Desiré Writes

If you’re reading this– you are super awesome for coming back! Thank you.

First things first: today is #EqualPayDay.  This year, April 4 marks the day in which (on average) a woman had to work all the way through (from all of 2016 up until today!) to earn what her male counterparts made in 2016 alone. And the date changes depending on who the woman is. Even though President John F. Kennedy signed the Equal Pay Law in 1963, women still only earn (around) 83 cents for every dollar– and that’s only white women. That number goes down for women of color.  If this upsets you, there are a few things you can do. You can spread awareness about this, you can encourage others to contact congress, and/or you can contact your legislators about this issue. Although we’ve come a long way over the years, there is still progress to be made.

Okay, now that we’ve talked about that,  you may (or may not) have noticed I’m a couple of days behind–if you read my last post you know that Kaelahday was a reeeeeeeally long day (and yesterday was like a National holiday for Cincinnatians–Opening Day–and it seemed like the entire city congregated downtown. This made for a long day and a headache of a parking situation for those of us who were actually working yesterday).  But I won’t make excuses–as my best friend sometimes reminds me, “Excuses are monuments of nothingness…they build bridges to nowhere.”

So, I won’t make excuses. But I will admit that although I woke up at 7:00 am on Sunday morning, I just couldn’t peel myself out of the bed until a little after 1:00 pm. Yikes. I know, I know– but my time was spent intermittently dozing off in conjunction with reading Jesmyn Ward’s The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks about Race.

The collection of poems and essays is a corollary to James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time (which I have to admit, I’m reading for the first time now, too).

Here’s where I also admit that I am a recovering bookaholic. I almost always have a stack of books next to my bed or on my dining room table. So here’s the problem: I have SO many good intentions, but I usually end up renewing the books like seven times before I actually get around to reading them (if I even get a chance to read them on the first go around).  I have a true book problem. When I go into libraries or book stores, it’s (what I think is) like what a kid who loves candy experiences when they walk into a candy store. I see so many good books that I just MUST read. And I have many reasons:  The author is interesting, the story is one I need to know more about, someone recommended I read it, the cover looks pretty…Yes, I said the cover looks pretty. 

Does anyone else share this problem with me???

I’m happy to report that I did actually finish a book recently– Jodi Piccoult’s Small Great Things, which is a story about privilege, power, and race. After I (hopefully!) finish the two books I mentioned above, next up is J.D. Vance’s Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis, which is Vance’s true story about “growing up in the lower middle class Appalachian communities of the mountains of southeastern Ohio and eastern Kentucky.” I’m not certain when I’ll actually begin reading it. Let’s hope I don’t pick up another stack of books before doing so.

What are you reading? What are some “can’t miss” stories you’d recommend? Please comment below.

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You’ve heard of the days of the week, right? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Kaelahday, Sunday.

Wait, what?

Let me tell you about Kaelahday. It started this morning when her mom completely forgot to schedule a hair appointment for her—Nakaelah has the thickest hair and it is SO MUCH EASIER to manage after blow drying and flat ironing it…

(and it turns out so much better if her aunt, who is a hairdresser, does it because I just don’t do it that well. That’s part of the reason why I decided to loc MY hair…my hair is JUST as thick. And this is also one of the reasons I am incensed that there is actually a Supreme Court ruling in Alabama making it okay to discriminate against applicants/employees who have dreadlocks. Next it will be natural hairdos. Or braids. If only everyone understood some of the things women of color go through as it pertains to their hair. Take this current blog post, for example)

…and it makes our weekday mornings easier, notwithstanding all of the OTHER things that pertain to Kaelah that slow us down in the mornings i.e. Kaelah taking her sweet time, refusing to believe that her mother has to get to work and/or make it to a meeting!

But I digress

So Kaelah and I sat in the hair salon from 9:00 am to 11:00 am waiting to see if she could be fit in between others also waiting to get their hair done. By the time 11:15 rolled around, I realized it probably wasn’t going to happen.

Plus since Kaelah had a casting call at 1:00 pm (in addition to playing the violin, she’s a drama major in school), we wouldn’t have enough time for her hair to be finished by then anyway. So I ask if there’s an opening later in the day and I’m told to call back at 5:00 pm. Okay, cool.

Kaelah and I go to her casting call and I’m asked to read with Kaelah. I tell them I’m not there for me—this is for her, but I end up reading with her anyway. It was fun. We’ll see what happens.

