That’s me.

I love a hobby and an opportunity to learn something new. But you know what I haven’t learned to master? Painting.

I used to write it off early, before even trying. The concept of it was always so intimidating, and I never knew why. But recently, I have taken it up as a hobby to still my mind, and I’m surprised how enjoyable it is— and how good I am.

Art is subjective right? So what really defines paintings/art as good art?1

I didn’t know what I was doing or what I wanted to create. One thing I did know, painting is messy, and it made me somewhat uncomfortable. The paint smearing on my hands caused an odd sensation that I wasn’t familiar with.

You see, I like to keep my physical being clean. Textures can throw me off, and so I resist and avoid most things mess2. But I wanted to give in to the mess. And then it hit me, I need to give in to the mess.

Literally, and perhaps figuratively, but it’s true. I needed to give in to the mess. I think sometimes the fear of perfection is so daunting that we (I) prohibit ourselves (myself) from going all in. We want the finished product, but not the mess that comes with the creation.

And you know what? Once I gave in, I actually had so much fun. I felt freer to feel the creation rather than analyze every stroke, the line work, and the color choice. Art can be intentional in that way, but for me, I was in a meditative state and wanted to create something with no thought behind it. I just wanted to see where I could lead myself to.

It isn’t finished, but I have an idea of where I want it to go now that I created it from the heart rather than the head.

But that leads me here… how many of us are holding ourselves back because of the fear of immersion? Due to the fear of imperfection and the mess it can cause?

So imagine my surprise when I decided to give up on dating. I have been single for 5 and a half years now, and have never wanted to write about my romantic (or so they say) encounters. I thought it was rather cliché and a bit of clickbait. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy dissecting the wrongs in the dating scene currently? But my last few months of dating have been so draining rather than exciting. Dating should be fun, while also a bit competitive. Not necessarily in the sense of competing with others, but I do believe that when dating and getting to know someone, you both should prove why you deserve a spot in each other’s lives. My time is precious, and I don’t give it to anyone just willy-nilly. My friends say I’m picky and that I don’t give anyone a true chance… but you just know when someone is not worth the investment. Yet, against my better judgment, they still get a solid month out of me.

I’ve recently come across the term “fake futuring” in the context of dating. Someone has caught your attention, yet they know they can’t truly uphold your standards. So they overpromise and underperform while saying just enough buzzwords that keep you in their orbit. It’s pathetic, and it is a waste of everyone’s time. To be told that someone would rather “have a piece of you than none at all” is not the flex one thinks it should be. It’s actually more insulting to know that someone just needs a little bit of you, without wanting the full thing. I mean, imagine preparing a meal you have taken years to perfect: consistently reexamining the recipe, seeing what needs to be altered to make it fully presentable while simultaneously staying true to its original essence, just for your guests to take a bite or two and determine it’s not quite enough, but that it’ll do. That they get McDonald’s on the way home because they know that’ll keep them satisfied while appeasing their host. It’s insulting.

So, I’m giving it up. I have no desire to initiate anything. This doesn’t mean that I am giving up on love or romance, but there is more than just saying all the right things with no follow through.

And, if I’m honest, it saddens me.

It seems as if no one is interested in understanding others nowadays, but is perpetually adamant about being understood. People are grouchy and simultaneously oversexual. Their lust leads their decision-making, and that’s okay if you’re upfront about it. The scheming and playing a role just to get into someone’s pants is where it gets annoying. I have bigger fish to fry, and dating shouldn’t be as draining as it is. It feels more like a chore than it does a treat.

Maybe that’s why my peers (aged 26-29) aren’t seen out as socially. In this age range, you are quietly preparing the foundation for the next chapter of your life. In this climate, it isn’t easy either. We are in an economic and physical war. A class war that is resulting in a recession (depression), and trying to make new relationships doesn’t feel as authentic as it should be.

At this time, it feels as if this period of time is centered around me and what I want my life to look like, and who I want in it with me. This has been a time of investing in the connections I currently have rather than fostering new ones. And if i’m honest, it feels a bit lonely as everyone else is on their individual journey and making sure their foundation is concrete. Some are getting married, some are having children. Some are making strides in their careers, while some of us are unemployed and living with family.

There is so much happening in the world that I refuse to sit around and text all day with no hope of meeting up in person. Especially when you have been shown time and time again that there are people who are willing to go that extra mile to prove their dedication.

But when they show up, oh baby, I am not letting go.

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I’ve been watching The Gilded Age on HBO Max and am excited for the new season to come out. If you aren’t familiar, here’s a quick synopsis: The Gilded Age is a historical drama set in New York during the Gilded Age era of the United States. Think Vanderbilt, railroads, the emergence of steel, and factory work. Some characters are historically accurate, such as Caroline Astor, a reflection of the socialite of the same name who ruled New York. While other characters, like George and Bertha Russell, are a play on Alva Vanderbilt and Jay Gould. There are other notable figures in New York society, but not as directly linked/represented. Not only does the show examine the interconnectedness of New York’s infamous 400 list, but it also does an exceptional job at exploring the ever-evolving life of Black Americans post-Civil War.

My intention with this piece is not to dissect the intricacies of the show itself, but rather to examine and break down the themes showcased and how they have influenced our culture in modern times. The major theme I have noticed and have been reflecting on most is this desire to get rich and maintain that wealth to establish oneself in society. The entirety of the show recycles this argument of Old Money vs. New Money, at least for the white folx. There’s this argument and almost damnation in which the money isn’t legitimized if it hadn’t been established before the Civil War.

Old money was established through slavery, fur trading, and real estate. The New Money had been established through the railroad industry, the textile and manufacturing industries, such as steel, and banking. As the industries were new, onlookers became skeptical of those weaseling their way into Society and the wives fought hard to cement themselves amongst the 400. New Money was not considered reliable enough for the rich to marry off their children to the wealthy, so while the new wives fought tooth and nail for their parties to have attendees, they also had to find ways to keep their money long-term.

Rich people marry rich people, but the old money was not keen on fusing their wealth with people who just made their money yesterday. It wasn’t stable enough to risk their family name for a group of people who threw a good shindig. This is when we start to see the implementation of the “Dollar Princess,” where young women of New York’s (newly) finest were being married off to Dukes and British nobility to maintain their riches, as they were excluded from society otherwise.

So that’s the historical context from the other side of the tracks. It is rather riveting and juicy how Mothers pimped out their daughters to remain invited to tea, but what I’m most interested in is how the Black people made themselves relevant in society when all was new to them.

In The Gilded Age, the show follows a young Black journalist named Peggy Scott who finds herself not only working for the Van Rhijn family but also working to uncover stories about racial tensions in the South, as well as working to unite women of color and white women to fight for feminist issues. As her storyline continues, we watch her fall in love and fight against the respectability politics that are imposed on (younger) Black women while simultaneously combatting colorism and classism.

You see, Peggy is a dark-skinned Black woman with a brown-skinned mother and a dark-skinned father who is believed to have escaped the South before emancipation. Her father, Arthur, went to school and opened up a Pharmacy to make something of himself. One would say he did an exceptional job considering where he first began in life, yet his background and physicality leave room for judgment from other Black folk of a lighter complexion.

Black people can be extremely classist and often colorist— but it’s because of the white gaze. I mean, what isn’t? As freed slaves migrated North for a better way of life, the hierarchy began to be placed as a form of division. White people initially couldn’t fathom the idea of Black people at large having manners, showcasing wealth, and advancing themselves through education or financial matters. So Black people showed them off. They were indignant at being the object of a spectacle, so they wanted to make it a point to never affront the white man. Think about it— how many times have you heard an older Black person state that you shouldn’t walk out of the house with a bonnet on or to be sure to look “presentable” to avoid giving white people something to talk about? To not give in to the stereotype? To code-switch in their presence? Or even being told you “talk white”? It all predates the Gilded Age, but took form as the Black identity began to come into question.

It’s interesting, the juxtaposition. While white folk were unionizing and protesting against millionaires, Black people were striving to catch up and creating their own aristocracy. They became affluent and educated people. Business-savvy and charismatic people who looked down on those who may have found a living doing blue-collar work and were just happy to not have been enslaved, or who still resided in the South.

