#black majorette

[theafroamericaine]

A majorette doing her thang 🖤

Source

[inthedarktrees]

Band Convention, Virginia | Allan Grant, Life, May 1953

[nyxsting]

The Fabulous Dancing Dolls of Southern University. Baton Rouge, LA.

“Dolls” series, #3.

Created in Blender

-Nyx Sting

Congratulations to the 2023-2024 Fabulous Dancing Dolls!

[helloparkerrose]

[taffetastrology]

The signs as Prairie View A&M Black Foxes looks

Aries

Taurus

Gemini

Cancer

Leo

Virgo

Libra

Scorpio

Sagittarius

Capricorn

Aquarius

Pisces

[tani-b-art]

Florence Hill in A Bundle of Blues

Prancing J-Settes at Jackson State University

[brooklynrwhitegrier]

Co-authored a complete history of Black majorettes and dance lines.

[ricefame]

Our programs help elevate Historically Black Colleges and Universities and their cultures. We aim to help them level up with their peers in providing quality education and enjoyable activities to their stakeholders. We need your help to succeed in this daunting task. Please donate. We are a veteran-owned, minority-owned, tax-exempt nonprofit organization. Your donations are tax-deductible. Please retain your confirmation email for tax purposes. Thank you.

Lacy L Rice Jr, Executive Director

[fumcreations]

Big Energy #bigenergy #maximumenergydanceacademy #favoruponmecreations #gree. #black # white #majorette #majorettes #majorettemadness (at Las Vegas, Nevada) https://www.instagram.com/p/CphQC8MOxun/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[katsukissy]

guys i’m gonna be a majorette dancer swear. like fr i’m so deadass.

[theafroamericaine]

A Brief History on Majorette Dancing in Black Culture

The term "majorette" comes from the Dutch word "Dansmarietjes" meaning "Dance Marys" referring to young women that are performing a carnival dance; it originated in Germany's Rhineland.

Eventually the dance made it's way down to the American South. Majorette dancing picked up in the 1960s in African American culture. At the Orange Blossom Classic in Miami, FL of 1968, The Golden Girls (GGs) of Alcorn State University (HBCU in Mississippi) gave the first known majorette performance. The ensemble consisted of eight girls and left a lasting impression.

Majorette dance teams, along with their bands played a significant role in HBCU culture after that. They are known for their acrobatic, jazz, ballet, hip-hop, burlesque, bucking, cabaret styles of dance. The groups appearance are always on point, dazzling outfits, laid hairstyles, entertainment props.... Synchronization, team spirit and confidence are the key points to performing.

Fast forward to today, this art form has picked up in mainstream media significantly; thanks to Lifetime's TV show Bring It!, Beychella and TikTok trends. Hard work and dedication goes into these performances, it's not just about entertainment for the audiences, but culture, sisterhood, community and legacy.

Source

[inthedarktrees]

Henry Wessel, Pasadena, California, 1974

[nyxsting]

The Fabulous Dancing Dolls of Southern University. Baton Rouge, LA.

“Dolls” series, #2.

Created in Blender

-Nyx Sting

[doiliedaze]

Thin Ice: part one

Hockey! Vi x reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: okay!! so this is my attempt in starting a series about hockey Vi based on this dream I had months and the Sailor Song by Gigi Perez and Moments by MOIO okay so wish me luck!! also none of my fics are truly edited I just re-read them till I can’t and pray my grammar is good. Reader is kinda naive/one track minded and very insecure in this. I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY SO BARE WITH ME!!

2

───────┈ · ·

I’ve been skating since I was a little girl. It was the only place I could call home. Skating was the only place I was finally the smartest and brightest in the room since I was perceived otherwise academically…and I do lack a bit in the common sense area.

They say there’s a zone we enter when we’re aligning our energy with the activity we love. My alignment is when I soar through the air, or just don’t fall flat on my ass. I was heading to the rink when I was stopped.

“What are you doing here cupcake?”

When my eyes focus on her I was taken aback as I try to quickly study her. Why was my roommate here? “You know I practice here.” I state as I lace up.

