The first time I realized that I was "just another American" was probably one of the hardest lessons I've ever received as an adult.
From 2005-2006, I was deployed with the USS Theodore Roosevelt Strike Group to the Middle East Area of Operation. That meant that we were chasing pirates, getting side eyes from Middle Eastern and European locals, and turning up during port visits. During one of our port visits to Bahrain, I got the chance to get my hair braided by an African women, which I thought would be the highlight of my deployment.
First of all, these women from "the motherland" were insanely gorgeous, and I thought that while they did my hair, we would have some amazing conversations - I was black, they were black, and we were all magical women because our amazing melanin connected us.
Tuh! To make a long story short, they made it very, very clear that the only thing we shared in common was our skin tone, and even that was questionable. It was the most uncomfortable braiding session ever. The way they were acting, they only wanted my money, they provided me a service, and once they were finished they wanted me out of there. I couldn't get out of that shop fast enough.
But they weren't the only ones who felt that way. During every port visit, I was told time and time again that I was "just another American." Sometimes they were nice about it because I wore a uniform. Others hated me because I was alive and American. As a black woman whose family members were active fighters during the Civil Rights Movement, it hurt like hell hearing what foreigners thought about me. But what could I do about it besides hold myself to high standards, and hope that people would see my heart before my country's flag?
This is why I wasn't mad at all when The View co-host Whoopi Goldberg said that she was an "American" and not "African-American" a few days ago during the Hot Topics segment of the show.
If you haven't been in the know, Whoopi went on a rant about seeking refuge overseas because of Donald Trump's presidential bid. Lord knows most of us agrees with her on that subject!
But what she said next put some people off. She went into a passionate speech about being an American woman, and not an African-American woman. She said,
“You know what uh uh! This is my country...My mother, my grandmother, my great-grand folks, we busted ass to be here. I’m sorry. I’m an American. I’m not an African-American, I’m not a chick American, I’m an American!”
I know, I know. Some people probably feel like Whoopi is being a "coon" after spilling her guts on the subject. After all, the other View co-host Raven Symone got drug through the dirt when she said that she was "American" during her 2014 Oprah interview. And the people who were doing the dragging session had very valid points. "White" people, and those census surveys, see us as African-American, right? Well you're 100 percent correct.
But the other truth is that when you step outside of this country, you're "just another American." In today's tumultuous political climate, this could be a term of endearment in war torn countries. "Just another American" means we are rescuing someone's family from death. It means that we are feeding children who are facing their final hours because of malnutrition due to political struggle. During those times, I proudly stripped myself of being "African-American", and stood with my military brothers and sisters by following the orders of my Commander-in-Chief, no matter what I thought of his policies. During those times, the word African-American was far less important than being a human being, in my opinion.
To others, "just another American" is a badge of shame. To them, the flag I represent is synonymous with target practice. Those people could care less about my melanin, because the rhetoric or policies the Americans I fought for trumps what's in my heart. I was "just another American", and to them that was something I should truly hate.
When I set foot back in U.S. territory as a combat veteran, I came back with a new sense of honor. I am proud as hell of the contributions my ancestors made to my country. I feel dignified to be the daughter of slaves who broke their necks and backs to afford me with the opportunities that I have today, and I wouldn't change that for anything in the world. But I am also an American, and I'm honored to wear that title. Let me spell out what that means:
I honorably represented my country as I helped to feed dying families, as they made a dangerous voyage from Somalia to another land, knowing that they were going to be killed before they saw the sun set on the horizon. At that time, I was an American and a human being.
I proudly stood at attention and gave 11 of my 17 military brothers a final hand salute while a bugler played "Taps," as they were laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetery following a deadly helicopter crash. At that time, I was a mother burying several women's sons who defended our country, and we were all Americans.
I held my head high, and let people of all colors in a social media group call me a "race-baiting n-gger" and a "coon" - all at once - for reporting difficult stories when I was a social media editor for a major news corporation. To them, I wasn't worthy to be called a human being, but I was still an American.
[Tweet "Yes I'm a black woman, and I'm magical by right."]
But the American flag I've fought for and represented will never ever be a source of shame. I'm not fluid when I say I'm American. It is what I am, and if that makes you feel ashamed of me, then so be it.
As Fox 5 DC reporter Shawn Yancy said in a Facebook post on the subject,
"No... I'm not denying my roots. I know that at some point in my family tree, my ancestors were taken from Africa in the slave trade and sold here in America.I'm not denying my culture by saying I'm not African American. I'm embracing myself and my culture... by declaring that I'm a proud American, who is also black."
I am both black and American, and I wear both with dignity, honor, and pride.
Watch the segment below, and tell us your thoughts.
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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
Despite launching media careers from different pathways, the two New York-based women have forged a friendship where they can discuss their ambitions and challenges.
Both women are part of xoNecole’s It Girl 100 Class of 2025, recognized in the Viral Voices category for the impact they’ve made through storytelling, creativity, and authenticity. Together, they represent what it means to build an "It Girl" brand with integrity and depth. In the spirit of SheaMoisture’s "Yes, And" ethos, Les and Kayla embody the freedom to be multi-layered as women evolving boldly into every version of themselves.
This conversation has been condensed and lightly edited for clarity
On Forging Their Own Paths
Les Alfred: Being a Jane of all trades is incredibly challenging. And one of the challenges I've faced is that the scope of what podcasters now need to do has increased so much. When I first interviewed you in 2019, I was still very new at it, but I remember being on a Skype call with you from my bedroom in Seattle. That was how I ran the show. And that was good enough. That is absolutely not good enough these days. The scope and the quality keeps increasing, but the resources that you have don't necessarily increase in order to remain competitive.