It’s a catch-22, really. Black people who escaped the South were in search of this new reality that gave them autonomy and the ability to live freely, to make something of themselves. While Black Northerners looked down their noses and found Southerners a liability, and possibly jeopardized the work and the class that was curated.

Confused? Think of the Jack and Jills of America.

The Black debutaunts and elites who are the poster children of what a “good Negro” ought to be like. They aren’t threatening to the white man because they have studied the white man. They see what is considered acceptable by those who created this patriarchal society and adhere to it through respectability politics. Sacrificing the eroticism channeled by the challenging persona and Spirit of African Americans to be well-liked and still racially discriminated against. Our Aunties who permed our hair at 5 years old because it wasn’t manageable and would hope to pass the paper bag test still uphold these standards today.

And you know what? They aren’t very different than the niggas who would post a money spread on Instagram.

And let me tell you why: both are striving for the acceptance that was indoctrinated by a patriarchal and capitalist standard.

To this day, Black people are striving to make millions and billions. I have seen numerous social media posts and even responses from children I used to teach, whose goal is to be the first billionaire in their family. I want to be completely clear—I reject the idea of having to hoard so much money that I have more than 98-99% of the global population. And it isn’t even just Black people; I’ve noticed it’s all people who are striving for this. We used to be a proper country that terrified the wealthy by abstaining from work, rioting, and demanding that they utilize their money in ways that would benefit the middle class. How do you think we got Carnegie Hall?

Now, we are congratulating celebrities on their Instagram posts for officially becoming billionaires as if they’re gonna let you hold $201.

Jay-Z recently spoke with GQ magazine about the morality of being a billionaire and believes we should condemn the system rather than the individual who was able to hack the system. And I get it. To some degree, I agree.

I have a respect for Jay-Z as an artist because he’s constantly trying to maintain the culture and true essence of hip-hop. He’s never been one to shy from direct conversations about what does and does not make hip-hop so authentic and its contributions to the Black American experience. My disdain comes from him being a capitalist– he understands the system for what it is and embraces it. Unfortunately, that also means that he doesn’t practice how the system could be. He makes donations and conducts philanthropic activities that present well, just for the tax breaks, but doesn’t directly attack issues such as poverty. He invests, doesn’t speak on politics, nor influence it. But he’ll put his opinions in his music, so he can profit from it.

He isn’t the only celebrity to hack the code: Selena Gomez, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, and Rihanna popularized it. Even Megan Thee Stallion is on the same trajectory with her current business endeavors. Constantly referencing being in love with money and wanting to maintain wealth. Her foundation, Pete & Thomas, is an incredible business venture that gives back to the community, no doubt, but the non-profit industrial complex proves that this will be a major tax break for Megan in regard to taxes and maintaining her wealth.

I know the United States is facing the repercussions of late-stage capitalism— where corporations are dominating politics that influence the everyday man— creating class inequities on top of racial and gender discrimination. It is easy to be divisive and to turn our backs against those who may need it most. The implementation of racism, sexism, ageism, and any other -ism you can think of has been utilized as a distraction tactic against what truly matters. And that’s fighting against a government that has abandoned us and our rights. This isn’t to negate the -ism’s as malarkey, because they were ingrained in the creation of this nation and must be dealt with; but this is to bring into focus that the longer we stay divided, the longer we stay distracted. And the more they2 get away with.

Currently, across the United States, poor white people, Black people, immigrants, women, and children alike are experiencing so much hardship. The current Trump administration is choosing to ignore the dangers of AI data centers, the teachers who are leaving classrooms, and cancelling late-night talk shows because their hosts are using their right to free speech to condemn this atrocity. This administration has cut programs to assist areas that are impacted by natural disasters and cut programs that were created to predict when these disasters will occur. Asheville, NC is still recovering from Hurricane Helene.

So yes, Jay-Z is right. As a collective, we should condemn the system and fight against it. In the same breath, we should hold those who we give our money to, and have the power to end poverty, and influence legislation with the money we give them, to a higher standard.

Withhold your money. It’s only a matter of time until the pendulum swings back.

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As a kid, I was always drawing on myself. Anything I could make with a Sharpie, I did it: stars, hearts, clouds, smiley faces– at the time, I believed my artistic abilities were limited. My mother hated it, mainly because she didn’t want the ink seeping into my veins and poisoning me. But what can I say? I loved the aesthetic that tattoos and piercings provide.

The alternative look was so exciting to me, and my Tumblr reflected that. It wasn’t until I pierced my own ears that my Mom decided to give in to my indulgences and take me to get piercings she felt appropriate for a teenager. She even paid for my first tattoo. At that moment, I never appreciated her more.

Over 9 years, I have gathered 18 tattoos and have been pierced 18 times as well. Luckily, piercings can be removed, and tattoos can be covered up. Some things I have changed my mind on, and others I am happily reminded that it’s there. But for me, it has always been about self-expression– expression of pain, happiness, or boredom. Before, I collected tattoos because I had the money and felt an itch for the needle to hit my skin. There was very little thought of how I wanted my pieces to represent me, other than the fact that I liked them and felt content with them being on my body. But now?

Now I am a bit more intentional about my tattoos. Blame it on the frontal lobe, blame it on maturing, blame it on whatever, but I am not so quick to get a tattoo as I once was before. Not because I am afraid of it limiting my job prospects, but I find that body modifications feel like a Spiritual process for me now, and I want to ensure that whatever I add feels right with my Spirit rather than what I am feeling in the moment.

Across the world, tattooing was a practice used to foster connection. Connection to those in the physical and metaphysical realms. In Indigenous cultures, tattooing was used to distinguish which tribe one belonged to, as well as historical markers, ceremonial practices, and Spiritual advancements. Even in African American cultures across the country, tattoos were used as a form of protection, personal power, reverence, and guidance from the Ancestors.

The policing of body modifications is a form of colonization that withholds the person from the benefits of adornment. Some may find it tacky and mischaracterize others as unpleasant to the eye, but me? Tattooing has been a marker of my Spiritual journey and the growth I have made throughout my years. There’s a story to be told, even if the tattoo was “just because”, it is a marker in time of our lives that reminds us of where we once were.

As I build my physical portfolio, I want to ensure that my markers are a representation of not only myself, but my connection to Spirit itself. These are constant reminders of my personal power and who I was created to be.

How do you adorn yourself, and how does it bring you power?

Initially, COTED was used as my personal diary, but as I think about the direction I want MM1 to move into, it needs some structure.

So now we have Eat, Pray, Love. Inspired by the film2, this section will follow the same:

Eat: signifying indulgence and the enjoyment of life. Will I be traveling throughout Italy? One day, within the next three years, but until then, I will be discussing what brings me joy.

Pray: the exploration of Spirituality and its journey. How do my Christian upbringing, following of Astrology, and communication with my Ancestors take part in my everyday life?

Love: emotional fulfillment and meaningful connections. How am I experiencing love, and how can I better show love?

I’m excited for this journey and am excited to bring you with me. How are you incorporating these three elements into your life? May we be intentional together.

With love,

Giera

It’s March 1st, and I am itching for Spring to begin. After several weeks of snowstorms, belowing-freezing temperatures, and these eclipses, I am so ready to feel the warmth of the sun and humid air. It’s imperative.

But I must be honest, this winter was not restful for me. I’ve been working. I have been trying to make this white man's money—and when I wasn’t, I was running around the thirteen colonies as if I were on the run. I am beat. And there’s something about Spring that screams “lie in an open field and take a nap while listening to the bees,” that I am just itching to give in to.

For the majority of February I have been questioning why any of this is necessary. Call it existential, call it ‘woke’, it may be anarchist, whatever, who cares? But I have been in complete confusion as to why we strive so much for material gain and to represent ourselves through monetary value. Don’t get me wrong, I am materialistic. I like nice things, and I pay for nice things… but why are we as people, as Black people, as people of Spirit and dignity, striving to make millions or billions when we will only see thousands that feel like hundreds.

From a historical and anthropological standpoint, I get it. I’ll address this topic in further detail in another post later this month, but I do understand why Black people, people of color, and immigrants strive to make businesses and to achieve financial freedom in the context of the United States. (Hint: the answer is capitalism) (in short).

