By Amanda Marie Heileman


I miss my black friends and family. I have a hard time making friends because I’m a grandma that likes to be in bed by 10 p.m., and I have three jobs so I don’t have much free time. The friends that I have made since I moved from Houston to San Marcos, Texas are pretty white. Not that there’s anything bad about white people, it’s just that you guys don’t understand my struggle to the depth to which black people do because you haven’t experienced it for yourself.


On a daily basis I get ignorant questions and comments from my peers, and even strangers, about my ethnicity. A few weeks ago I had a really obnoxious customer come through my checkout line, and he interrogated because he refused to believe I was black. (If you’re interested in this story read my next blog post.) Not having someone to talk to that truly understands my struggle has left me feeling a little lonely. Yes, I could talk to my friends back in Houston, but there’s something about talking to a person face to face that you don’t get over a text message.2dq_1400x1400_nownycstudios_2

A few months ago I decided to listen to this podcast called 2 Dope Queens. I read that it was a no-holds-barred account of culture from comedians so I though I’d try it out. I listened to one episode and I was hooked. On the 2 Dope Queens website they say it’s about “2 Dope Queens, Phoebe Robinson and Jessica Williams, along with their favorite comedians, for stories about sex, romance, race, hair journeys, living in New York, and Billy Joel. Plus a whole bunch of other s**t.”

This show opened up a whole community for me. Phoebe Robinson, one of the show’s hosts, wrote a book called “You Can’t Touch My Hair” and a blog that I found refreshing. It was like I found my niche, I suddenly had this community that was like a big, giant, bear hug saying “I feel you girl!.”

So thank you for being my home away from home. It’s not every day I can find another person that has problems with strangers groping their hair.