We then head to the mall to locate a kiosk that fixes cracked phone screens—Kaelah accidentally dropped and cracked her screen a few weeks ago. I originally told her she’d just have to use her phone as-is indefinitely, since she keeps taking her life-proof protective case off, but since her phone was a gift from her grandparents—and when the contract is up, it must be returned unscathed—I lose that battle.

Once the phone is repaired, we leave the mall to meet up with her best friend so they can hang out. By this time, I’ve called the salon to check on getting Kaelah in. We’re told to come by. We get there and her aunt/hairdresser is at the beginning of working on another client’s hair. We didn’t realize that client was having her hair braided.

If you don’t know, hair braiding can last for what seems like F. O. R. E. V. E. R.

And since we’d already been waiting for about an hour by the time we realized what was up, I felt like we were committed. All told, we’re already 3.5 hours in.

I’m actually typing this as I sit in the salon. It is currently 11:03 pm. Shout out to Kaelah’s aunt, Whitney, who has been GRINDING and working hard at the salon since 8:00 am this morning.

Good news is Kaelah is finally in the chair.

Mom is ready to get in the bed. But if you read my previous post, you’ll know I probably won’t actually go to sleep.

###

The following is for the sake of writing something. No real stories were harmed in the making of this slightly nonsensical post. I’ll resume regular posting once I’ve gotten my sleepy-self together and gotten some rest.

There’s no way to sugarcoat this, I’ve been laying on my couch for hours watching TV. The end of this week greets me with two parts exhaustion and one part too much laundry to fold, mail to sort through, taxes to file, and kitchen to clean.  Oh– and blog post to write! And I really wanted to complete this post on Friday proper…but now it’s after midnight AND we are in a different month (watch out for April Fools’ Day tricks today!). So much for the hour each day (in my defense, My laptop has been open since around 10:00 pm) ha!

I really should be sleeping right now, but I’ve been blessed and cursed with simultaneously being a night owl and an early bird. Most people refer to this as being an insomniac.

I’ve just been glued to Grey’s Anatomy (this last episode was so sweet and sad!) and then I watched The 33 which is the story about the San Jose Mine that collapsed in Chile, trapping 33 miners inside.  This movie is a few years old– and so is the (true) story…so I’m a little late.  But since my life has been a series of better late than nevers, I think I’m okay. Speaking of late, I think it’s incredible that those miners were trapped for as long as they were, and even though it took months for them to return safely to the surface, all of them survived. I also think it’s tragic that they were never compensated by the San Jose Mining Company. But this story, like life, is beautiful, complex, and bittersweet.

If you’ve made it this far (in this post, I mean) I applaud you. Because I’m getting the heck out of here!

🏃🏽‍♀️

ZZZZzzzzzzz… (hopefully!)

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Oh my goodness– so five days in a row! If anyone is still actually reading this–thank you!

In my last post, I talked about my hectic (albeit fulfilling) work schedule last Tuesday. Today’s schedule wasn’t as crazy but just as filling. This evening we (YWCA) partnered with IJPC (Intercommunity Justice and Peace Center) to host a series called Days of Dialogue. The purpose of the series is to create shared meaning amongst community members through reflective listening. This means listening to understand instead of listening to respond. Tonight’s conversation prompt was “Do you believe it is true that we are an equal opportunity nation? Do people of color have equal access to the ‘American Dream’?”

Each attendee had the chance to respond to the prompt, but everyone had to first paraphrase what the person before them said so as to be sure that person was understood.  It’s a process that folks can take and use in their everyday lives. We hope it can promote at least some positive change in some lives.

Earlier this afternoon, I met with a group I’ve been involved with for the past year working on getting the city to pass a CEDAW ordinance. What’s CEDAW?  You ask. It stands for the Convention on the Elimination of All forms of Discrimination Against Women. Why is this important? There are many reasons, not least of all that being treated justly is a human right, but also because discrimination is not cool.

Meriam Webster defines discrimination as the unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people or things, especially on the grounds of race, age, or sex.

This makes me think about an incredulous comment someone said to me years ago. The comment directly affected my livelihood, but I wasn’t equipped with the knowledge or tools that I am now to properly address the situation.

This happened  maybe 20 years ago. A good friend of mine worked at a luxury car dealership as the receptionist. I don’t remember why she left–I think it was because she was pregnant–but I needed a job at the time so she put in a really good word for me and I got the job without even having to interview for it.