I get asked so many questions from people who want to get into podcasts and they want to get started. Most of the time, I'm just like, 'I don't have tips for you.' Because, one, I don't know what it's like to start in this current environment. Two, I know what it takes to contend and be consistent in this environment. The barrier of entry is a lot higher in terms of having something of quality than it was before.
On Balancing Ambition and Rest
Kayla Greaves: I've had to make a very clear effort to slow down and just not take on as much. Yes, you're running a business, but you're also living your life. I had one of those days yesterday. I just laid down and listened to white noise for hours because I just needed my brain to just be clear. I called a friend. I cried.
I'm starting over again today. The sun is out. It's a new day. And that's just sometimes what you have to do. You can't show up for your audience or for other people, if you can't show for yourself. I think that creativity comes from a place of living your life and having genuine experiences, and then sharing those experiences through your art.
"I had to give myself permission to let myself grow publicly in ways that I'd already done personally."
Courtesy
On Evolving Through Growth and Rebranding
Les: I didn't create Balanced Black Girl until 2018, but I started blogging and creating content and doing things under the Balanced brand in 2014. I was 24 years old at the time. Now, I'm 36. The things that were important to me, the perspective that I had and the stories I wanted to tell were entirely different. I think I had to give myself permission to let myself grow publicly in ways that I'd already done personally. The show isn't really about wellness anymore. And that shift started happening a couple of years ago.
When we started expanding into more lifestyle topics, more self-help topics [and] talking about entrepreneurship, the audience responded really well. That was when the show really started to grow and take off. And that was what got so much more engagement than the episodes back in 2020 when I was doing hour-long deep dives on gut health.
Rebranding the show was something I've been thinking about for a long time. When I was finally like, 'Oh, I need to do this,' honestly, was the 2024 presidential election. I was like, these people are about to be in here acting crazy. I do not feel safe with my business name being what it is. I don't want to be targeted for any BS. We saw what they did to the Fearless Fund.
"You have to balance your integrity with your income."
Courtesy
On Integrity Over Income
Kayla: I have many other interests aside from beauty. I'm growing and I'm changing as a person. I'm not the same person I was when I started at InStyle in 2019 before the pandemic rocked everybody's world. I don't think reviewing every single lipstick that comes out is exciting or interesting, because everybody does it now, and everybody feels like they're qualified to speak on things that they're not qualified to speak on. I'm currently in that pain point of growth.
I don't think I have always been in environments where I've been encouraged to branch out on my own ideas. I finished Ina Garten’s memoir maybe a month ago. She kept repeating this quote in her book. She said, ‘What goes in early, goes in deep.’ Now that I'm on my own and I don't have the resources of a traditional media company, which is what I have become accustomed to, sometimes it's difficult for me to be like, 'Okay, just go ahead with the thing.'
I think, Les, just the other day, you reposted somebody saying that they let go of a five-figure deal and then got double the next day because it just didn't feel aligned for them. Those are the things that happen. I have to find a balance of, 'Okay, how do I keep myself afloat?' And that may mean I may not be balling out of control just yet, but I'm okay for now. I can buy myself nice things every once in a while, but you have to balance your integrity with your income.
Les: There are just certain lines that I'm not willing to cross. Especially when I created more wellness content, one of those lines was I will not promote any sort of weight loss product. All of these GLP-1s all want to advertise on my podcast. I actually have nothing against those types of products, but I don't ever want someone to look at what I'm putting into the world and think that I'm saying that they need to feel a certain way about their bodies.
Even if the money is great, that's not for me to say, and that's not the type of message that I want to put out here. Or, I had another kind of brand deal come through that would have required me to divulge things about my personal life that I just don't really want my audience knowing about me, and bringing them along on journeys that I just find personal and I want to keep offline. I don’t want to be known for dragging my mess all over the internet for a buck.
I don't want to be known for being an influencer. I would love to be 1,000% in on my podcast, scale it, have it grow to be a media empire where I'm producing and putting out other bodies of work. For now, until that other side of the business really picks up and gets to the point where I want it to be, I kind of need to play the influencer game a little bit to live in this expensive city. But I'm gonna do it on my terms. It's a constant compromise that I'm coming to with myself.
"You can never make a big vision come to fruition if you're sitting and you're waiting for somebody else to tell you exactly what to do."
Courtesy
On Mutual Admiration and Friendship
Les: Something that I really admire about you in having known you for the past couple of years is you don't wait for a roadmap. You jump in, you roll up your sleeves, and you do it. You can never make a big vision come to fruition if you're sitting and you're waiting for somebody else to tell you exactly what to do.
Kayla: Well, first of all, I want to say thank you for saying that, because that means so much to me, and it's very affirming. That's exactly how I feel about you. I remember, even at your first live show, you're like, ‘Oh my god, I'm so stressed. I don't know what I'm doing.’ And, the shit sold out. And, you know, and now, like, you see the growth of the podcast. And you have nearly 61,000 subscribers on YouTube. I just checked recently.
I talk a lot about people that really just need to not say anything on the internet, because it's so frustrating as somebody who grew up as a traditional journalist. You want people to fact check and ask thoughtful questions and have good conversations. I've never said that about you. I've always loved your podcast. And I've sent a lot of your episodes to friends when they're going through specific things that you're talking about.
This season has been a little bit slower to me, so you've been a constant source of inspiration, and it's just been such a pleasure to see your podcast grow despite the challenges you've had. I know it's not easy, but you continue to grow and continue to push through, and I really admire that as somebody who sat and cried yesterday and listened to white noise.
And this is why I tell you all the time, you really do inspire me. I love you a lot.
Les: Oh my gosh, I love you a lot. I'm so glad that the podcast brought us together.
Tap into the full It Girl 100 Class of 2025 and meet all the women changing game this year and beyond. See the full list here.
Featured image courtesy