She chuckled as she looks me up in down. I’m in a black bodysuit covered by a pink skirt and leg warmers over my matching pink skates, my coily hair put into a bun by a bow. “The practice is reserved for the hockey team. Did you not see the schedule posted outside?” She says with a small smile, I tilt my head “they changed the schedule?” Her smile flatters a bit and twitches as she points to the wall. I make an “o” shape with my mouth putting the pieces together. She pats my shoulders and skates away. In reparations of me fucking up I stay and watch.

Our college; Piltover university offers an array of extracurricular activities and in my three years of being here I’ve never known of this damn schedule changing!

Number 6, is an interesting player and my roommate. She brings an obvious aggression that the sport needs but she’s so swift and fast. I don’t know much about hockey but I do know she just scored so I might as well cheer for her right? Wrong! Getting stared at with the small but big enough snickers for me was enough to make me wanna to shrink and crawl into a hole and dissolve into a sunflower seed and sprout- well you get the point. This pushes me to attempt a swift exit.

When making my hurried exit she skates to the edge and whistles at me to get my attention. “Don’t leave, I appreciate having a personal cheerleader.” Her plump lips growing into a wolf-ish grin as she stares me down, always wanting a reaction. “Well I’m not a cheerleader I’m an ice skater! No disrespect to cheerleaders though I mean that takes a lot of courage, I know I could never-”

“It wasn’t a diss cupcake.” She stated before winking and skating away.

My face has never felt this hot before! Today is the day of utter shame and cruel unusual punishment. Now I have to figure out a new place to skate because I refuse to make the same mistake again…or read the time sheet next time who knows!

I make a routine out of avoiding the rink around 5-8 so I go during the wee hours of the morning. Kinda killing my sleeping schedule but hey pride am I right?

I don’t skate to be on a team, I prefer to be by myself and skate for me. It gets lonely sure but no one has ever supported me in doing this. All the slick comments of “oh why not be a majorette? On a step team? Why’d you stop stepping? You wanna be any race but black! Blah blah blah!” Don’t get me wrong those are beautiful activities in my culture but black girls can be everything and more at once. When I stepped it was fun and I could feel the unity but the feeling skating gave me made me feel like the most beautiful and the closest to my blackness. So when it came down to picking what I really wanted I chose skating, and been on my own since, because girls like me don’t belong here. Proving people wrong has been my biggest motivation, maybe I’m being a hard-ass but I don’t care; it feels good when I do it in the end.

This routine I was practicing was more than difficult…axels hate me and I hate axels but I’m trying to land a quadruple axel.

My mind relaxes as my chest thumps, today feels like the day…something I tell myself a lot. My momentum pushed as “Pearls” by Sade plays. I push off my left leg to project myself into the air. One…two…three…four-ish? My spin wasn’t complete and my landing was shaky, but I can try again. So I tried again and again! Frustrated I push myself, my skates cutting deep as I try to gain speed. Leaping into the air I spin one…two…three…four times! However I land flat on my ass. “Fuck!” I yell and I cover my face and I can’t control the wobble in my lip when I hear claps.

“And here I thought you were sneaking out to do something cool.” Vi states as she carefully glides over.

“I don’t need that right now.” I mutter, “company?” She lays on the ice with me.

Vi and I’s relationship is complicated. When we met in freshman year we hooked up then we ghosted each other. Sophomore year we both joined the literature club and gained a true friendship with a side of fucking whenever we’re both single. Now junior year I just feel distant with her.

She rubbed my cheek, “you don’t talk to me anymore.” I move from her touch…wishing I didn’t, I know reaching out is hard for her. “I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry do better” she stood up shoving her hands in her pockets. “C’mon we’re going out.” I know not to argue so I oblige.

“The library?” I scoff in a whisper, “we are English majors.” She nudges me with her shoulder and I nudge her back.

We find a cozy nook and read our respective books. The two of us haven’t hung out in so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I take her book. “Hey!” She reaches over me. Her pale blue eyes stare into my dark brown eyes. A soft blush spreads over her freckled cheeks and her eyebrows soften. “I miss you” we both whisper then laugh. Vi moves from me and takes my hand.

