Sealed in the steel-caged driver’s seat and wearing a royal blue, flame-retardant jumpsuit, I stepped on the gas and whipped the NASCAR race car to 120 miles an hour. Black girl coming through!
I headed toward the frighteningly deep curve ahead on the Chicagoland Speedway, my jaw and knuckles vibrating. I was so out of my comfort zone, my heart was racing as fast as my vehicle.
I had three of my Detroit buddies—Mia, Brenda, and Angenette—to thank for this situation. We met in 2006 at my home church, Christian Tabernacle, in Michigan, forming a prayer group and coordinating new-member and baptism classes. One day Mia cornered us with a wild idea, pamphlets about white-water rafting in her hand. “Let’s do it!” “I’m in!” “What’s white-water rafting exactly?”
We christened ourselves the Dare Divas, and we soon found alter egos doing things we’d never dreamed our fortysomething selves would be doing, like zooming around a NASCAR track, riding a motorcycle, zip-lining in West Virginia, and skydiving.
“Dare Divas Unite!” became our battle...