All of them.
I spent many years in rooms that were never meant for me. Foster care. Group homes. Five high schools. I learned where the door was, who held the key, and how to pick the lock when I had to.
Now I spend many more stepping into rooms I was never expected to reach. And speaking on stages they'll swear were handed to me.
I'm building the platforms I needed but couldn't find. And raising my critically-appraised son to know the world the way I know it: fully, on purpose, without apology.
All while living with a diagnosis I refuse to let lead.
I've never entered a room halfway. And there's no point in starting now.
This is me.
If you want the polished version, she lives next door at NeolaHusbands.com.
We sometimes have our nails chipped over here.
There's only one Neola Husbands.
My mother made sure of it. She ordained it.
I instill it. I enforce it.