Yet, from a Spiritual perspective, I don’t quite get why so many people are asleep. In some capcity my brain feels as if I’m searching around a foggy field looking for someone, anyone, to come save me from impending doom. I speak with friends, and their acknowledgement of our political climate haunts me. Not many are acknowledging what is happening, and if they are, no one is acknowledging the lengths it will take to stop what is happening. They are scared and want to hold out for a hero to save the day. Shit, maybe I am too. But I have to be real with myself and know that there is no individualized hero when genocide, pedophilia, and racism are involved. No. The hero is the collective, and even if we are afraid, we must not let that fear consume us and paralyze us into contempt due to the horrors of the world.

I am ready for Spring. This is not the end of the world, as the world has kept spinning during worse times. But I am ready for Spring. Not just the season but the beginning of a new way of living. A new reality that is promised of peace and relaxation.

If you are someone who wants to take action, have thoughts concerning the state of the world, or simply want to let your imagination run wild in hopes of a brighter day, submit your art here. This collection of manifestos, poems, and creative pieces will be physically distributed to those outside of this platform. Consider it.

i made it to work today.

a nickel for my time, and a

penny for my thoughts.

but the penny was discontinued,

so do i stay or do i go?

another day,

another dollar.

but, this one’s my last, and I gotta make it stretch

so I’m not past due on my rent.

another day, another dollar.

PING

I forgot about that subscription!

i guess there goes my rent.

another day, another dollar—

still broke.

but i made it to work today.

ten minutes early in fact.

why? you may ask.

because another day, another dollar,

and every penny counts.

My apologies for the delayed newsletter; I so desperately needed a break. I needed a break from it all—the job, the routine, the stress, and the worry. I was burning out, and so I did the one thing that I could think of: I called my bestie and took a 24-hour trip to New York.

On my way to meet her, I called up one of my line sisters. She and I were talking about the importance of having something to look forward to now that we’ve been in this adulting game for quite some time. I have been working like a dog day and night, just to maintain. It’s truly draining, and it makes me feel particularly grouchy and unwilling to conversate because I’m just preparing to do it all again the next day. Not having anything to look forward to can really leave you feeling confined to life’s everyday. I felt like Squidward!

My day consists of working out, going to work, eating dinner at work, coming home, and going to bed. There’s hardly any time to pour into myself. Working out is just to keep my body moving, but with such a tight schedule, I’m neglecting my body and am eating unhealthily, leaving me a bite away from a heart attack.

Luckily, the health issues I currently face are reversible, but it puts a lot into perspective. How much of ourselves are we willing to give to capitalism? How much are we willing to give to being burned out and hypnotized by a system that we neglect the better parts of ourselves? Our relationships? Our health? Our access to joy?

There is a creator I found on TikTok, Justin Scott (@cypherj on Substack), who has a video stating, “we have lost the joy of rebellion… the most dangerous thing you can do during an empire in decay is to smile without permission… It’s building joy in the rubble, it’s dancing on the cracked floor… joy was a ritual,” and it’s a ritual we often seem to forget.

During my escapade, I had the time of my life. I danced like no one was watching and felt the tension dissipate from my back and exit out of my hips. Throwing back shots and raising glasses. I was whining to the [afro]beats and stomping on the ground while singing at the top of my lungs to Kirk Franklin.1 I was renewed. Baptized in my own sweat and tears from laughter, the night felt so short despite getting home while the sun was coming up.

We concluded the weekend with some much needed r&r. Debriefing the night with over Guatemalan brunch, mimosas. and tea. I hadn’t felt so stress-free in so long. I felt like a woman who got to nourish her inner girl. I couldn’t be happier. And now, I feel much clearer too.

You see, I, too am someone who is currently engaged with the world. It’s disheartening and leaves me surprised at times. I want to be an active participant in strengthening the community. Yet, it can be so hard and even more discouraging when I cannot find that strength within myself.

I cannot stress how important it is to make time for joy, fun, love, excitement, etc., while there is so much heaviness in the world. Being expected to work 40 hours a week, maintain relationships, and be an active participant while the current government is attempting to execute world domination is intense and insane to even comprehend. Fight or flight will allow you to go into autopilot and do what it is that is necessary to get by just to preserve a piece of mind.

You see, it’s all internal. The work begins within you to be executed well for others to see. In order to strategize and mobilize, we must begin by giving ourselves reminders of what we’re fighting for. The glimmers of love and hope that we see while walking across the street or twerking in the club. Recognizing what it is that keeps us going and makes us feel alive so we can fight for our lives.

Because what will happen when everything we ever knew gets removed from the peripheral if all you focus on is what’s directly in front of you? If you aren’t taking a moment to look around and see what is worth saving? If you prioritize the moments where you can feel joyous, you will be reminded just how much of this world is worth preserving. It encourages you to fight for your happiness; to fight for our freedom and what makes this world spin. Prioritizing your joy keeps you aware of how little you are willing to experience despair and monotony. Because it’s like Justin said, fighting for a better world shouldn’t feel like dying. Because the joy we carry may be the only part of us they couldn’t steal.

The snow has been coming down for hours, and it doesn’t seem as if it is going to stop any time soon. The snowflakes are easily visible despite my need for glasses and are tapping against my ac unit obnoxiously. Or is that the birds trying to peck their way out of the cold while simultaneously taunting my cat?

The storm brought us together today. And by “us” I mean my cousins. Too afraid of being left alone in the snow, we’re under the roof of my grandmother's home, surrounded by her prayers, gin, and not-so-quiet snores. Who knew that girls in their mid-twenties could snore like drunken men?

The truth is, I live for moments like these. When we cousins/siblings can get together and just be. Those times when it feels like “Family Business” by Kanye West is the theme song. There are no rules with us other than respect. We’re 8 years old again, squealing over actors and actresses we find cute, hushing our voices so our elders don’t hear us cursing up a storm, and just letting the night play out. Reminiscing on who we used to be and somewhere deep down knowing that is who we still are.

We had to reintroduce ourselves. Having been together every Monday to knit with the church ladies, to being separated because our parents found better job opportunities in other states, we were left with no choice but to grow into ourselves without the other. But as fate would have it, we have the opportunity to reconnect and learn who we are now— but as adults.

The thing with making friends with your cousins versus making friends with strangers is that, in some way, there is no “getting to know you” phase. Because I’ve always known you. I know your family, I knew your mannerisms as a kid, and for some reason, they haven’t really changed much as an adult. Being friends with your cousins, or even siblings, hell, can be such a cathartic experience to the point where I don’t need many friends. Now I didn’t say that I don’t need friends— because my friends are my chosen family— but if you lucked up in the lineage department, you don’t need many because they will always treat you with the respect and kindness that is often searched for.

I think for a long time I was looking for myself in other people. Looking to see what’s accepted, what’s deemed “cool,” and attempted to build my confidence from there. In reality, it was my family who allowed me to feel most like myself and accepted me for all of my quirks. To hell with those who didn’t get it. And to hell to those who don’t like it. Granted, they taunt and tease, but I understand it isn’t to break me down. Maybe it can come across that way to others, and it definitely isn’t a one-size-fits-all kind of shoe. But there’s a certain balance on the blade when we accept the criticism from family, so we’re prepared when it comes from strangers. To me, that is the true test of trust and vulnerability.

So I’m sitting here, listening to the snow fall and thinking of my drunk night with my cousins as we sang the soundtrack of High School Musical 2. To think we used to be so small. Now we’re adults. Adults who have their own children. Adults who pay their own bills. Adults who are currently crowded upstairs in the bedroom as we enjoy each other’s company, figuring out if we should make snow angels or just stay in bed.

And I can’t help but feel like I’m 6 years old again.

By the way— we chose bed.

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In recent days, I’ve decided that I have no desire to be meek. Being raised with Southern Baptist ideals and foundations had truly ruined my self-esteem and humbled1 me into oblivion. When caught admiring myself, I was told that God would take my beauty away as easily as He gave it to me. That God loved me despite my sexuality and that He would “meet me where I’m at” as if I could not be loved loudly and boldly for all that I encompass. As if God didn’t create me to be such.

I use the reference of God in a deconstructed way— not to refer to God of the Christian Bible who invokes fear into his people, but my God of creation. The God with a sense of humor, the God who encourages sexual liberation and spiritual freedom. The God who isn’t rigid and law-binding. The God who promotes the use of free will, loving ourselves, and smiting those who do us wrong. Not to be hate-filled, but not to fall complicit to violent behavior inflicted upon us and to defend ourselves always.

