Danielle Pointdujour

Travel Journalist and Content Creator ・@hotelwhisperer

Growing up in East Flatbush, Brooklyn, I wasn’t supposed to matter. My little microcosm of the world was considered the hood or ghetto, and my hard-working family wasn’t expected to go far. Hell, there wasn’t much expected of me either. As a hood girl I wasn’t supposed to thrive, I was supposed to scratch and scrape to barely get by. I was supposed to be uneducated, unsuccessful and someone’s baby momma. That was it. That was life.

My parents did their best to make sure that wasn’t my reality, but you know kids, if your parents said it, #issalie. But then, on November 29, 1994, a hood girl from a place that seemed a world away released an album and 13-year-old me knew then that dreams were real. Her pain was my pain, her happiness was my happiness and her life was “My Life.” If this hood girl from Yonkers, Mary Jane Blige, could work through her pain to not only survive but thrive, then so could this little girl from East Flatbush. If she could fight, so could I. Mary didn’t know it, but she was me, and we were one. She was the light leading me through the dark–because since Mary did that, I didn’t have to go through that–and I was grateful. Now as hood women, we have gone through the fire and come out stronger. We’ve learned how to ‘Be Happy’ and our life is blessed.

Hood girls matter.

Thank you!

Danielle Pointdujour

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