

Around this time last year, I got a call from my cousin. I couldn’t pick up at that moment, so I listened to the voicemail when I was free. “Hey, just calling to see if you heard the news. You were the first person I thought of when I found out about [insert my ex’s name here]. I’m sorry,” he said. Of course, my mind didn’t properly process what I had just heard. For some reason, I associated it with a family member or even a friend, but not my ex.
My initial reaction…pure shock.
After that voicemail, I checked my socials and sure enough, the news had begun circulating. I then got another text from a mutual friend of ours, similar to my cousin’s voicemail. “Hey, are you okay? You were the first person I thought of when I heard the news.” I simply said, “Thank you, and yes, I’m okay. It’s just a sad situation.”
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In full transparency, my ex and I hadn't spoken in at least three years prior to his passing, and our relationship had ended several years before that. Though we no longer had direct ties or regular communication, I was always connected to him in some way: through our close mutual friends, his family members that I still occasionally spoke to on social media, or the fact that the health issues he battled and succumbed to started when we dated.
To give a little of the backstory, he battled a chronic illness of sorts. He was very transparent about his journey with his own social media following, and would often reference a medical incident that he says was the beginning of it all.
That incident happened in my apartment living room, mere hours after we spent time with our families for the holidays. It was traumatic, to say the least. He wound up in the hospital for days, and doctors suggested that if he wanted a better quality of life, he would need to undergo a major surgery in the coming weeks.
That surgery date came so quickly. Although we had an argument just days before, I was by his side bright and early that morning. Standing with his mother, I kissed him and told him I loved him before they wheeled him back.
To say I was scared, was an understatement. It was an all-day procedure, one that we would learn he flat-lined at least three times. But prayer works, and later that day, I was there as he opened his eyes for the first time.
Fast-forward to somewhere between the surgery and him being moved from the ICU into general recovery, I found out some “not-so-good news” about him and our relationship, and I chose to end things when he was healthy enough to talk.
There wasn’t a heated argument—in fact, he even said I was too calm—but I made it clear that this was the end of us, although I was here if he needed me as he recovered.
Through lots of therapy, I was able to forgive him. We developed a casual friendship in the coming years and even ended up at the weddings of our mutual friends and other events together. Despite our romantic relationship being a total fail, there was never any hatred between us.
We would check in every few years with a joke or two and then go about our lives until the next check-in. So, when I heard that he was no longer physically here, I didn’t know how or what to feel—and I still don’t.
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On one hand, I felt like I wasn’t allowed to grieve his passing because our last check-in happened over three years prior. So, in a sense, I felt like there wasn’t any reason for me to be sad over someone I barely spoke to. Not to mention the way our relationship ended. On the other hand, after speaking with one of his family members and learning what he had endured health-wise those last few years, it broke my heart.
It took me back to that day in my living room, the fear I saw on his face, as well as the times when he opened up to me about how he just wanted to get through his medical issues and live a normal life. I knew how much he just wanted to live and how hard he fought.
Though I intended to be there to show support to his family, I couldn’t pull myself to attend his memorial service because, once again, I didn’t think I had the same right as those he actually talked to regularly (in addition to the fact that I didn’t know his dating status at the time and didn’t want to overstep any boundaries).
I found myself going back through our very brief DM history in the days and weeks after, hoping it would bring me some closure. But it only left me with regret for not checking in more or even responding to the last message he sent me— “What’s up, player?” (His way of breaking the ice when we spoke.)
We’re officially at the one-year mark since his passing, and for some reason, the emotions have begun stirring up all over again. My mind is once again doing this series of mental gymnastics, telling me, ‘Girl, let it go’. But also, ‘it’s okay to grieve the loss’. Maybe it's the seasons changing, or maybe it's a genuine sadness from not being able to say goodbye.
Either way, it’s definitely a situation and a period in my life that will forever be etched in my brain. Because at the end of the day, he was someone I once loved and the heart never forgets—even if it didn’t have a fairytale ending.
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Eva Marcille On Starring In 'Jason’s Lyric Live' & Being An Audacious Black Woman
Eva Marcille has taken her talents to the stage. The model-turned-actress is starring in her first play, Jason’s Lyric Live alongside Allen Payne, K. Michelle, Treach, and others.
The play, produced by Je’Caryous Johnson, is an adaptation of the film, which starred Allen Payne as Jason and Jada Pinkett Smith as Lyric. Allen reprised his role as Jason for the play and Eva plays Lyric.
While speaking to xoNecole, Eva shares that she’s a lot like the beloved 1994 character in many ways. “Lyric is so me. She's the odd flower. A flower nonetheless, but definitely not a peony,” she tells us.
“She's not the average flower you see presented, and so she reminds me of myself. I'm a sunflower, beautiful, but different. And what I loved about her character then, and even more so now, is that she was very sure of herself.
"Sure of what she wanted in life and okay to sacrifice her moments right now, to get what she knew she deserved later. And that is me. I'm not an instant gratification kind of a person. I am a long game. I'm not a sprinter, I'm a marathon.
America first fell in love with Eva when she graced our screens on cycle 3 of America’s Next Top Model in 2004, which she emerged as the winner. Since then, she's ventured into different avenues, from acting on various TV series like House of Payne to starring on Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Je-Caryous Johnson Entertainment
Eva praises her castmates and the play’s producer, Je’Caryous for her positive experience. “You know what? Je’Caryous fuels my audacity car daily, ‘cause I consider myself an extremely audacious woman, and I believe in what I know, even if no one else knows it, because God gave it to me. So I know what I know. That is who Je’Caryous is.”
