Please Don’t Sit on My Bed In Your Outside Clothes By Phoebe Robinson
Star Rating: 5 Stars
And welcome to the book that brought me out of my review hibernation. Where do I even begin? In short, what a triumph of a read. I flew through this one in a matter of two days. This collection of thought provoking, sharp, wickedly witty, reflectively poignant, and highly relatable essays made it impossible for me to put this book down.
One of the aspects of the book I loved the most were the times I couldn’t differentiate between Phoebe’s story and my own. Now, we as Black Women are NOT one dimensional nor a monolith. I think our strongest, most unifying moments happen when we share our stories, experiences, and observations with one another without bias or judgement while also legitimatizing what is often dismissed or belittled. As I read, I felt empowered, celebrated, and seen for being the multifaceted Black Woman that I am and further reminded why reading stories revolved around our realities is important.
This goes without saying, BUT hilarity did so surely ensue. There were copious amounts of ‘IYKYK’ junctures. I honestly feel bad for the folks that won’t initially get ‘A Glory Tear’ and ‘Laurieann’s Boom Kacks’ references within the context they’re used. In spirit with the insightful Phoebe-isms list, I’d like to start complying my own lists of Mary-isms. First one being: it’s more then okay to drink Ginger Ale even when you’re not sick.
Overall, I felt as if I were having a delightful one way conversation with a close friend. The only items allowed on my bed are pillows, sheets, blankets, and a copy of this book. This imprint increased my P.R. fandom well passed her coveted Thirsty Thursday montages. Though, I’ll forever be tuning into those and never grow tired of them.
I can’t say it enough. Read. this. book.
