Women, black women in particular have some issues. [We] have contentions, altercations, and plenty of controversy in our lives. Question is how much of it do we bring on ourselves? In Corporate America, we African-American women have the toughest time proving ourselves and having the majority acknowledge and recognize, not only our potential, but our success as well. With this being said, you would assume, incorrectly, that we would have some sort of “sisterly bond” or that we could appreciate the advancement and higher achievement of the women that are just like us, yet we continue to tear each other apart and down. Why? Because whether we realize it or not, there’s no camaraderie or encouragement, rather an expectation to fail. When we see each other on campus, in public, on the streets of Atlanta, there is a snicker, there’s an exaggerated look from head to toe, or an unnecessary eye roll. We can’t complement each other at all and there is always something that we find wrong with the young woman. When do we get over the white woman with a black man? When do we smile in passing by? In Layman’s terms when do we stop HATIN’? Believe it or not, that’s what we’re doing and if you repeatedly say “I aint hatin'” or “aint nothin’ to hate on” I’m just going to say you’re lying. Hating doesn’t entail jealousy or envy, it could just be a dislike for the person, but if you have no legitimate reason for not liking an individual beyond the fact that you are of the same sex, then you’re hating. I’ve hated and I’ve been hated on, and now I realize it’s a vicious cycle that gets old. It stops when we get a sense of community about ourselves, we want a socialist society, yet we’re talking about the sister next to us. We want a “good black man” yet we’re furious when a female of another race is doing what she has to do to get and keep a black man. We want everyone to like us while we repeatedly throw dirt on our fellow man. We want corporate America to admire us and see the positive, yet we’re sneaking around like cats talking about each other in our cubicles. How can we expect every other race and the male sex to even begin to see us with optimism when we can’t even see it in ourselves? What’s wrong with a black woman with a relaxer, what’s wrong with the woman without one? What’s the problem with a skinny girl, and what’s the problem with a bigger one? Why is there an issue between light and dark skinned [black] women? The answers we come up with are not justifiable and ultimately irrelevant. Our goal is mutual, we want peace, love, and some happiness (which may come in the form of a pay stub). Regardless of our desires, why can’t we help each other achieve the ultimate goal? Who’s to say you’re not more of a helpful hand than a hindrance? We define ourselves by these stereotypes and we keep ourselves in a glass box where we can see the outside yet refuse to break through and grab the fresh air. I understand that everyone cannot be your friend, but why does everyone have to be an enemy? Not even everyone, why can’t the black woman who you share similar values and ideals with, be someone you can count on opposed to someone you readily have a shield against and fundamentally despise? As humans, we’re promised trials and tribulations, can we make an attempt to reduce them to as small a number as possible? The answer: yes we can, we have to be open to change and a sense of community, and for [black] women, essentially we have to be open to sisterly love.