I understand the egomania of Kanye. Maybe it’s because I’m a Gemini, so I get him. His delivery and actions are incredibly terrible, but we should all strive to be self-centered to a healthy extent. Being shy and humble got me nowhere but disrespected and resentful. To be boastful and prideful in yourself is, in essence, to be boastful and prideful of God. Maybe I’m just late to the party. But there’s a certain light I have witnessed from experiencing people who embrace their raucousness. They possess a warmth that is inviting and encourages you to be the same. Never once have I met a person who knows their talents and their power who encouraged others to stay small.

If anything, they attract those to encourage them to own their muchness and to take up space. People who play it big make room for others who play it big. There’s literal (and figurative) space to do so. People who play it big, who are confident, are people who understand the necessity of others. Through personal experience, being meek or insecure is probably more self-centered and selfish than being boastful about your talents. There are constant comparisons to others, the constant hyper-fixation on whether or not you measure up, and the constant pinpointing of how to be better, which takes away from the enjoyment of the present. It’s a volatile cycle to be in.

God doesn’t want you to play it safe. Safety keeps you contained, and all I can imagine is sitting in one of those white rooms with nowhere to go. You’ll eventually be driven mad— angry, or insane, take your pick. To be dangerous, full of risk, is the ultimate level of faith, as it creates a new foundation built on vulnerability between you and your Spirit guides. To be vulnerable encourages you to be dangerous, which builds your confidence and reignites your self-belief. We must continue to be loud about our talents, to be loud about our visions, to be loud about our faith in ourselves. Not just individually but communally as well.

Owning my muchness has allowed me to attract so much more than I could ever have imagined. I have attracted good people, kind acts of service, and ideas that are much bigger than I ever could have imagined them to be. Playing it humble never once got me the level of respect from others that I have given myself after owning how much I desire. How much I am. I often think, if we are made in the image of God, and if God was daring enough to create me, shouldn’t I be loud about it?

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Speaking for myself, I have felt incredibly giddy and, honestly, a bit like Harley Quinn mentally. Don’t test me—I could explode. But we will have a good laugh in the meantime while we wait for the countdown towards the implosion.

As we transition from December to January, we’re rolling into the new year. This holiday season was very different from past ones. I have spent more time being present as a family member— both for my blood and chosen family— than I have in previous years. I don’t know why; it could be a strange coincidence, but many of my loved ones have experienced the death of a family member. I have a very limited understanding of grieving a loved one, having lost my matriarch sometime last summer; I hadn’t known what it meant to lose someone of importance until recently (and even those feelings are still unprocessed). As I crossed state lines to provide physical comfort during the early stages of grief, I found myself healing at the same time. In those silent moments when you don’t know what to say, but you have the desire to say something to bring a moment of joy, there is a strengthening of the relationship you share. An understanding that our time is limited and that it is uncertain whether we will wake up tomorrow or not. So why not make the most of it?

I believe when we grieve people who have transitioned to the Spirit realm, we are also grieving parts of ourselves. Anyone who remains close with us mirrors some aspects of our inner world, and to lose them physically changes something within you. There is a materialization of that trait, that spunk, that persona, that, through memory, becomes a permanent embodiment of their soul that intertwines with yours. It creates this confidence and rebirth within you. It may not be noticeable right away. It may take a few months or even a few years, but what you loved most about that person becomes a part of you until the day you die.

I think 2025 was a year of death, and December was the beginning stages of the rebirth. If you’re anything like me and celebrate the New Year during the Spring Equinox, then this last December was the Climax of the story, where you must now keep pushing to the resolution. And death may not be literal— you didn’t have to bury someone in a casket to let go and let things be. 2025 was relatively painful but beautifully so. With pain comes so much joy, and in this upcoming year, I hope that we reap what we’ve sown from the turmoil. Just make sure you embrace it, and don’t go at it alone if you can help it.

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I initially wanted to write this post about “fast women”. Women who are promiscuous and daring. Women who actively please themselves— physically and emotionally. Fast women possess a specific form of freedom that is spiritually liberating. As if there’s a burst of rays beaming from their chest and lighting up the room as they twirl and sway to the music, arms wide open and head swung back. They are joyous.

I was watching the 1976 version of Sparkle starring Irene Cara with the women in my family. My mother, her mother, my sister, and our cousin. Gosh, how I love that movie. Sparkle’s oldest sister, Sister, was always my favorite. She didn’t dare shelter herself in a world that refused to filter itself for others. She encouraged her younger sisters to explore their desires as long as they were willing to face the consequences of what may come. She didn’t steal the spotlight either; she just knew what got the crowd going and embraced the authenticity that came with performing. Sure, she chased a more synthetic high after the initial stardom wore down— falling down a path of drugs and bad relationships, but she still held to her values. Even if it costs her her life.

That’s what had me consider the complexities of promiscuity. Everything is nuanced. Promiscuity and “being fast” are always deemed inappropriate and carry a negative connotation. But the movie Sparkle does a beautiful job at showcasing how promiscuity, if carefully done, can be emboldening rather than detrimental.

The middle sister, Delores, seemed to resent her sisters’ man-catching ways and focused solely on getting out of New York. Of course, she sings with her sister, but she isn’t liked by many. She’s very skeptical of men, rarely seen getting their attention (What I originally chopped up to colorism, as she’s the only dark skinned sister), but also rejecting them when attention is given to her. There is very little shown of Delores without her sisters, except for when she tries to save her sister’s life by setting up her abusive boyfriend. Her final monologue was given to her mother about wanting more for her life. She didn’t care to be a professional singer. She didn’t want to be lusted after. She wanted to be respected and seen for who she was. Which is honorable, she also never hid herself and her true feelings, but until she left her family, she wasn’t truly able to set herself free.

While one sister flew too close to the sun, and one struggled to jump off the porch, we are left with Sparkle. The youngest, most family-oriented, yet yearned to be seen and be as free as Sister. She cherished Sister’s advice and snuck around with her boyfriend Stix, who not only respected her but also saw something she never saw in herself. As she complied and moved through life, the death of her sister left a mark of maturity that encouraged her to not give a damn ever again. The show ends with Sparkle taking control of her own career as a singer. Stealing the stage with her voice and allowing herself to let go and be seen.

I always loved Sparkle. If it taught me anything, it taught me not to give a damn. But there’s something about watching a movie of sisterhood, romance, and self-liberation with the women in your family that reminds you how they are also women of promiscuity, of self-respect, and no-nonsense. Women who push you to be your authentic self— loud-mouthed, daring, and curt. What I loved most about Sparkle was its mirroring of the women in my life (without the drug and physical abuse). These women never held back and hardly cared if it hurt your feelings, if it was the truth. I know as children we can find it to be hurtful and a bit disparaging, but it’s real. And it is respected. There’s a way to be tactful in showing your consideration by being blunt.

Be ye be bold, blunt, daring, and fast!

Are you ready?

Are you sure you’re ready?

I enjoy the benefits of gentrification.

To an extent, okay?

I enjoy having access to my PureBarre classes and acai bowl immediately after, all within a fifteen-minute walk from my apartment. I really do. The thing is, I don’t feel comfortable knowing that this leisure comes at the cost of pushing out native residents of a [insert a random city name here]. Oftentimes, these residents are Black people and other people of color who face the brunt of this exile. This redevelopment of Black populated areas is typically referred to as “urban renewal”, a component of environmental racism where the city is focused on the remodeling and replacement of old buildings, homes, and neighborhoods. It isn’t just large metropolitan cities that are experiencing this. No, smaller towns are widening their city limits and pushing out their residents. What’s in place of these communities? A Trader Joe’s? “Luxury” apartments with a rat infestation? Or a series of shopping centers that attract people of a higher income while the decreasing middle class is rebuffed? Sure, it sounds nice, but is it really worth it if we cannot afford it?

One of my favorite geographers, Jane Jacobs, wrote about these dangers in The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961). An activist and journalist, Jacobs influenced urban design through her theories and writings on the harms of Urban Renewal for marginalized communities and its impact on community engagement. She once advised–and this is not verbatim– that every day, people must go out into their neighborhood and see what it is their community needs. To look at the homes, the stores surrounding them, and compare them to other neighborhoods. Where are the playgrounds? How close are the liquor and tobacco stores in comparison to the grocery stores? What is at the grocery store? Is there an influx of light or air pollution? Are there sidewalks? These are the questions to consider when determining what could be done to improve your neighborhood and the quality of life for its residents. Not wondering how a city can strengthen its economic value through the demolition of citizens and deforestation, but rather utilizing its community and ensuring those in it are thriving.

