I did it.

I’ve been sitting in silence for the past 7 days.

Cuddling with Happy.🐶

Just going back through the course of events that brought me to this moment…

I’ve been trying to “grow my hair back” since Momma maliciously cut it off when I was twelve. I’ve tried TONS of hair styles and extensions to combat her ugly words about me being ugly, dumb, stupid, and a piece of crap.

I’ve tried:

—sulfur 8
—blue magic
—super hair grow grease
—Jamaican Black Caster Oil
—Carol’s Daughter
—Uncle Funky
—Aunt Jessie
—Cream of Nature
—The Mane Choice
—hair growth oil
—hair growth pills

The list goes on and on.

I never really saw myself as pretty.

That’s not completely accurate. I did feel pretty for a day or two until the new style stopped looking like I had just stepped out of a salon.

Or on occasion, when my hair hit my face in a certain way, I felt beautiful.

But that feeling was almost always tied to me having long braids, or faux locs, permed short hair, or whichever lover (male or female) I was buying love from with my body.

I never questioned why I was so invested into growing my hair long.

It grew when I wore protective styles, but the moment I started to do my own hair, it would break or shed.

Especially when I was under heavy stress.

When I was about to defend my dissertation at Stanford, my hair broke off in the back. I was happy I passed AND I had to get my hair braided to cover up the bald patch.

My need to feel pretty and be loved through my hair were my attempts at silencing Momma’s voice in my head berating me at every turn.

Each box braid, silk press, or corn row has had me continue to be that scared and defenseless little Black girl, who thought that if she had long hair, she would be beautiful.

And Momma would be wrong about her.

A few weeks before a keynote address, my hair started thinning. My stylist, who happens to be a certified Trichologist, did everything she could to stop the shedding. Eventually she diagnosed me with early-stage alopecia.

That diagnosis felt like being thrown in an ice cold placid sea.

Due to time, she made me a wig for the keynote and cut my hair into a short pixie cut to disguise my hair loss and hair thinning.

I could rock my keynote with one of these two options.

But in the light, I could see through my hair.

If the natural light couldn’t hide my hair loss, what would happen when I’m on stage with the harsh video and camera lights?

So I got my heart right to wear the wig.

It felt like a hot helmet.

And I felt like a fake.
I felt completely disempowered.
And I felt ugly.

The day Happy and I were to fly to the keynote, I prepared my freshly pressed natural hair to get into the shower.
I wrapped my hair with a scarf and put on my shower cap.

My shower cap and my sleeping bonnet are both floral.

I mistakenly put on my sleeping bonnet instead of my shower cap and stepped into the steamy tub. I quickly pulled the shower cover back in place to keep the warm mist in the tub.

As I lathered, I started to feel my hair getting damp. I didn’t think anything of it as I bathe.

It was only AFTER I stepped out of the shower that I realize my mistake.

I gingerly took my damp bonnet off my head and slowly unwrapped my hair scarf off my head.

I looked in the mirror and saw Momma.

I saw her cruelly cut my hair in fist full of righteous rage, viciously pulling my hair with such force, my scalp bled.

Then I saw my little girl self get up of the bed grab a hair scarf and covering her hair with shaky hands.

I saw little girl me and adult me look each other in the eyes.

Then I heard little girl me say with her eyes words that I heard deep in my heart:

“I love you Venus.”

And I cried.

I touched the mirror with my fingertips.

My little girl self came out of the mirror and sat in my lap.

She hugged me as I cried in her tiny arms.
She kissed my hair.
Everywhere her lips touched left beautiful tiny dandelions.

When she finished, she smiled at me and put her two tiny hands on my face.

My little girl self smiled in my eyes, took a deep breath and blew ALL the dandelions away.

She laughed.

That’s when I heard it.

The Voice.


“Let it go Beloved. It’s over now. You don’t need to keep trying to fix something you did not break.”

I opened my eyes to Happy licking my face.

I don’t know how I got from the bathroom to the bedroom.

But I knew it was time to set myself free.

So on the way to the airport, Nanna drove me and Happy to a barbershop and I did it.

I got a buzz cut.

For the first time since I was 12, I felt beautiful.

And free.

Thanks for bearing witness.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

Wig, Weave or Locs?

Hey Family,

My hair is on the mend!

Thank you to each and everyone of you so very much for your loving words, encouragement, and support.

My words are too small to express my deep and profound appreciation and gratitude for each and every post, call, message, emoji, and gifs.

It’s easier to get back up when you are buoyed up by unconditional love.

I thank you.

I have a draft of my keynote address and the outline for my mess to millions workshop for the California Women’s Festival.

My stylist/colorist/trichologist is working her magic. Due to her organic and all natural treatments, shedding has stopped!, tingling scalp is gone, and my hair is soft!