I’ve never been the type of person to be comfortable around others, wanting to be apart of a team but with Vi…I want to try everything.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im so excited to start this series!! I wanted to challenge myself and I hope you guys enjoy <3

(Dividers by @dollywons)

[venusincleo]

𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎.

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟸. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚒𝚍𝚎.

• • •

Warnings: MDNI • Terry Richmond x Black!OC Eden Laurent, angsty, a lil sad... that's all... 🥲

Summary: After the events in Shelby Springs, Terry moves out of town, and goes to Covington, LA. Messed up about what happened to his cousin, he tries to keep his head low and stack some money. Only halfway effective, with just money to show for his efforts, he slowly spirals with grief before he has a not-so-cute meeting with a young woman on her own healing journey.

Word Count: 1.3k💚

A/N: I'm tapping into my younger self with these shorter parts... {taking it back to my 2014 Wattpad days lmaooo} I hope you enjoy this fic as the story progresses. 🫶🏾

• • •

The silence was deafening. Yet, there were so many elements in her peripheral, the young woman found herself glancing around the room every few seconds. The quiet tick of the analog clock right above the door, the short stints of heavier breath whenever one of her only students laughed at a TikTok on their phones. The calming woosh of the timed heater turning back on to fill the room with warmth. The ever-so-light taps of her nude brown pointe shoes against the carpeted dance studio. Eden had tried today.

She woke up and prayed to the Most High to give her courage, and to allow her to get out of her own way. She wore an ensemble fit to teach her favorite contemporary moves; adorned in her ballet cardigan and stirrup leggings. Her hair was beautifully curly and large, giving her an extra boost of confidence, and she felt good.

That was, until she walked the halls, perused the popular spots around the school to play hookie, snuck into the gym to promote her class, and still got nothing. Smiles that read ‘yeah, okay, bye.’ were her only replies, and now, she was sitting in her assigned room frowning at her phone like the two girls who always sat with her. They only ever said ‘hi’ and ‘bye’, and every once and a while asked to learn a TikTok dance. But that was it. 2 out of 415.

She allowed a sigh to leave her lips, and glanced from her phone up at the analog clock, and then back at her Instagram feed. Scrolling and scrolling.

After seeing one too many celebration posts from people she went to college with, who seemed to be doing way better than her, she exited the app in a hurry. Quick taps of her manicured digits helped her rake her brain for something that she could do, and soon, a lightbulb went off.

Navigating to her camera roll, she scrolled through her many videos of rough choreography and found her favorite one, then set her phone in her lap. As she rummaged through her Telfar, she grasped at her AirPod case, and then she was putting her left headphone in to watch the video. Tinashe’s Bouncin’, Pt.2 came through her AirPod and she watched her body flow around the slowed down melody and watery synths.

Her body moved slightly as her muscles remembered the majorette inspired routine, the words playing in her mind as she immersed herself in the recording. Hands up, back arched, hip popped, toes pointed.

She watched every movement, down to her facial expressions and just as the routine picked up –gained a soulful momentum– it fell back down. What was that? She rewinds the video and right at the part where Tinashe says ‘just like this…’ the energy is flat. Gone.

Pursing her lips in thought, she plays the choreo demo from the beginning but this time she closes her eyes to feel the song. ‘Watch it bouncin’ on the ground…’

She does the 8-count twice over in her mind, and then when she gets to the verse, she starts to think of something. Her fingers twitch as she imagines her hands outstretched, meeting in the middle of her chest, ‘can’t get any closer now…’.

Her eyes pop open, and she starts it over yet again, trying to think of another move or another, or another.

Briiiiiinnnng. The school bell rings, and the two girls are halfway out the door, leaving her to contemplate. Why can’t I get this…what is it missing?

The intercom clicks on with the after-school announcements, and she makes sure to grab her bag, checking around where she sat as not to leave anything. Once she cuts the light off and steps out of the desolate studio, she can hear the faint ding of a notification from her phone. With a slight tap to her home screen, she reveals the message to see an unsaved number.