Working there was interesting. I was the receptionist but I was also working as the cashier for the service department. Remember, this was a luxury car dealership. So the customer base was comprised of very wealthy, fancy car drivers. And those fancy cars cost a lot to service. I kid you not– one time someone had a $10,000 service bill. They paid half with a check (this was back before everyone paid for everything with their credit cards) and the other half was in cash. This was not an uncommon occurrence.

When I started that job, I was told that every six months I would be reviewed to receive a raise. So after working there for almost a year and a half and having asked my boss a couple of times about meeting with me to talk about my review, I wondered if we would ever have that discussion.

Finally, after asking him multiple times to at least have the conversation with me, he took me into his office. I’ll never forget what he said because–to this day–it really bothers me.

He said: “I was watching you the other day. And I noticed you were using a calculator.” Then he explains why he cannot give me a raise.

He said, “You using a calculator shows me that you have self-esteem issues.”

I still believe that not only was this one of the most ridiculous reasons to give someone for not giving them a raise but if I’m handling all of that money, OF COURSE I want to be sure I’m giving the proper change/adding up the bills correctly. So to be told this was the reason I was not receiving a raise (Oh! one thing I forgot to mention is we’re not talking a significant raise or even something earth shattering. It was like 50 cents…so…) just felt belittling.  I still feel like he said this to me because he could.

And he could. Because I didn’t do anything except sit in shocked silence for a moment or two, walk over to gather my things, and walked out.

I realize now that probably wasn’t the best way to handle the situation,  but I couldn’t stay there for one moment longer.

If this were to happen to you, what would you have done? And do you think I’m overreacting for letting it get to me to this day? Please comment below.

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I met up with a fellow Rising Star yesterday (just so you know I’m not being pretentious, Rising Stars is the name of the leadership program we’re in that trains professionals to serve as equity leaders on nonprofit and arts boards…so if you’re in the program you’re called a Rising Star) to catch up and chat about our backgrounds, what’s going on in our careers, and what happened to me over the course of last week. After I gave her the rundown, she suggested I blog about it. So I thought it might be cool to recap last Tuesday’s series of events, which will also give a glimpse of some of the racial justice work I do. Before I go into all of that, special shout out and THANK YOU to my stepmom who so graciously and tremendously helps take care of my daughter so I can pull off  these ridiculously long days.

Last Tuesday (March 21) was the YWCA’s annual Racial Justice Breakfast. Each year we bring in someone from the legal community to foster meaningful dialogue about racism’s personal and community-wide effects. The speakers talk about issues they’ve faced and alternative ways to address those issues. Our speaker this year was Adam Foss, former Assistant District Attorney in the Juvenile Division of Suffolk County (in Massachusetts), who talked about restorative justice and having compassion in criminal justice. The event sells out each year and on the day of folks start filling seats even before the sun rises. So it’s good stuff– but it’s an early day. This year my role was walking up on half-awake people, with my selfie-sticked, cellphone-attached self, asking them if they were excited to be there and what they were looking forward to hearing before (and afterward what they liked most). Only three people ran away from me ha! Click here to watch one of those videos.

Immediately following the breakfast, I had to make my way uptown to the Martin Luther King Coalition meeting. The MLK Coalition meets monthly throughout the year to plan and coordinate activities for MLK day. The events focus on King’s message, how others have carried on in his footsteps, and how best to carry his dream forward. The coalition is comprised of community members and representatives from various local organizations. During this last meeting, I unintentionally volunteered (Or was volunTOLD ha!) to be one of two people on the speakers committee. So I’ll be a part of finding a speaker for next year’s MLK event. If you have any suggestions for dynamic speakers, please leave a comment below. Thanks!

Something I think that’s really cool is one of the coalition members is Frances Canty, one of the original Freedom Riders. Frances is very kind and humble and she’s the second from the left in the image below.

Everyone else pictured is awesome, too. They are also coalition members. Except for the lady to my left. That’s my mom. She joined me that day to help us set up for this year’s MLK Legacy breakfast.

To end the day, I helped with set up for a series the YWCA has been a part of the last year: Rethinking Racism, which is a multicultural dialogue community working towards an antiracist society. This particular event focused on race and racism in Cincinnati. Part of the program featured a biracial woman who framed her story by saying she has the DNA of the oppressed and the oppressor within her– she is a descendant of both slaves and slave owners. She shared her story about what it was like growing up without a lot of money, but in a wealthy predominantly white neighborhood. Her story was very moving.