My stylist used an alopecia laser-like tool to scrape the troubled areas in my scalp and then shot nutrients into my hair root with a microscopic needle.

Black Girl (Hair) Magic is real.

My keynote and workshop are a week away and my stylist has given me three options to protect my hair while it heals:

1. a custom color & cut wig
2 a quick weave
3. butterfly faux locs.

I’m trusting God with this one.

I don’t want to add insult to hair injury by putting unnecessary stress on my hair. Nor do I want to stress myself out worrying about my hair during this event.

My stylist is campaigning for the customized wig that does not require glue. She suggested I think of it as more of a sew-in instead of as a regular wig you see on the white Styrofoam heads at the hair store. She thinks it is ideal for protecting my hair while allowing for versatility for the various events over the weekend.

I’m leaning toward the locs, but am familiar with a quick weave and would know how to manage it.

So, which one:

Right now, I don’t want to do ANYTHING to upset my hair. We just got it to calm down!

My temples are thin but they are there! Thank God! She measured my head! I have never in my whole life had my head measured! It was actually fun!

I’m starting to feel good about this. Community is present and enveloped in empathy, love, an support.

I don’t have followers, fans, contacts, or friends.

I have a tribe.
A group of “Truth Tellers” who stand for and with me when the Enemy comes for me.

People who walk with me
Pray for me for me.
Jump on planes to get to me.

This hair trauma and trauma trigger to my past has helped me see, realize and accept I am not alone in the world.

I’m wanted.

I think God heals us through relationships and connections.

And I am grateful.

Thanks for walking with me.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

God, please, no…

When I was twelve, my birth mother cut my hair off. She grabbed and twisted my long Jheri curled tresses in her fist to butcher them in bloody clumps.

I sat there.
I didn’t fight.
I said nothing.

She talked while she cut.

She said I was ugly.

She said I would never amount to anything.

She said she should have flushed me down the toilet when she had the chance.

“Now no one will look at you,” she muttered through righteously triumphant teeth, after she had finished.

Fast forward to now.

Weeks before I’m to keynote on the biggest platform I have ever had…

…my face and words on three billboards on major highways in Sacramento…

…10,000 postcards mailed with my image as the focus…

…my hair starts to fall out at the temples.

“God, please, no” I prayed to trauma shocked eyes in the mirror as I tried to stretch the hair on the top of my head over both balding spots.

That’s when I discovered my hair felt very thin at the top. The thinning was in the same area where Momma’s cuts in my hair drew the most blood.

As my fingers remembered how fragile my hair felt after the cutting, I felt my body go numb.

Just like it did when Momma was cutting my hair off.
I left my body.
I felt my spirit die.

It’s called disassociation.
It’s a trauma response when one feels helpless.

My stylist/colorist specializes in hair health and is treating my hair weekly.

I don’t feel pretty right now.
I don’t feel powerful today.
And if I tell the truth, I’m tired of fighting.

Right now, sadness is clouding my eyes, fogging my brain, and choking my breath.

It looks like I will have to wear a protected style for my keynote in a few weeks.

I know it’s “just hair.”
I know.

But when you have been raised to believe you are ugly and God blesses you with a huge platform, to have your hair shed, thin and/or break, it feels like a kick in the face.

It makes all the things Momma said seem true.

(Please, hear me out.
Don’t try to fix it.
Please, hear me.)

They say the enemy knows your weakness. So expect attacks when you are on the cusp of doing something great.

It makes sense that my sense of self would come under attack right now.

I’m about to reach many women who I can empower.

Empowering others when you don’t feel empowered requires total dependence on God.

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust him.”
Job 13:15

So, I’m trusting God to help me get my keynote address finished, my workshop slides completed, and my hope back.

I pray for God to heal my hair and my heart of all the malicious crimes against my body by people, women and men, who said they love me.

I ask God to help me grieve this loss in a healthy way, so I grow instead of give up.

Help me, Lord.

Send your angels to camp around me to protect me as I do your will for my life.

Right now I feel really sad.
Soul sad.
Spirit sad.

Generational sadness.

Momma’s violence on my body is only a mirror of the violence acted out on hers.

Hurt people hurt people.

Helpless people make other people helpless in order to feel powerful.

Oppression, oppresses through the ones who have been oppressed. So I have nothing but love for Momma. Life made her unwell. And yes, I bear the scars of my mother and the wounds from the absence of my father.

But be very clear: the scarring and wounding stops with me.

I will not hurt others because I was hurt.
I will not hurt myself because I was hurt.
I will not use being hurt to give up on me.

I will heal from this.
I will prosper from this.
I will grow from this.

And I will give wisdom from this wound.
The wisdom from this wound will help others.

