claimed another MVP, reminding us that beauty and dominance can coexist. Brandy and Monica are snatching our edges on tour. Kahlana Barfield Brown sold out her new line in the face of a retailer that had been canceled. And Melissa Butler’s company, The Lip Bar, is projecting a forty percent surge in sales.
We are no longer defining strength by how much pain we can endure. We are defining it by the unbreakable light we continue to radiate.
We are the women walking our daily steps and also continuing to run solid businesses. We are growing in love, taking solo trips, laughing until it hurts, raising babies and ideas, drinking our green juice, and praying our peace back into existence.
We are rediscovering the joy of rest and realizing that softness is not weakness, it is strategy.
And through it all, we continue to lift one another. Emma Grede is creating seats at the table. Valeisha Butterfield has started a fund for jobless Black women. Arian Simone is leading in media with fearless conviction. We are pouring into each other in ways the world rarely sees but always feels.
So yes, we are in the midst of societal warfare. Yes, we are being tested. Yes, we are facing economic strain, political targeting, and public scrutiny. But even war cannot dim a light that is divinely ours.
And we are still shining.
And we are still softening.
And we are still creating.
And we are still It.
That is the quiet magic of Black womanhood, our ability to hold both truth and triumph in the same breath, to say yes, and to life’s contradictions.
It is no coincidence that this year, as SheaMoisture embraces the message “Yes, And,” they stand beside us as partners in celebrating this class of It Girls. Because that phrase, those two simple words, capture the very essence of this moment.
Yes, we are tired. And we are still rising.
Yes, we are questioned. And we are the answer.
Yes, we are bruised. And we are still beautiful.
This year’s It Girl 100 is more than a list. It is a love letter to every Black woman who dares to live out loud in a world that would rather she whisper. This year’s class is living proof of “Yes, And,” women who are finding ways to thrive and to heal, to build and to rest, to lead and to love, all at once.
It is proof that our joy is not naive, our success not accidental. It is the reminder that our light has never needed permission.
So without further ado, we celebrate the It Girl 100 Class of 2025–2026.
We celebrate the millions of us who keep doing it with grace, grit, and glory.
Because despite it all, we still shine.
Because we are still her.
Because we are still IT, girl.
Meet all 100 women shaping culture in the It Girl 100 Class of 2025. View the complete list of honorees here.
Featured image by xoStaff
Then there were those who gave up their zip code altogether and found a permanent home in the skies. After years spent recruiting students for a university, Lisa-Gaye Shakespeare became a full-time travel influencer and founded her travel company, Shakespeare Agency. And she's not alone.
These stories mirror the experiences of women across the world. For millions, the pandemic induced a seismic shift in priorities and desires. Corporate careers that were once hailed as the ultimate “I made it” moment in one's career were pushed to the back burner as women quit their jobs in search of a more self-fulfilling purpose.
xoNecole spoke to these three Black women who used the pandemic as a springboard to make their wildest dreams a reality, the lessons they learned, and posed the question of whether they’ll ever return to cubicle life.
Answers have been edited for context and length.
xoNecole: How did the pandemic lead to you leaving the cubicle?
Randi: I was becoming stagnant. I was working in mortgage and banking but I felt like my personality was too big for that job! From there, I transitioned to radio but was laid off during the pandemic. That’s what made me go full throttle with entrepreneurship.
Gabrielle: I moved around a lot for work. Five times over a span of seven years. I knew I needed a break because I had experienced so much. So, I just quit one day. Effective immediately. I didn’t know what I was going to do, I just knew I needed a break and to just regroup.
Lisa-Gaye: I was working in recruiting at a university and my dream job just kind of fell into my lap! But, I never got to fully enjoy it before the world shut down in March [2020] and I was laid off. On top of that, I was stuck in Miami because Jamaica had closed its borders due to the pandemic before I was able to return.
Randi O
xoN: Tell us about your journey after leaving Corporate America.