All of my work days don’t last from 4:30 am until 8:30 pm, but when they do– if they’re like last Tuesday’s– they’re pretty cool.

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I  thought it might be a good idea for me to take a moment to give thanks. This blog is probably going to be filled with stories and stuff about me and my mis/adventures so I’m thinking it would be nice for me to be intentional about my gratefulness. There’s a phrase that YWCA-ers (“YWCA-ers” is not really a thing, I’m making it a thing right now) use: “lift as you climb.” I have had a lot of women lift me up as they’ve climbed, or push me up as they struggled, or nudge me forward as they crawled, or pull me ahead as they rose. Or given me words of encouragement. This hour will be used to contain the space for me to thank you. Forgive me if I’ve left your name out–I’ve had SO much help along the way. And even if you’ve said a word of kindness to me, you’re a part of that.

(these are, for the most part, in no particular order…and instead of listing duplicate names, I will think of the multiple women who have the same name. And this list will not be static. It will, undoubtedly, grow):

Opal, Vivian, Verna, Tricia, Mary, Jane, Wanda, Kristen, Amiee, Angelica, Leah, Jeanetta, Paula, Anne, Kathleen, Kate, Maggie, Marian, Noel, Trudy, Stephanie, Noelle, Melissa, Mandy, Angela, Sandi, Angela, Kristie, Elizabeth, Jessica, Jocelyn, Judy, Diona, Missy, Lisa, Minnie, Linda, Patrice, Amanda, Laura, Drea, Holly, Michelle, Shelley, Diane, Diana, Charia, Mairaliz, Genne, Enisha, Reathanak, Shanna, Jen, Lisa, Courtney, Lauren, Lauryn, Miranda, Young, Rasha, Olivia, Billie, Michele, Angelina, Denisse, Lynze, Nadia, Mariah, Charmane, Bianca, Tiffanny, Andrea, Nikki, Nicki, Christine, Kristine, Jodi, Jo, Shannon, Devon, Becky, LeeAnn, Corey, Shonda, Jeri, Jennifer, Jen, Lori, Elissa, Delilah, Abby, Heather, Nancy, Tayo, Emily, Kristin, Krysten, Alex, Joyce, Lindsey, Theresa, Marisa, Pam, Sonya, Rae, Cherise, Erika, Shana, Fateema, Chan, Betsy, Melonee, Angie, Dawn, Lanelle, Lynette, Veronica, Gihani, Andrea, Helen, Elissa, Martha, Frances, Nahamani, Marsha, Renee, Ashley, Gabrielle, Teri, Wijdan, Barbara, Meghan, Vanessa, Hope, De Asa, Aeriel, Brae, Barb, Felicia, Carrie, Annie, Lindsay, Lindsey, Jill, Sandy, Luz, Betti, Eileen, Gina, Toi, Donna, Carly, Phyllis, Lisa, Rachel, Erica, Amy, Yvette, Jessy, Julie, Sally, Kara, Siobhan, Dana, Mallory, Jade, Monica, Adoria, Kaiya, Anna, Shakila, Mary Carol, Rebecca, Zhuo, Pama, Eva, Tamaya, Tyra, Carolyn, Karen, Bleuzette, Meredith, Quanita, Sophia, Avery, Erinn, Debbie, Kate, Sherri, Zina, Mila, Susan, Jac, Jenny, Marielle, Jenise, Shanna, Erin, Margy, Margaret, Serpil, Shareatha, Megan, Amber, Tina, Lethia, Jo, Alisha, Alicia, Alyse, Sara, Nichole, Tiffany, Maria, Paris, Kesha, Semira, Lakshmi, Princess, Chara, Donna, Adrienne, Kristina, Charmane, Christina, Ericka, Cherie, Maira, Pricilla, Alexis, Joy, Tonya, Jamila, Alethea, Ellen, Hannah, Christee, Kimberly, Rana, Rena, Kimberly, Sun, Aimee, Stephanie, Marcelina, Sharon, Cori, Sarah, Angie, Nicole, Shawna, Seante, Jeanetta, Anjylla, Amber, Pheap, Denise, Toni, Rahiel, Cynthia, Liz, April, Allison, Apryl, Sherry, Alicia, Diane, Louise, Allison, Kelli, Brae, Lirie, Kelley, Lindsay, Mycah,  Glennon, Iris, Eileen, Quanita, Katie, Jackie, Angie, Brooke…to be continued…

To each of you, Thank You.