That’s why I respect Hazel M. Johnson so deeply. Known as the “Mother of Environmental Justice”, Hazel drew on her personal experiences living on the South Side of Chicago to create educational and improvement opportunities for herself and her neighbors, primarily in the 1970s and 1980s. As a young woman, Hazel found that her neighborhood was built on a toxic waste landfill that contributed to several health issues, such as high rates of cancer, foul smells, asbestos, and high respiratory issues in children. The quality of water and air was significantly poor as it was contaminated with pollutants from the landfill. Hazel lost not only her husband, but also plenty of neighbors and close friends due to the horrendous conditions the Altgeld Gardens community endured. Due to the neighborhood’s living conditions and its impact on residents, Johnson was led to establish the People for Community Recovery in 1979.

During its first seven years, PCR assisted in the formation of Citizens United to Reclaim the Environment (CURE), a coalition of five grassroots organizations in southeast Chicago. CURE would conduct protests to bring about change, like physically using their bodies to block entrances to landfills, even if it led to being arrested. Or they would lobby for environmental justice in adjacent neighborhoods to ensure the safety of Black residents. This hard work and dedication led to the creation of Executive Order 12898, “Federal Actions to Address Environmental Justice in Minority Populations and Low-Income Populations.”, allowing Hazel M. Johnson and PCR to be nationally recognized as a top 100 environmental group by President Clinton, making PCR a household name.

The People for Community Recovery continues to fight the good fight for environmental justice through a focused fight for community aid, educational training, economic development, and healthy and affordable housing initiatives. PCR is one of many grassroots organizations that focus on the well-being of Black populated areas, and its work has inspired many more to uplift and continue to build their homes to ensure a healthy and sustainable environment.

Even with Johnson’s success in environmental activism, Black women make up less than 3% of the field; with environmentalism being a white dominated field, it is imperative that the work that is being done for communities of color—and the Earth— must be reflective in its stewards. In the United States, people of color are 28% more likely to have higher health risks due to environmental conditions. Meanwhile, Black people at large are 54% more at risk in comparison to the general population, according to a 2018 report from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).

If Black people make up over half of the whole who are impacted, yet are underrepresented in ensuring their safety, who are the ones dedicating the time to do so? And if so, what are they doing, and where are they?

Who is in the field currently, and what are they doing?

The following section is an interview with three Black women environmentalists, their work, their educational pursuits, and their experience so far in the field of environmental justice.

Inspired by her father and his background in physics, Alana Petifer pursued a career in environmental science due to its connection and regard to human life. She is an alumna of both North Carolina Central University and Georgetown University as a member of the inaugural cohort for the Master’s degree in Environment and International Affairs. Alana currently works in the environmental justice advocacy space and is passionate about developing inclusive, sustainable practices in all areas of life, from fashion to policy.

Our second environmentalist is Loren Caldwell. Loren often saw her mother’s passion for the environment through acts such as recycling, protecting the grass to reduce erosion, and being as sustainable as possible. Moments such as these are what she carries in her personal life and work to push for equity, awareness, and real change. She obtained her Master’s in Global Studies from UNC Chapel Hill, where her research focused on Afro-Panamanian resistance to environmental racism, particularly regarding waste.

Lawren Caldwell is an environmentalist who recently graduated from North Carolina A&T State University. Her master’s thesis, “An Analysis of Pro-Environmental Behaviors as Held by Undergraduate Members of Black Greek-Letter Organizations,” demonstrates her interest in understanding how communities address environmental challenges. As an undergraduate research assistant, she investigated issues such as food insecurity, health inequities, and environmental justice, which inspired her dedication to community health and environmental equity. She eventually worked with the North Carolina Black Alliance as an Environmental Justice fellow, where she saw the effectiveness of a grassroots organization. Now, Lawren is an agriculture education teacher, increasing representation in agricultural spaces and advocating for low-income minority communities to ensure fair treatment and meaningful participation in environmental decision-making.

What first inspired you to pursue a career in environmental science?

AP: Science was always my favorite subject in school, and earth science was one of the most interesting subjects to me because I thought it was the most important regarding human life.

LoC: I stumbled upon the environmental science field accidentally. While I have always had a passion for environmental protection, initially due to my mother’s interest in sustainability, I did not consider the field until my senior year of college. I came across an internship working for a climate resilience and conservation non-profit in Asheville, North Carolina, that solidified my interest. That summer changed my life and affirmed my desire to care for our planet in some manner.

LaC: Growing up in the south, I’ve always felt connected to my environment. I loved to be outside and embrace my surroundings; it made me feel grounded. I also had an appreciation for holistic wellness, which made me want to become more knowledgeable about the benefits of our resources. Naturally, I took an interest in the environmental sciences and decided to further my understanding of natural resources and how people impact the environment.

What were your educational pursuits like?

AP: I was fortunate enough to have been in a dual enrollment program in high school, and because I was taking college classes, I chose my major. I met someone who would eventually become my department chair and advisor while I was in high school. Building a connection with professors helped me greatly, especially because our department was so small. Going into a master’s program was a big transition, but I was able to connect with people from different backgrounds, which helped me flourish.

LoC: I pursued a BA in International Studies and Spanish with a minor in Women and Gender Studies. Recently, I earned a Master’s in Global Studies. I chose these fields because they are broad and interdisciplinary. I was able to pursue my interests in topics such as environmental racism and climate change while also focusing on international displacement and women’s issues that are impacted by the environment.

LaC: Attending North Carolina A&T shaped my interests and helped me discover my passion for environmentalism. Working as an undergraduate research assistant, I discovered topics like food insecurity, health disparities, environmental justice, and more. It sparked my interest in community health and environmental equity. After discovering my interest in environmentalism, I worked for the National Wildlife Federation that following summer and saw the impact of grassroots organizing. Ever since, I’ve made it my mission to educate and advocate for low-income minority communities to promote fair treatment and community involvement in environmental decision-making.

What has your experience been like navigating a field where Black women are often underrepresented?

AP: I’m fortunate enough to have a very positive experience, coming from a HBCU I was surrounded with black women in STEM which helped me build my confidence and they were able to help me build my confidence. When I transitioned to graduate school, I was one of two Black women in my program, but I was able to stay confident in my abilities and knowledge. A lot of young black women experience imposter syndrome and or feel like they’re not enough, but stay vigilant and confident that you are needed in these spaces and you are enough.

LoC: Truthfully, I have found it challenging to navigate a field and spaces where I am often underrepresented. To deal with the uncomfortable feelings that may arise from this experience, I am always transparent with my supervisors about the lack of diversity and ensure that I find community with other Black women outside of these spaces.

LaC: At A&T, the Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Design is housed within the College of Agriculture, and agriculture is a very white-male career field. Black farmers make up about 1 percent of the current grower population. Agricultural spaces are harder for me to navigate as a young black woman. Some people may treat you as if you are undeserving or as if you don’t belong. My personal experience has been navigating unconscious bias and microaggressive behaviors from my colleagues. It can be very challenging, and I often feel misunderstood, but I have to remember that I am in these spaces for a reason and I am doing the work I was called to do. I have to work hard not to allow how I’m treated to become my reality or a reflection of how I view myself.

What accomplishment are you most proud of in your career so far?

AP: At this moment in time, it is that I’m completing my Master’s degree in Environment and International Affairs. I was a part of the inaugural cohort for this degree at Georgetown University, and I get to be a part of setting the standard of what alumni from this program can and will do.

LoC: Thus far, I am most proud of my research during graduate school that culminated in my thesis: “Afro-Panamanian Placemaking and Resistance at the Site of Racialized Waste Geographies.” I put forth a lot of effort to ensure that my work was thorough, including visiting Panama to witness what I purported to be true. Defending my thesis, along with graduating in May 2025, are two of my proudest moments.

How has your work shaped your personal relationship with the environment?