Randi: I do it all now! I have a podcast, I’m an on-air talent, I act, and I own a public relations company that focuses on social media engagement. It’s all from my network. When you go out and start a business, you can’t just say, “Okay I’m done with Corporate America,” and “Let me do my own thing.” If you don’t build community, if you don’t build a network it's going to be very hard to sustain.
Gabrielle: I realized in New York, there was not a lot to do for Black lesbians and queer folks. We don’t really have dedicated bars and spaces so I started doing events and it took off. I started focusing on my brand, Raw Honey. I opened a co-working space, and I was able to host an NYC Pride event in front of 100,000 people. I hit the ground running with Raw Honey. My events were all women coming to find community and come together with other lesbians and queer folks. I found my purpose in that.
Lisa-Gaye: After being laid off, I wrote out all of my passions and that’s how I came up with [my company] Shakespeare Agency. It was all of the things that I loved to do under one umbrella. The pandemic pulled that out of me. I had a very large social media following, so I pitched to hotels that I would feature them on my blog and social media. This reignited my passion for travel. I took the rest of the year to refocus my brand to focus solely on being a content creator within the travel space.
Gabrielle
xoN: What have you learned about yourself during your time as an entrepreneur?
Randi: [I learned] the importance of my network and community that I created. When I was laid off I was still keeping those relationships with people that I used to work with. So it was easy for me to transition into social media management and I didn’t have to start from scratch.
Gabrielle: The biggest thing I learned about myself was my own personal identity as a Black lesbian and how much I had assimilated into straight and corporate culture and not being myself. Now, I feel comfortable and confident being my authentic self. Now, I'm not sacrificing anything else for my career. I have a full life. I have friends. I have a social life. And when you are happy and have a full quality of life, I feel like [I] can have more longevity in my career.
Lisa-Gaye: [I'm doing] the best that I've ever done. The discipline that I’m building within myself. Nobody is saying, ‘Oh you have to be at work at this time.’ There’s no boss saying, ‘Why are you late?’ But, if I’m laying in bed at 10 a.m. then it's me saying [to myself], 'Okay, Lisa, get up, it's time for you to start working!’ That’s all on me.
xoNecole: What mistakes do you want to help people avoid when leaving Corporate America?
Randi: You have to learn about the highs and lows of entrepreneurship. You have a fast season and a slow season and I started to learn that when you're self-employed the latter season hits hard. Don't get caught up on the lows, just keep going and don't stop. I’m glad I did.
Gabrielle: I think everyone should quit their job and just figure it out for a second. You will discover so much about yourself when you take a second to just focus on you. Your skill set will always be there. You can’t be afraid of what will happen when you bet on yourself.
Lisa-Gaye: When it comes to being an influencer the field is saturated and a lot of people suffer from imposter syndrome. There is nothing wrong with being an imposter but find out how to make it yours, how to make it better. If you go to the store, you see 10 million different brands of bread! But you are choosing the brand that you like because you like that particular flavor.
So be an imposter, but be the best imposter of yourself and add your own flair, your own flavor. Make the better bread. The bread that you want.
Lisa-Gaye Shakespeare
xoNecole: Will you ever return to your 9 to 5?
Randi: I wouldn’t go back to Corporate America. But I don’t mind working under someone. A lot of people try to get into this business saying, “I can't work under anyone.” That’s not necessarily the reason to start a business because you're always going to answer to somebody. Clients, brands, there’s always someone else involved.
Gabrielle: I went back! I really needed a break and I gave myself that. But, I realized I’m a corporate girl, [and] I enjoy the work that I do. I’m good at it and I really missed that side of myself. I have different sides of me and my whole identity is not Raw Honey or my queerness. A big side of me is business and that’s why I love having my career. Now I feel like my best self.
Lisa-Gaye: I really don’t. For right now, I love working for myself. It's gratifying, it's challenging, it's exciting. It’s a big deal for me to say I own my own business. That I am my own boss, and I'm a Black woman doing it.
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Featured image courtesy of Lisa-Gaye Shakespeare
Originally published on February 6, 2023