A little after the height of its popularity, I was a 20-something moving to New York, but Carrie's all-white, big-city misadventures didn't whet my appetite for life in the city. That label belongs to Sidney Shaw in Brown Sugar and the iconic opening scene for The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Still, when I finally watched SATC from pilot to series finale around 2011 while living as a Harlem transplant, I understood (and even adored) the dream the show was selling: a charming studio apartment, high-end threads, morning-after girl talks in cafes and a never-ending carousel of men. It highlighted the classic four-girl friendship we’ve seen led by Joan (Girlfriends), Issa (Insecure), and Khadijah (Living Single) but with a thick air of fantasy — because let's face it: only Carrie could afford such a lifestyle on a freelance writers' salary — and the glaring treatment of Black women as ornamental at best, nonexistent at worst. Immediately, I knew to manage my expectations for representation of authentic Black women characters. This show wasn’t written to be a realistic portrait of NYC’s racial landscape; it’s to watch white women live lavishly in a world cocooned by white privilege.