I have loved everything about Michelle Obama since the first time I saw her grace my television screen. She embodied everything I knew a strong Black woman should. From her curvy figure to her intelligence, I was proud. This was a woman that looked like me. It is no longer a question whether a black woman can be a familiar face in the White House. A face that was not in an apron but actually a crucial part of running the show. She was captivating. I was in awe of her flawlessness. Not only was she smart, she was a fine mother and a loving wife.
A mayor, in what I assume to be a country ass, hillbilly ass, white ass town, called my First Lady “a ape in heels.” I cannot take that comment lightly, because you do not get to call Michelle Obama anything outside of her name, other than The First Lady. If a ape in heels can have two Ivy League degrees, be an educator and an advocate, and travel the world empowering women to lead, bitch sign me up. I will gladly be just that. Michelle Obama is beautiful and brilliant and will continue to be apologetically Black and unbothered.