So, I will grieve, and pray, and get my hair treatments, wear a wig, or get my hair cut—WHATEVER IT TAKES—so I walk through the door God has opened for me called California Women’s Festival, fully restored.

I do not measure my healing by ease.
I measure my healing by staying the course even when EVERYTHING in me wants to die.

God kept me alive for a purpose bigger than I can see.

And even if I have to shave my head BALD, and walk in the authority of the Most High up on that stage in Sacramento, CA with nothing BUT my truth, I will finish this.

I will fulfill my destiny.

One step at a time.

Thanks for witnessing.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

Which One? Help me Decide! (OMG!!!)

I will be on THREE major highways with all roads leading to the California Women’s Festival where I will be the Keynote Speaker and doing my world famous “Mess to MILLIONS! Workshop!

Here’s the link for deets and seats:

Question: Which one should I pick?

1. White background? Why?

2. Blue and brown background? Why?

10k post cards have been sent FEATURING my workshop!

Now I have to pick a billboard graphic?

WHO GETS TO BE ON A BILLBOARD????🤯 #wonthedoit

I can feel Spirit moving me from survival-driven success to spirit-led affluence.

To me that’s the difference between being a self-made millionaire and a God-made one.

That’s exactly what I want for you.

It starts here.

It starts now.

So, tell me: which billboard:

1. white with sky?

2. blue and brown?

Let me know why.


My God is so faithful.🧡🙏🏾🧡

And I am thankful.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

Ps: I will be sharing more info over the next few weeks about this amazing festival!!! Buy in the mean time, Go here for deets & seats!

PPs: Be sure to let me know which billboard graphic to choose: the white background or the blue & brown background and why? THANK YOU!!!

Guess what I did & am doing? (Yay!)


Happy loves it!🧡🐶🧡

It’s growing!
It’s sooooo soft!

I can feel my girlie girl side about to giggle!🤣🤣🤣

I’m getting ready for my keynote in Cali and prep starts NOW!!!

My colorist, Hudaa Hadiyah, creator and owner of Salon 122 by The Nerdy Colorist, darkened my roots for the stage and photos. The ginger base would have blended in too much with my face onstage and under the piercing glare of the lights.

It’s a multicultural event with a diverse lineup of speakers, artists, and vendors.  Stage Lighting on my skin can be challenging for tech people sometimes.  So we decided to minimize the chance of my videos and photos looking like a was a pumpkin by adding diminution to my shot.

I love my hair and am excited for this opportunity! Over 10,000 postcards went out last week and I’m featured!

My face will be on billboards on three different highways.

My workshop is getting as much love as my keynote in terms of marketing as is my eWomen network event spotlight.

I was given a booth but became overwhelmed. I’m not bringing a team with me and didn’t have anyone who would man it, so I declined.

I’m a bit amazed and excited to speak at such a big and impactful event. It’s my first time headlining on someone else’s platform.

I feel like God is answering my prayers about reaching the world. I sure didn’t see this coming AND I’m glad to have been chosen to keynote.

Here is the link for the details:

I’m also doing my “Mess to Millions” Workshop!  This training is pure fire!🔥🔥🔥

I hope you can make it.🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾

My God is SO faithful.


Thank you for witnessing, supporting, and walking with me.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

#1 Millionaire Requirement. Do You Have It?

I love being a Black Woman.

I absolutely relish being a Black Woman Entrepreneur who chooses to pour her genius into (primarily) purpose-driven, spirit-led Black Women entrepreneurs, experts, CEOs, and coaches.

These powerhouses are women who have walked through life’s fire, and no longer smell like smoke.

Each woman is whole and HUNGRY to turn that fire into the fuel that skyrockets them to their divine seven-figure destiny.

Simply put: I love making Black Women Entrepreneurs, millionaires.

In order to be effective at the mandate from my Creator to serve the clients that were ordained for me even before I was born, I have had to get crystal clear on what I need in order to do God’s work through my private clients.

I don’t relate to my business as a business. I relate to my business as my Calling.

I had to clarify within my spirit, EXACTLY what I require of my private clients.


So I can empower their personal power.

Activating, trusting, and embracing your personal power gives you access to THE most important element for monetizing your truth: internal permission to prosper.

Due to the impact and residue of being born in the pejorative and punitive context entitled “Black Woman” for hundreds of years, we, collectively, traffic in a perpetual state of low-key survival.

It’s subtle.
But it’s there.
Policing is internal; what we can’t have or should ask for.

Especially when it comes to money.

Even when a Black Woman is affluent, fit, and accomplished, Impostor Syndrome hovers.

Without the internal permission to prosper, no amount of marketing, sales training, or personal branding will move a private client of mine from a six-figure earner to a seven-figure one.