AP: I currently work in the activism and non-profit space, and it’s shaped my experience because working with science can be straightforward, but working in communities can be challenging. What I have learned overall is that every individual and community has a unique relationship with the environment. Some are engaged and aware of that relationship, and others are not engaged, but it doesn’t change that the human-environment relationship is important.

LoC: My work has solidified my personal care for the environment. It is extremely difficult to research the harms to our planet while actively contributing to that harm. I have been an “eco-minimalist” for about six years and will continue to mitigate the harm I cause to the environment.

How do you balance bringing your full identity into your work in spaces that may not always feel welcoming?

AP: If I don’t feel like my identity is welcome, I still look for opportunities to represent myself authentically, and I don’t give up on being myself.

LoC: I decided about four years ago, during my first jo,b that I would show up in every space authentically. I strive not to code-switch, while keeping things appropriate, of course. I do this for my own sanity. It is difficult to turn yourself off every single day; I imagine that can’t be healthy for your psyche. Instead, I choose to be myself, acknowledging that I cannot control the reaction that may come as a result.

What changes would you like to see institutions and organizations make to better support Black women in the field?

AP: I would like them to honor and defend black women in the same way they are trying to honor and defend the environment. How we engage with each other reflects how we engage with the environment, and in a world of sexism, racism, and overall dehumanization, it’s no wonder that our environment is in danger.

LoC: I am a fan of diverse required reading. It would be beneficial if institutions and organizations encouraged reading about Black women in environmental science and/or how environmental science can better support Black communities. This would ensure that there is an understanding of Black women in the field, which can lead to enhanced support.

How do you envision the future of the environmental science industry for women of color?

LoC: I envision the future of the environmental science industry as a place where women of color are no longer viewed as minorities or the exceptions to the rule. I hope that one day, women of color will be viewed as a natural and beneficial addition to the environmental science field.

These women profoundly stated the importance of their role as Black women in the environmental justice sector. What struck me most was the fearlessness to be audacious while occupying the spaces they are in. In a world where Black women and their communities are under attack, it is vital not to minimize your abilities and presence; if anything, now is the perfect time to carry the audacity at the same level as the oppressor. Under the current Trump Administration, Black women have experienced the brunt of the federal layoffs as a result of the removal of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) policies, restricting most people’s access to health care and economic stability. In addition, environmental programs and policies have been removed, like the Paris Climate Accord1, enabling a laissez-faire government, and creating higher health risks for Black people, especially. African Americans are 75% more likely than other minority groups to live near hazardous waste facilities. In states like Pennsylvania, where 38% of Black Americans live within a county where there are oil and gas refineries, the removal of environmental policies and elimination of environmentalists (at all levels) increases health issues like asthma, for example, and increases the mortality rates nationwide, increasing the premature deaths of Black Americans.

The combination of policy rollbacks and the reduction of Black employees not only strengthens discrimination in the workplace but also weakens representation for the underserved and puts their health at risk! It is up to us to stand up and put our best interest forward and create solutions during a time where it feels the options to survive are slim to none.

One person who is getting their hands dirty is Ariel Mial, a North Carolina Central University alumna, Environmental Engineer Tech, and the founder of Black Soil. Black Soil is an environmental platform and guide to live a more sustainable lifestyle. Black Soil intends to guide and educate communities of color about environmental problems and sustainable practices as a solution to combat the racist system and to increase communal support. Beginning in May of 2023, Mial has dedicated the last two and a half years to encouraging minority voices by hosting in-person events and social media campaigns to connect with her community both physically and digitally (the Instagram is @BlackSoil.am). From park clean-ups to creating affordable and sustainable shopping lists, Ariel has shown that immersing your hands in black soil not only strengthens our community but can restore the environment that we cherish and love while opening our minds to a sustainable way of living.

No action is too small, and nothing of greatness happens overnight. Through time, intention, and collective effort, we can strive for greatness. Working to combat and provide support for marginalized groups does not always have to result in working within the government system. Creating art, grassroots organizations, within education, or simply providing for a neighbor does significant damage. Do not wait for someone to give you back your power when you never permitted them to steal it. So, I leave you with this: how are you going to reclaim your spot in the world? And is the overpriced iced coffee really worth it?

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Resources

Beaudouin, W. (2025, August 18). Trump’s Agenda Is a Direct Threat to the Black Middle Class. Center for American Progress. https://www.americanprogress.org/article/trumps-agenda-is-a-direct-threat-to-the-black-middle-class/

Beth. (2018, October 6). Hazel M. Johnson, “Mother of the Environmental Justice Movement.” Www.chipublib.org. https://www.chipublib.org/blogs/post/hazel-m-johnson-mother-of-the-environmental-justice-movement/

Cole, C. (2025, September 29). Why are so many Black women losing their jobs? An expert blames three factors. Cbsnews.com. https://www.cbsnews.com/boston/news/black-women-unemployment-rate/

Cornelius, J. (2020, July 20). The Racist Placement of Power Plants in Pennsylvania. Climate-XChange. https://climate-xchange.org/2020/07/the-racist-placement-of-power-plants-in-pennsylvania/

Fernandez, M. (2024, October). What Project 2025 Means for Black Communities: Environmental Justice. The Thurgood Marshall Institute at LDF. https://tminstituteldf.org/environment-project-2025/

Frye, J. (2025, August 19). 5 Ways the Trump Administration is Eroding the Economic Stability of Black Women and the Pathways Used by Black Workers to Move Into the Middle Class | National Partnership for Women & Families. National Partnership for Women & Families. https://nationalpartnership.org/5-ways-trump-administration-eroding-economic-stability-black-women-pathways-middle-class/

Nast, C. (2022, April 22). All My Environmental Heroes Are Black Women. Vogue. https://www.vogue.com/article/all-my-environmental-heroes-are-black-women

Priority Programs - People for Community Recovery. (2021). People for Community Recovery. https://www.peopleforcommunityrecovery.org/our-work/priority-programs

The Climate Reality Project. (n.d.). Environmental racism. The Climate Reality Project. https://www.climaterealityproject.org/environmental-racism

Ukenye, J. (2021, July 7). https://www.pennfuture.org/Blog-Item-More-than-Skin-Deep-Environmental-Racism-Justice-and-Pennsylvania. Www.pennfuture.org. https://www.pennfuture.org/Blog-Item-More-than-Skin-Deep-Environmental-Racism-Justice-and-Pennsylvania

Villarosa, L. (2020, July 30). Pollution Is Killing Black Americans. This Community Fought Back. New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/28/magazine/pollution-philadelphia-black-americans.html

I’m unsure the statistics of people who fall into life rather than pursue each step intentionally, but I know I definitely wasn’t a part of the latter. I have been pleased with my life so far, but truthfully, things have just happened for me. I can count on one hand what I have pursued out of desire rather than out of convenience. I am tired of coasting; it is time to take charge of my life and actively be the woman I’ve always envisioned myself to be, rather than hold myself high to incredible standards. And first, that means I must quit my job.

Sorry Bush, I’ve left the children behind

As the eldest daughter, taking care of children is almost second nature for me. I have been babysitting and “big sistering” for as long as I can remember, why wouldn’t I find comfort in empowering the future of tomorrow? It was an easy decision to pursue education, yet it was extremely difficult to leave. Working with children can be so rewarding filled with so much joy and lightheartedness. But without the proper boundaries, it can become so draining and overstimulating. The physical and mental fatigue that I have accumulated over the last four years was and is not worth my being.

The kids these days are different— they are impressively defiant and almost apathetic at such a young age. Add roughly thirty children run around a classroom, screaming and crying1, I realized this is not how I want to spend my time. At least not right now. I just did not want to be important at work and wanted the time to truly figure out what career I actually want.

So, I left halfway through the first semester and became a housekeeper. It is an incredibly quiet job. You’re left to yourself and aren’t required to interact with too many people unless necessary. It is meditative as it doesn’t require me to use my brain as intensely, and I utilise my body more frequently. A drastic jump from such a loud environment, I’m able to process information more clearly without the feeling of immediate pressure. But it’s only been a week, and my body already feels more relaxed, calmer, and I am allowing myself to think thoughts and feelings through. I am allowing myself to feel and release.

