Sorry to Break the Mold—But I Am Not Your Stereotype
Sorry to break every mold of your definition of what a Black woman should be—but not all of us are uneducated, ghetto, or illiterate. In fact, some of us are moguls in the making. It’s ironic how so many admire Black men, copy our culture, chase our rhythm, and steal our slang—but can’t respect the very women who gave them life.
Allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m a double major, double minor college student studying Tort Law and Business Management, with minors in Culinary Arts and Hospitality Management. My dream? To be a hotelier—not just in theory, but in practice. And that dream is becoming a reality.
I’m currently in negotiations to purchase a 21-bedroom, 19-bathroom estate in Las Vegas, with plans to convert the property into a private luxury resort and short-term vacation rental. That’s right—I’m not just dreaming big. I’m building bigger.
Everything I do falls under the umbrella of C.A.V.E Enterprises, my multi-business empire. I currently own and operate:
A catering service
A bed and breakfast
A residential & commercial cleaning service
A marijuana cultivation farm
An adult entertainment service
A security firm
A travel business
A childcare business
Every one of these ventures will be fully operational or funded upon the closing of my current legal case—valued at $300 million. Yes, you read that right. I’m securing the bag, brick by brick, and I’m doing it my way.
That’s why it’s no surprise that my confidence threatens some. I walked into my previous job with presence—and that alone made me a target. When you’re self-assured, when you exude grace and ambition, people who hide behind titles and insecurities will always feel exposed. And some will go to great lengths to try and tear you down.
Like the supervisor who booked a tour under my name, knowing it would trigger disciplinary action. Or the write-up I received for "low productivity" after being intentionally boxed out from customers. But how can you expect me to thrive in a cage built to contain me?
Still—I thrived. That’s when they got scared.
I later found out that my blog was being leaked, read, and obsessed over. Either by managers or those sent to track me—yes, stalkers. And when I realized I was earning less in 37 hours than I made in a single 10-hour cleaning session ($500 vs. $450), I knew it was time to exit stage left.
By the time they forced my hand, I had already accepted a better offer. The very next day, I walked into a job fair and left with eight more opportunities—all paying $18/hour or better.
You see, I’m not a groupie. I’m a woman with vision. I don’t need a man like Scottie to validate me. I’ve got four degrees pending, an empire under construction, and legal wins in motion. What I don’t have is time for insecurity-driven drama.
Phil Ruffin? I know your camp sees me. I know some of these tactics are distractions, designed to steer the spotlight away from the exposure I brought your way. But here’s the twist—every attempt to tear me down only boosted my visibility. My presence at Treasure Island rattled some cages. But I wasn’t there to be gawked at. I was there in purpose, in poise, and in power.
I don’t need to alter my body to fit in. My lips are real. My soul is grounded. I cook, clean, raise my children, and earn my own. That’s likely why I’m respected, loved, and watched—closely.
And to anyone worried about me taking their man? Relax. I probably don’t want him. But while you’re focused on me, you’ve opened the door for someone else who might. Don’t lose yourself in insecurity and then blame others for your reflection.
No, I’m not trapped in an empty life. My life—at every phase—is rich, real, and mine. From my business boardroom to my future resort in Vegas, I move with purpose.
And yes… I see you watching. Glad you noticed.