So I have to have standards, processes, and requirements to discern if a potential private client’s SURVIVAL will allow them to become a sustainable and scalable millionaire.

People underestimate the impact that being sold has on a Black Woman’s ability to accept payment. (But that’s another topic for another time.)

I say all that to say I screen my clients.

  1. I don’t accept payment from potential clients if they do not inspire me.

I can’t do my best work with a person I don’t believe or believe in.

So my vetting process is designed to turn down more potential clients than I actually take on. My entire vetting process is designed to discourage people from working with me.

  1. I can’t get you to your first million or your next millions with ease, if you are not convicted in your bones you are the answer to millions of people’s prayers.

Said another way: you have something to say that will help somebody else.

If a potential client is seduced by the ideal of being a millionaire, they are not equipped to do my work. The money is a natural fallout of fulfilling a real need in the marketplace.

  1. My private client vetting process (which is distinct from my group programs that’s designed for mass consumption) can take anywhere from three months to a year plus.

That’s intentional.

I need to study you.
To see if you are the truth.
I have to learn your survival.

  1. A person’s survival strategy will sabotage seven-figure success right on the precipice of glory.

So in order for me to cherry pick the private clients who are teachable, whole, and can make their mark, their difference and easily and quickly scale to millionaire status, I need to screen my potential clients.

And I do.

  1. The ones who are chosen, have my heart, my genius, and my loyalty for life.

I make strategic introduction for them. You would be surprised by how many mentors, trainers, or coaches don’t.

I share proven resources with them, so they have what they need to soar without going through the hell of finding folk who deliver.

I customize their offer, marketing messaging and strategy, as well as craft their service delivery in alignment with their Spirit-Led purpose AND a real need in the marketplace.

  1. I love them just as they are and just as they are not. As far as I am concerned my clients are God wrapped in flesh; whole, complete, perfect, and divine.

I feel like my clients are the Daughter’s of the Most High.

I have been entrusted with that which is sacred.

And what can be more holy than a Black Woman using her lived anointing to transform the world?

Absolutely nothing.
No. Thing.

To say that my work is as much spiritual as it is profitable is an understatement.

Money is spiritual.

Purpose is spiritual.
A Calling is spiritual
Anointing is spiritual.

When a Black Woman finally has surrendered to and embraced the blessing from the historical trauma inherited— and in many cases, lived—her power is unleashed.

She becomes God in her Universe.

It is THAT surrender and embrace of the blessing that purifies the pain forged in Life’s fire.

Here is an example.

One of my private clients, Donna, is a remarkable woman. In her lifetime she has worked in finance, held public office, and created curriculum to transform work culture within healthcare.

This Sister is BADDDD!

She is brilliant, beautiful, and kind.

Donna’s millionaire future is hers for the taking.

It’s her choice.

She has the goods.

AND she—like me and so many other powerful Black Women—have to CHOOSE to love ourselves with the same unbreakable commitment, fervor, and grace with which we love our kids.
Our parents.
Our partners.

Becoming a Black Woman Millionaire is not a function of efficacy, education, funding, or access. Those factors have weight but are not the determining factor.


The determining factor is this: internal permission.

Internal permission is a product of one’s self-image.
Inner identity.
One’s sense of self.

Your sense of self determines what you will allow yourself to have.

Your sense of self will only see what your survival is comfortable with, good and bad.

Your sense of self whispers in your ear about what you deserve and what you don’t have a right to have.

It is only when you have freed yourself enough from the tethers of what we, as Black Women have inherited and contend with daily are you able to access the God within.

It is in THAT space, that permission is granted.

Donna traffics in that space.
She’s teachable and accountable.
She implements like lives depend on her.

She inspires me.

So I make it my business that she wins. She, and all of my clients are my destiny.
They are the reason I survived.

I thank God I’m a Black Woman.

Loving, supporting, and empowering purpose-driven and spirit-led Black Women Entrepreneurs to the million-dollar mark is not about money.

It’s about freedom.
Not just for some but all.
I will not be the only millionaire who can fund our dreams.

I’m bringing my sisters with me.

Until we can fund our own institutions—I’m talking communal not individual—we live at the effect of the past.

Someone who has proven—throughout generations—that she is in it for the long haul and for future generations…

Someone who is the fastest growing segment in entrepreneurship in North America…

Somebody had to write the check.
Someone who is healed and whole.
Someone who is committed to Us.

That “someone” is a Black Woman Millionaire.

The Dalai Lama is known for having said it will be the Western Woman who saves the world.


I believe it will be the healed and whole Black Woman who transforms it.

Sis, that woman is you.

I love you,

Dr. Venus

Ps: Is it time for you to give yourself the internal permission to become a Black Woman Millionaire?

If your heart is screaming, YES!!!!—then email me directly at

Let’s get the ball rolling!