Don’t get it twisted, I am not sure what career or direction I’m headed in. Not yet. This is not the end of the road for my career but simply making room for what is to come. Consider this: what would your life look like if you took a detour and provided life to flow through? In your career, your academic life, with your friendships and personal growth? In academia they call this a gap year. A year dedicated to finding yourself and your passions. Some backpack, some work, some paint and create art. The purpose of the gap year is to propel yourself forward, love on yourself and reinvent what you thought was imaginable for yourself. Total Eat, Pray, Love vibes. So, what is it that you’re imagining for yourself? And how what are you willing to let go of in order to reach it?

Hiding in Plain Sight

Sometimes that gap year requires isolating oneself. Not in totality to where you’re hidden from the world, but more so hidden and content with just yourself. In the day and age where consistent presence on social media is a vital sign of how one is doing in life; it is okay to take a break from the constant need to perform and reassure others of your presence. It will be felt when the time comes, but if you are constantly having to make yourself available for others, at what point will you be available to yourself?

This is not to say to stop showing up for those around you. No, never. But I do mean to show up more for yourself, in order to discover who it is that you are. Some things never change, but we are constantly evolving, and our taste is always improving. The hermit does not concern itself with the opinions of others because often they drown out the inner voice that is helping one discern the route to take. Involving others into my life and thought process has limited my full potential as others have taken that vulnerability moment to become a judge and jury. It isn’t necessary and sometimes some just need a soundboard. But I guess that’s where building a strong sense of spiritual practice ties in. I believe connection and true intimacy requires vulnerable moments of uncomfortable truths, but I have noticed it has been used for a moment of projection. Even I fall for the trap at times.

There is something truly ethereal in building a relationship with yourself. Something spiritual and otherworldly. Spending time with yourself and prioritizing that over time builds a new foundation and respect for yourself. If you’re anything like me, surrounding yourself with others or creating a to do list can be a great distraction to unearthing the uncomfortable parts of ourselves. Its transformative and nonlinear. That isolation gives you the space to hear yourself be the loudest you can be without the outside noise.

I do hope to expand and become a more tasteful woman throughout this gap year. A woman who is slow to speak but never afraid to either. A woman of many talents and full of laughter. I also want to lean in the awkward moments and imperfect parts of myself. The gap year transformation is one to enjoy. How will you be spending the next year? With fruitful anticipation or with dread of what once was? What has prevented you from truly delving deep, and in what ways have you felt the most fulfilled with yourself?

What have you done in the last year? Where were you? Physically, emotionally, Spiritually? If there is anything this last year has taught me, it is to move. Move on from what was once before— and sure, that is common knowledge. But if you’re a hoarder like me, it is more difficult to let go of the past than to enjoy the present. Reminiscing on the fun moments and exciting memories of life that sound impossible when you’re sharing with those who are meeting you for the first time. I blame the Cancer Venus.

Experiencing arrested development at the most current stage of your life is truly annoying. Imagine, you have accomplished so much and the drive just…. dissipates. Where do you find motivation and inspiration that has nothing to do with other people?1 And I don’t mean to do things in spite of people, or to be better or have done better than those who came before you in the name of “legacy”… but simply for the enjoyment and pure fulfillment? I have yet to find something that fulfills me that hasn’t equally terrified me.

When you’re in a stand still there are so many creative ideas flowing to you that it can be overwhelming. I don’t want my ideas to go to Prince2 if I don’t act on them, but there is a fear that paralyzes your being when you’ve lost that faith and trust within yourself. And I know that is the point of it all. To do things scared, to do things raw and completely vulnerable.

This last year has been the most reserved and closed off I have been, ever. Yet I am equally vulnerable and am begging to be let free. As if I have been reborn, the greatest gift God has ever given me is time, and not many people have that. A year goes by so quickly, I can hardly believe I spent it so secluded and disheartened. But things change and it is time to move.

This is just a random blurb of thoughts that have been occupying a greater part of my mind. Moving forward Confessions of the Eldest Daughter will become a bi-weekly newsletter as I continue to build. Thank you for tuning in and being apart of the vulnerable blog posts that are here to come.

The American Spirit has been lost. The Spirit of anger, of disgust, and faith in one's ability has been lost amongst the citizens of the United States. Growing up in Pennsylvania during my formative years inspired a childlike wonder for my relationship with History. I had the luxury of being able to visit historical landmarks such as Betsy Ross’ home, President James Buchannan’s Wheatland, and the battleground of Gettysburg. Having field trips such as these placed me into a physical reality that showed me how the United States was cultivated from the energy of perseverance and pure radical imagination.

Think about it⸺the story is quite inspiring. You have these 13 states that were frustrated with being ruled by a King that lives in another country. Having to abide by his laws, and his taxes without any understanding of the conditions in which they live, the British colonies then choose to revolt and fight against their oppressor… and then they win? The values that are seemingly etched into the Declaration of Independence are those of protection, fellowship and love, and unity despite the differences that make us. As a child who often felt as if she was underestimated, the origin story of American Independence inspired me—yet, what I didn’t understand was that this communal belief was for the white man, and it was never designed for women like me, despite feeling resonate with the ideology of “American independence”. To think that a Black, dark skin woman could have been considered during the signage of the Declaration of Independence? It’s incredulous to think that a country whose policemen beat and murder Black bodies at an alarming rate, would ever pledge its allegiance to you.

In 2013, when George Zimmerman wasn’t found guilty for the murder of Trayvon Martin, my innocent view of the United States judicial system was dismantled and my trust and judgement began to falter. At fourteen years old I stood around the television with my family: my brothers, my sister, my parents, and then boyfriend. I was so certain that Zimmerman would have been found guilty. The evidence was so clear, the audio recording, witnesses, even the police reports pointed towards Zimmerman unlawfully killing an unarmed Black boy… but he was found not guilty. Running out of the door, I grew angry and fought tears. Listening to my father mumble about the idiocy of the jury, my mother pulled all of the children outside and gave us the talk about the truth of being Black in America. Although heard before, this conversation ushered me into the early stages of womanhood. And while I grew into my womanhood, I’ve found that I am in a constant state of grief. Constantly grieving the Black bodies who died at the hands of white people and white systems allowed me to grieve a part of my childhood, my naivete, and innocence. After Trayvon’s death, President Obama worked hard to tackle gun violence, meanwhile the death of Black bodies was still an issue via the American Police system. People like Trayvon Martin, Sandra Bland, and Breonna Taylor showed me that it could always be me at the end of the barrel. Grieving their lives was like grieving parts of myself that no longer existed because the American idealism I was taught was chippering away with every murder. That grief slowly turned into anger, as change was slow to see. But the anger never subsided, and I never moved to the later stages.

My disdain for the United States’ current economical and political condition

There are five stages of grief:

1. Denial

2. Anger

3. Bargaining

4. Depression

5. Acceptance

I would like to preface by saying that for me, in relation to the grieving of the United States and myself, bargaining and anger are interchangeable, and at the very least depression appears in the guise of anger.

Initial denial during the AR can be thought back to the ignoring of the Sugar Act, having tight controls on taxes via imports of goods silently went unnoticed or at best, unquestioned and tolerated by many and soon was followed by the Stamp Act. The Stamp Act (1765) restricted colonists by imposing higher taxes on printed media in efforts to restrict the colonists from reading essays of angered people. It was not until the Quartering Acts where citizens grew tiresome and acted upon their anger due to the forcing of British soldiers into their homes to help the British save money.

In connection to today, there are parallels of the restrictions that mirror those of the American Revolution. One of the Trump Administration's first enactments was the increase of tariffs towards foreign imports. An increase of 10% that costs the average American household roughly between $1,700 and $ 2,350 each year. This agreement has not only put a strain on relationships between the United States and other countries, but between citizens and their wallets as there are reported concerns about the rise of inflation due to Trump's new tariff plan that went into effect August 7th of this year (CNN).

As the pricing of our clothes and other imports are on the rise, so are streaming services and the price of enjoyment. As digital media has replaced physical media for many, streaming services are currently being repackaged into basic cable through corporate greed from places like Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney+, and Paramount+ to name a few. The appeal of streaming services was the uninterrupted consumption due to the elimination of ads, however, every streaming service now has ads, and provides staggered pricing in order to get rid of the commercials and allowing access to certain shows and movies (I’m looking at you Netflix). Aside from the consistent raise in prices, platforms are merging as well. Hulu has been bought by Disney, and the platform will be dissolved sometime in 2026 while still being a “stand alone” service on the app. Paramount+ has also merged with Skydance recently, and has seen cuts to notorious shows such as “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert”. Colbert has been a consistent critic of President Donald Trump and has stated that the cutting of his show was retaliation after the network was sued by the administration during Trump’s campaign. The merging of platforms, increase in subscriptions, and removal of long running talk shows can be viewed as a form of censorship in addition to the taxation without representation.