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In case my last post was TLDR (too long didn’t read), here’s a stand-alone version of The Letter that Changed my Life.

I am one of the women you talked about during the opening speech. I was a teenage single-mother. A high school drop-out who, at the age of sixteen, gave birth to a baby boy. Despite my circumstances, something inside of me knew I was more than the current situation I was living.

So I went to community classes and got my G.E.D. I even managed to get into the University of Cincinnati as an electronic media major, but because I hadn’t yet matured enough to make the best decisions — I’d spent formative years, the ones when most teens were planning their proms and studying for SAT’s, figuring out how to take care of my son and myself — I wasn’t successful.

I was in an abusive relationship for years, which I ultimately allowed to lead to my dropping out of school for a second time. Thankfully, I finally developed the wherewithal to get out of the relationship before it was too late.

Even though I worked numerous odd jobs, I needed welfare to make ends meet – off and on – for many, many years.

My second pregnancy, 12 years later, was the tipping point for me. I was, again, a single-mother (a daughter this time) and I knew if I didn’t do something to climb out of poverty, I would be in its clutches forever.

For the next eight years, I inched toward economic self-sufficiency. First earning my associate’s degree in humanities and next a certificate in women and gender studies along with a bachelor’s in journalism from UC, all while working at least part time, in combination with receiving some type of government assistance — sometimes food, at other times housing or medical, but always something.

Most people don’t know this about me. It’s not something one goes around announcing.

 In fact, a colleague of mine recently shared their candid opinion about people who have been on welfare, not knowing that I had once been one of “those people.”

And I didn’t share that I’d been “one of them.”

There is such a stigma attached to anyone who has needed government assistance — or help of any kind, for that matter. Most people think anyone who has ever been on it is lazy, undeserving, looking for a way to get over or just wants a hand-out.

For me, it was a hand up.

I recently earned my latest degree – a master’s in communication – from the University of Cincinnati.

 Twenty years, two children, and thousands of dollars in student loan debt later, I’ve finally broken free from the ties of welfare. I may not yet be rich, but I am self-sufficient.

The work you’re doing is vital — if you can change just one woman’s life, it is all worth it. I image that if I, someone who was and is very resourceful, didn’t know about the important work you’re doing or the resources you provide, there must be other women who don’t know and need to know.

Thank you for the work that you do. Please let me know if there’s any way I can help your cause. 

Sincerely,

Desiré Bennett

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Life is full of coincidental moments, if we only take the time to pay attention. When I said I didn’t know how full Saturday’s moment was, I wasn’t kidding. To explain what I mean, I’ll first start with this post.

You may have noticed that the first (and up until today, nearly last!) posts on this site were entered in 2010 when I had the opportunity to travel to Italy as part of a study abroad program while I was working toward my journalism degree. Since I’ve pretty much lived my life out of sequence since I was a teenager, I was nervous about being a 33-year-old (at the time) because I just knew I’d be like this old maid with a group of young college students (not saying that 33 is old…it’s just feels like it when you’re the non-traditional college student). Imagine my surprise when I was the third youngest in a group of eight people (shame on me for jumping to conclusions)! But really, this is a story for another day.

The point of my mentioning this is that I used a check book to pay for my trip (old school, I know) that I also used last Saturday to donate to the Women’s Fund at the conclusion of my speech. I only use these checks to pay for things that are super important to me (a trip to Europe, give to a cause I care deeply about) – because I feel like writing a physical check is an intentional act with true meaning behind it.  Plus, the checks are really sweet because they have images of “magical” scenes from various Disney movies on them, so it adds a whimsical twist to whatever the situation is. Also, there’s a coincidental story behind why I chose to name this post OMFG which I’ll get to in a subsequent post sometime in the future.

Alright—did you get all of that? Okay. So, back to yesterday’s “Full Circle Moment” post and the series of events that led me to that moment.

So I’m sitting in the audience listening to the Women’s Fund’s Executive Director talk about the ways their organization works to spread awareness about the issues single mothers face on their climb toward economic self-sufficiency—and I couldn’t believe that there was an organization fighting for me. Well, not ME me, but women like me.

I was so moved by this that I went home and wrote a letter to that executive director, sharing my story, thanking her for the work she was doing, and asking how I could get involved. Below is some of that letter:

I am one of the women you talked about during the opening speech. I was a teenage single-mother. A high school drop-out who, at the age of sixteen, gave birth to a baby boy. Despite my circumstances, something inside of me knew I was more than the current situation I was living.