‘Hey this is Terry from the store.’

Eden’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and she readies her thumbs at the keyboard to respond. Only, nothing comes to her just that quick. I didn’t expect for him to reach out. She reasoned. By the third day that she hadn’t gotten a text, she just assumed he wasn’t interested in her advice. And she was fine with that.

With swift glides along the digital keyboard, she queues up a reply, and then follows it up rather quickly.

Hi Terry 👋🏾

How’s your day been?

Eh not the best… how about you?

It was fine…wanna talk about it?

You free for me to call?

Eden looks up at the foot traffic heading out of the school, and she sighs.

I will be in a few

Terry looked at his screen for a moment longer, his shoulders rising and falling slowly as he stood in thought. He really needed a distraction…something…

cool.. call me when you can

After sending the message, he shoved the cool device into his pocket and ventured for the back room yet again. He was really supposed to be taking his lunch break, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest for too long without asking him harsh questions… Why Mike…why not me?

Unfortunately, sitting at the cold steel table in the break room with nothing good to occupy his time was too much to handle. He had to keep his body moving. Anything involving an accelerated heart rate was enough to act as a chaser to this survivor’s guilt that was plaguing him. And he needed something for the burn.

His footsteps were quiet as he basically snuck back to work. Quiet, but not enough to hide his large stature between the wide aisles of the warehouse. And of course, he was caught before he could really get his hands busy doing something.

“Richmond!” His supervisor’s voice was tinny, and he huffed through his nose at the sound. With a sharp pivot of his feet, he directly faced the average height, bald, white man.

“Head to the breakroom, you’re about to hit compliance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry’s footsteps were a bit heavier now, dragging just slightly as he took his sweet old time walking to the breakroom. Once he was under the warm light he dreaded, he made his way to the time clock and punched out for his break with a little over a minute to spare. Reluctantly, he beelined for his locker, and grabbed his Stanley transit bottle then his generic store brand water.

Just as he closed his locker door, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out to see Eden’s name. Instantly, he opened his locker back up and grabbed his work jacket, then locked it to prepare for his next thirty minutes.

Hoping not to miss the call, Terry tapped on the green answer button and put his phone to his ear as he exited the side door of his workplace. Going for his usual seat far from the rest of the benches, he heard a sweet voice call to him.

“Hello?”

“Yeah,” He clears his throat nervously. What am I even doing? “Sorry, I was clocking out for my break. I hope your day was better than mine.”

��Tell me about it… What’s been going on?” Terry hesitates. One second. Three…Six…Ten…

“U-Uh… I think it’s best I tell you more about myself before I start pouring my heart out…” He trails off, half-way expecting her to say she couldn’t care less. That she didn’t give a damn that his cousin died. That she had no sympathy for whether or not he could sleep without something on loud enough to drown out the noise. The pain. The memories.

“I’ve got time. Where did you wanna start?”

• • •

♥︎ I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

༓TAGLIST༓

@onherereading

*let me know if you want to be added to the ongoing taglist in the comments*

[keyaho]

.summary: Their university had some of the best conjurers in the world. A group of powerful beings forced to fight for equal rights they were entitled to as citizens of the country. In the midst of that, Malcolm X (Aaron Pierre) leads a secret organization hellbent on taking what is theirs. The waiting game and peace was over. The only thing that could stand in his way was Sasha Laveau -a powerful conjurer and the current Madam Protector- and his growing affection for the sweet and caring woman beneath the power.

.some character information: Malcolm in this is a little more rough around the edges. He does some questionable things through out the story.

Prologue:

Laveau University was the top school of magic for African Americans in the country. Hidden in the Louisiana bayou, the college boasted some of the best magical users. Yet, that wasn’t why the school saw such high enrollment rates over the past three years. That had to do with Professor X, a radical leader in the movement for magical rights for black people. He was tall, smooth talking, and handsome though that’s what Sasha heard. The counselor had heard the whispers of his classes, seen the way girls young and old linger around after hours to gossip about how much of a gentleman he was.

