Nailz + Beauty

I almost let society convince me that 10 years in business wasn’t worth celebrating.

I built something real. I survived things most people don’t know about. And I stayed quiet about all of it for too long.

Not anymore.

Every piece of raw content I put out is a breadcrumb. Breadcrumbs to my liberation. Back to the woman I forgot. Back to who the f*** I actually am.

And I’m just getting started.

Don’t forget to follow for the next chapter. 🤎

He sat down in my chair, picked out a blue smiley face sticker and asked me if it would look good on his purple nails.

And I thought — this is exactly what self-expression looks like when somebody finally feels safe enough to just be themselves.

Because here’s what most people don’t know —

I have this conversation more than you think. Guys who want their nails done. Guys who want to dye their hair a different color. Guys who want to take care of themselves and express who they are creatively.

But they’re afraid.

Not because they don’t want to. Because they’re terrified of being labeled. Judged. Frowned upon. Just for expressing themselves.

And that breaks my heart every single time.

Because since when did taking care of yourself become something you have to justify to anyone?

We want guys to have clean hands, neat nails, and soft skin. But the second they sit in a nail chair and ask for a little art — society has something to say.

Make it make sense.

My studio has always been — and will always be — a safe space for every beautiful soul who wants to show up, take care of themselves, and express who they are without explanation or apology.

Your nails. Your art. Your choice.

That’s my take. Now what’s yours? Drop it below.

Let me introduce you to someone you should already know.

Her name is Olvette Robinson.

In 1983 — in Southern California — she and her Vietnamese business partner Charlie Vo co-founded one of the first nail salon chains in America. It was called Man Trap. And it became the blueprint for a billion dollar industry.

Black women were the core clientele. Their dollars. Their loyalty. Their presence. That’s what made it successful.

And then something happened.

As the industry grew — Olvette Robinson’s name started disappearing. Slowly. Quietly. Until today if you Google the history of nail salons her name barely shows up.

The industry she helped birth is now over 79% immigrant owned and operated. Vietnamese workers alone make up more than half of all nail technicians across the country. Black ownership? Less than 10%.

Those numbers aren’t an accident. They’re the result of what happens when the people who built something get written out of their own story.

She didn’t just lose credit. She was erased.

And Black women — the same women who built the clientele, who spent their dollars, who showed up week after week — are now treated like outsiders in an industry their community helped create.

I’m a Black nail tech. I trained at a Black owned nail school. I have been doing nails since before some of these shops existed in my city.

And I have been discriminated against. In this industry. By my own people. In shops that wouldn’t exist without us.

That’s not what happens when an industry grows.

That’s what happens when Black people build something and the world pretends they were never there.

Know Olvette Robinson’s name. Share this post. Make sure her story doesn’t stay buried.

The nail industry owes Black women everything. And it starts with saying her name out loud.

Olvette Robinson. Remember it.