So I went to community classes and got my G.E.D. I even managed to get into the University of Cincinnati as an electronic media major, but because I hadn’t yet matured enough to make the best decisions — I’d spent formative years, the ones when most teens were planning their proms and studying for SAT’s, figuring out how to take care of my son and myself — I wasn’t successful.

I was in an abusive relationship for years, which I ultimately allowed to lead to my dropping out of school for a second time. Thankfully, I finally developed the wherewithal to get out of the relationship before it was too late.

Even though I worked numerous odd jobs, I needed welfare to make ends meet – off and on – for many, many years.

My second pregnancy, 12 years later, was the tipping point for me. I was, again, a single-mother (a daughter this time) and I knew if I didn’t do something to climb out of poverty, I would be in its clutches forever.

For the next eight years, I inched toward economic self-sufficiency. First earning my associate’s degree in humanities and next a certificate in women and gender studies along with a bachelor’s in journalism from UC, all while working at least part time, in combination with receiving some type of government assistance — sometimes food, at other times housing or medical, but always something.

Most people don’t know this about me. It’s not something one goes around announcing.

 In fact, a colleague of mine recently shared their candid opinion about people who have been on welfare, not knowing that I had once been one of “those people.”

And I didn’t share that I’d been “one of them.”

There is such a stigma attached to anyone who has needed government assistance — or help of any kind, for that matter. Most people think anyone who has ever been on it is lazy, undeserving, looking for a way to get over or just wants a hand-out.

For me, it was a hand up.

I recently earned my latest degree – a master’s in communication – from the University of Cincinnati.

 Twenty years, two children, and thousands of dollars in student loan debt later, I’ve finally broken free from the ties of welfare. I may not yet be rich, but I am self-sufficient.

The work you’re doing is vital — if you can change just one woman’s life, it is all worth it. I image that if I, someone who was and is very resourceful, didn’t know about the important work you’re doing or the resources you provide, there must be other women who don’t know and need to know.

Thank you for the work that you do. Please let me know if there’s any way I can help your cause. 

Sincerely,

Desiré Bennett

###

There’s something about the energy of Florence, Italy that just grabs you. Perhaps it’s the feeling of bewilderment that takes hold of you as you navigate the streets and explore the maze of alleyways that run up and down Firenze.  One things for sure though — if you only have a few days to explore the city, but you have no idea where to go — you will become overwhelmed and may end up missing out on some of the best sites in Florence.  So I’ve decided to share with you my five favorite things to do!

SANTA CROCE
SANTA CROCE was founded in 1294 and is boasted as being one of the finest Gothic churches in Italy.  It houses countless masterpieces including paintings of 14th century Florentine design including Gaddi’s The Tree of the Cross and The Last Supper and many 15^th century monumental masterpieces. The tomb of Michelangelo is also in Santa Croce. Here I am in front of it:

IL GALLERIA DEGLI UFFIZI
The Uffizi museum  is home to countless works of art, which are displayed in chronological order, starting with pieces from as far back as the 13^th century. Some of the most widely known paintings include Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and Primavera — which are so enormous and intricately rendered that one could spend a solid hour observing the beauty of them.  I wasn’t allowed to use my camera or video camera while I was in there (I think that I wasn’t even supposed to take it in, but I turned it off and kept it in my bag!), but I’ve included Botticelli’s Birth of Venus for your viewing pleasure:

THE BAPISTRY
The Battistero, or Florence Baptistry, built between 1059 and 1158, it is one of the oldest buildings in the city of Florence.  The Baptistery is most known for its sets of three doors which adorn the building’s octagonal shape.  The Gates of Paradise are amazing! Here I am standing in front of them:

IL DUOMO

The Duomo commands the attention of passerby’s. The Duomo is a colossal masterpiece which took over six centuries to complete and is topped off by a massive dome that was designed by Italian architect Filippo Brunelleschi. The first time I saw this massive structure, I yelled “OH MY GOD!” I couldn’t believe how huge and amazing it was. I still can’t. If you’re in Florence, you’re sure to see at least the outside of the Duomo whether you plan to or not. You just can’t miss it.

LAST, BUT NOT LEAST
You must, must MUST have some gelato while in Italy– but while in Florence, you really should stop by Grom — they have thee best gelato around. And if you can– try to eat it AT LEAST once everyday while you’re in Florence.