She had seen him a couple of times on campus, greeting students warmly as he walked in his long coats and hats. His glasses were black and clear, the frames exposed around the edges. He had smooth skin, full lips, and he was dangerously tall.

Sasha sat up in her chair, thankful her office door was closed because she was sure if anyone walked by they would see her fanning herself at the thought of a professor like she was one of the students. It wasn’t like her group chat with the majorette coach, english department head, and girls magical parkour team hadn’t spoken about the smooth talking conjurer.

As she was closing another student’s file, three soft knocks landed on her door.

“Come in,’ she called, her eyes scanning the new email she just got.

CAMPUS WILL BE CLOSED FOR WARDING. STUDENTS MUST TRANSPORT HOME BY THE END OF CLASS TOMORROW AND NO LATER THAN 4:30 PM.

Why hadn’t she been given a heads up? Before she could reply to the email in a separate chain, the object of so many desires stepped into her office. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the black sigils in his arms exposed. He wore suspenders today, the crisp white shirt beneath went well with his gray slacks and brown shoes.

“Good evening, Counselor Laveau.” He said.

Yes, she was a descendant of the founding Laveau family. She had chosen to become a counselor instead of a professor. She could connect with the students in more of a trainer role. She loved using her magic. She was one of the most powerful conjurers on campus.

Malcolm's voice was as rich as she had heard it to be. He looked like everyone else, slightly tired but there might have been a herb or two floating around his tea for alertness. Sasha’s own alwaysful enchanted cup stayed warm and ready when she wanted it. She wondered what his blend was.

“Yes Professor X?” She replied, finding her voice after looking away from his eyes. “If this is about the warding email, I’m just now getting it. I would have pre warned if I was awa-‘

“No no no,’ he says, taking a step forward, further into her office, into her space. “Did you finish the email?”

He had looked around her messy desk, student files, her grimoire, a quill, and the remnants of what looked to be an attempt at a spell. He watched as she looked back at her screen in confusion, then surprise, then slight disappointment. The latter had been the opposite for him.

“I also didn’t know they had us doing the warding,’ she abruptly stood up.

Some tension is released in her shoulders. She had more time to finish up her work as warnings took priority for the pair that had to do them. That meant his classes for not only tomorrow, but the rest of the week were canceled as there was a heavy sickness that came with warding no magic could relieve.

“I really told them about not telling me beforehand.” She sighed.

“I can do the preparations.” He offered, sensing her haste to gather her things.

“I can not ask you to do that alone. We both know the ramifications of that.” She shrugged and ran a hand through her fresh silk press.

She was going to sweat this bitch out and she just got it. Ramona was going to kill her next week.

“It must be urgent,’ she turns her back to him, reaching towards her shelf for a small book on the top shelf.

Whispering a few words, she turns her hand palm up and beckons the book off the shelf. Slowly, it appeared floating to her open palm with ease.

Malcolm had heard how the Leveau women used their magic freely. It allowed them a safe way to decompress after using heavier magic. It smelled floral and spicy, a delightful mix of flowers and her bayou blood.

“I can meet you in the common room in about an hour. I have to gather some things and change.”

Grabbing her purse she poured out the contents of her steaming mug and placed it upside down so it wouldn’t refill in her absence. Second nature, she used a series of small hand movements and the room began tidying itself, the computer shut off and while she slung her arms into her jacket, the blinds and lights closed and turned off. The only light was now the golden orb that followed all the Laveau women. Their familiars and their anchor between the real and spiritual worlds.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to take some of the load,’ he pressed.

He wouldn’t admit it was his first major warding. And for it to be with a Laveau of all people he was concerned about meeting their standards so directly. He was a skilled conjurer, mostly defensive, but she was an embodiment of what their magic came from. Power seeped through her pores and yet, she was flustered, unprepared, and dare he say relatable. He was excited to spend this week getting to know her, as peers, of course.

“Bring lots of food and plenty of clothes. The isolation afterwards is the worst part.”

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchum @dundienominated @zillasvilla