But the mom of three isn’t the only one in the family who enjoys acting. Eva reveals her daughter Marley has also caught the acting bug.
“It is the most adorable thing you can ever see. She’s got a part in her school play. She's in her chorus, and she loves it,” she says. “I don't know if she loves it, because it's like, mommy does it, so maybe I should do it, but there is something about her.”
Overall, Eva hopes that her contribution to the role and the play as a whole serves as motivation for others to reach for the stars.
“I want them to walk out with hope. I want them to re-vision their dreams. Whatever they were. Whatever they are. To re-see them and then have that thing inside of them say, ‘You know what? I'm going to do that. Whatever dream you put on the back burner, go pick it up.
"Whatever dream you've accomplished, make a new dream, but continue to reach for the stars. Continue to reach for what is beyond what people say we can do, especially as [a] Black collective but especially as Black women. When it comes to us and who we are and what we accept and what we're worth, it's not about having seen it before. It's about knowing that I deserve it.”
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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Why I’m No Longer Feeling Guilty About Moving Home To Be A Stay-At-Home Daughter
What is a dream deferred in 2025 with the rising cost of living, a trash job market, and an administration that is determined to make my life a living hell? Chile, let’s get into it.
For as long as I can remember, I have had dreams of being the Black Carrie Bradshaw, prancing around New York City as a fashion writer. The stylish apartment, the popping dating life, the impeccable wardrobe — that was all I wanted. (Lucky for me, the impeccable wardrobe has always been a constant.)
Bishop Carrie once said, “In New York, they say you’re always looking for a job, a boyfriend, or an apartment. So, let’s say you have two out of three, and they’re fabulous. Why do we let the one thing we don’t have affect how we feel about all the things we do have?”
What a powerful question.
Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made Of
In 2022, I made the exciting move to New York City. Everything seemed to fall into place effortlessly: I secured a comfortable apartment and found myself immersed in a thriving freelance market. I even embarked on a new romantic relationship, a first for me. However, the tide began to turn by mid-2023. The once-abundant freelance opportunities dwindled as various platforms faced funding cuts and the media industry experienced a downturn.
Fast forward to 2024, and my mom, the woman who gave everything to raise me, is experiencing some health challenges. It felt as though the universe was pushing me towards a change. Around the same time, I began to question my career path as a fashion writer. The continual need to be "on" and present everywhere was exhausting, and the ups and downs of the job application process, including interviews and rejections, took a significant toll on my mental health.
The allure of New York City, with its bustling streets, towering skyscrapers, and the promise of endless possibilities, was beginning to fade.
The vibrant and exciting metropolis of the past now felt overwhelming and chaotic. The constant noise, the crowds, the fast-paced lifestyle – it all started to feel like a suffocating burden. The city that never sleeps had become a source of anxiety and restlessness, and the charm of the New York state of mind was slowly giving way to a sense of disarray and unease. There was always this sense of living in a dream coupled with overstimulation.
Given the current state of the world—rising costs of living, shifting career landscapes, and the emotional weight of supporting aging parents—it was time for me to be so real with myself. Did I really need to be in New York to be a fashion writer? Because opportunities have been presenting themselves that aren’t tied to location or a timeline.
The answer became so clear to me — it was time to go home.
Shifting the Narrative: Embracing the Return Home as an Empowered Woman
For generations, the concept of moving back home has been shrouded in negativity, often perceived as a regression, particularly for women who have strived for and achieved independence.
I want to challenge this outdated narrative and reframe the return home as a conscious, empowered choice. This exploration delves into the multifaceted emotions associated with moving back home, dismantling the guilt that often accompanies this decision, and embracing the evolving role of a daughter as a source of strength and support for my family.
From a cultural standpoint, returning home is also a radical act of preservation.
In a society that often devalues Black familial bonds and misrepresents our communities, choosing to be close to kin is an assertion of our values. It’s about honoring the aunties who raised us, the cousins who feel more like siblings, and the grandparents who built legacies from scratch. Our family structures are ever-evolving, stretching to support and uplift in ways traditional Western models don’t always understand.
When we come home, we’re not just coming back to a place—we’re coming back to a lineage of resilience and love.
In This Economy…
The economic realities of today make this decision even more practical. Skyrocketing rent, stagnant wages, and inflation have forced many of us to reconsider what independence really means. Living at home, or closer to home, can offer the breathing room to save, strategize, and build with intention. But beyond the numbers, there’s an emotional currency we gain too.
Home can be a sanctuary—a space where we don’t have to code-switch, perform, or constantly explain ourselves.
In a world that often demands our labor but rarely affirms our humanity, returning home can be the most freeing, grounded choice of all. And in full transparency, there’s a part of me that felt shame about going back home to Memphis out of concern for how others would see it. Memphis isn’t as bright and shiny as Denver and New York, these big cities where I had created a life and made a name for myself.
But why should I care? No one is paying these bills and dealing with the ups and downs of working in fashion with me. It’s just me. I’ve finally come to a point where I realize that I can no longer live for the cheers because if I do, I will die by the boos.
I am most concerned with the way my life feels instead of how it looks.
I Thought I Was Failing — But I Was Finally Healing
With that said, I am now rebranding myself as a "stay-at-home daughter."
More than ever, I want to highlight the ways in which women can contribute to their families while also pursuing personal growth and fulfillment. This exploration feels like a way to inspire and empower women to embrace their decision to return home, shedding societal expectations and redefining what it means to be a modern daughter.
I have the deepest feeling that this chapter is going to be healing for me and my mother, and we deserve.
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Featured image courtesy of Joce Blake