To make matters worse, the final parallel of the AR is that of the Quartering Act. Although there have not been orders for soldiers to live in our homes, the government is asking for our money outside of tax season! Thanks to the “Big, Beautiful Bill”, the national debt has soared and the White House has now allowed people to donate via Venmo to lower the national debt, as if people aren’t living paycheck to paycheck. In trying to make sense of it all, it just does not make sense.

I’m unsure what side of TikTok you may be on, dear reader, but where I currently reside, there are mixtures of complaints, showcasing the anger and frustration of American citizens. While some are bargaining and hoping that something grand will happen, others are wondering how exactly we can put a stop to this fascist regime.

How did our predecessors survive before capitalism and through trying times of capitalistic greed?

In the face of oppression, it is important to look through history and understand what has been done to fight the good fight, learn from the actions of those before us, and apply it to our current predicament. Revolution is not an individual act but rather a communal effort. Community is an intentional act of service. Service can look different to many: you can organize events for the benefit of others, you can engage with people who live on your block and help them in small ways that matter, and there’s working at large through careers like education. In order to be of service for grander ideas, there must be a clear plan of understanding who/what you are fighting against, what you are willing to say yes to, and what is the end goal for future generations, if your service is to them?

Women such as Ida B. Wells is a prime example of a steward of the community who risked her life for the betterment of others. As one of the founders of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), Wells was also an investigative journalist who reported the horrors and truths of lynching and racial hate crimes in the deep south. Other organizers such as The Black Panther Party organized nationwide to foster care and school lunches to Black and Brown / low-income communities while also fighting local governments and police brutality through the right to bear arms. Organizers such as Bayard Rustin, Fannie Lou Hamer, and Daisy Bates organized and fought for Civil Rights, desegregation, and racial equity through their writings, speeches, and engaging with their neighbors to better understand what and how to advocate when meeting with public officials.

We have learned how to get the government's attention: through acts of violence and protests. It worked against the British, and nearly worked during COVID for the George Floyd protests. We’ve seen tensions high and solidarity through the militaristic tactics of the Black Panther Party. So, why wasn’t it enough for consistent change? Frankly, I believe it is due to government intimidation. Somewhere along the way, through the mustard gas, attack dogs, hosing, and assassinations of rebellious leaders like MLK and Malcolm X, it is clear to understand why folk are afraid of taking their protest and anger past the phone screen. If you kill enough people, no one will step up to face the odds of martyrdom. They’ve become complacent and comfortable within the chaos. However, we cannot remain complacent in dire times. Organizations such as Movement for Black Lives is an abolitionist group that has a clear message, engages with the nation through zoom meetings, internships, and virtual events. There are organizers who not only take to social media, but the streets as well in their protests and how they engage around them. One of my favorites being Delaney Vandergrift. Below is a screenshot from her X account discussing the importance of knowing what to say yes to when fighting against authoritarian rule.

I love the United States greatly, which is why I want it to fail. The initial purposes and beliefs are what make this nation so unique and admirable. It is not lost on me that this nation was founded on the backs of slaves and through the death of indigenous people, yet I do believe it is our right as people who reside here to advocate for ourselves, to have a say in where our tax dollars are going (i.e. to not fund multiple genocides while the price of eggs continue to increase), and to not be murdered for having a voice. I was recently speaking with a loved one of mine, about the future and the present. What is it that Americans are willing to say “yes” to? The damage of late stage Capitalism is irreparable and very unlikely to be undone with the signage of a bill. However, when the American people step away from their screens and face the wind, what are they willing to sacrifice in the name of peace and community? Where will the division lay? Again, we find ourselves experiencing the early stages of an authoritarian regime that was once fought against and won. If the United States were to fall, and its people rose against the leaders, will the “American Spirit” be reclaimed and renewed? Creating a dream come true for many or enduring the hazy nightmare we currently face? And lastly, what will be the tip of the iceberg?

Resources:

1. Home - M4BL

2. The Coercive (Intolerable) Acts of 1774 | George Washington's Mount Vernon

3. Intolerable Acts | 1774, Definition, Summary, Significance, & Facts | Britannica

4. Third Amendment History: How British Soldiers in Colonial Homes Sparked Revolution | GovFacts

5. The Quartering Act | American Battlefield Trust

6. Quartering Acts of 1765 and 1774 | Summary, Facts, Reaction - AmericanRevolution.org

7. Depression Symptoms Can Include Anger, And That's Often Misunderstood : Shots - Health News : NPR

8. Paramount and Skydance close their $8 billion merger, kicking off reign of new entertainment giant | AP News

9. Skydance Closes $8 Billion Merger With Paramount

10. US Treasury now accepts Venmo and PayPal donations to reduce the $36.7 trillion national debt

11. Is Hulu shutting down? What to know about new Disney+ changes

12. Streaming service price increases: the latest on Netflix, Disney Plus, Max, Hulu, and more | The Verge

13. Trump just revealed his new tariff plan. Here’s what you need to know | CNN Business

14. Trump's Agenda: Tariffs - FactCheck.org

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Matriarch – Hulis Mavruk

Song of Choice: Love and Happiness x Al Green

The loss of a family member is hardly ever easy. The loss of the Matriarch is devastating. There’s something poetic about having a funeral for her during the Cancer New Moon.

My great grandmother transitioned on Juneteenth, a fitting departure date for a woman who lived such a grand and free life. Very few to have the ability to say that they have met their great grandparents; I was grateful to have known her for twenty-six years. I also have not had any significant passings within my family that brought me to experience grief to the capacity to which I have over the last few weeks. However, the last few weeks have taught me plenty about who she was and the legacy she built that defined her as the Matriarch.

I cannot believe that it has been nearly a month since her passing. The loss was a tough one for us all. As I remember her smile as she lay beautifully tucked away, I can’t help but think about how there is a naivete that dissipates when you are able to witness the body in the casket. A certain sting and uneasiness knowing that this is the last time I will ever see their body. A heaviness began to creep up within my chest. As if the pain of a new wound welled up and leaving you feeling completely empty inside.

Preparing for the funeral consists of coming together and sharing food, memories, laughter, and tears. The children are dividing the assets and reviewing the will, creating the show and honoring their mother in the best way possible. As the week leading up to the funeral, and if you’re lucky, weeks leading up to their passing, can be an intense time. Family drama may arise as the one person who was able to resolve situations between you and your sister is now gone. Or how do you now navigate seeing that family member who did you wrong so many years ago? You sit around the table and laugh and sip your whiskey and you wonder— what secrets were buried with her? How do we relearn each other and move forward? The thing about funerals is that while yes, we all are here to celebrate the life of the deceased, there are a lot of feelings and memories brought to the surface. Some pleasant, some not so much. Family members I haven’t seen since I was a wee child showed face. People I had never even heard of or bothered to acknowledge made way all for the same purpose: to celebrate her life.

As I sat in the family section of the church, I was amazed to see the crowd she drew in. I hadn’t seen the pews that full since Easter Sunday, and God knows that will probably be the last time until the next holiday. At the funeral I was nervous, confused, inspired, and resentful all the same. And I wish I was able to have had more time with her and to have heard more stories. Learning about how impactful a loved one was not only to family, but to impact people outside as well was living proof of what a Matriarch truly means: and that is the backbone of the community.

A Matriarch is someone who is forthright, always aware of others and their actions and emotions, yet someone who cares enough to set them straight at any given moment. It wasn’t to belittle or bring public shame to an individual, but rather to assist in their character development because one cares. So often are we quick to be offended when someone is holding us accountable because we don’t like what we hear. The truth is, when you truly care about someone’s well-being, you don’t give a damn about whether they like what you have to say or not. You say it out of respect of who they are. As long as you’re willing to be compassionate of course. I am not condoning being rude and blunt in the name of being “honest”. I am however stating that in order to care for one another and be in community, we as individuals need to be able to have thick skin and grow from mistakes or decisions we made out of frivolity.

Aside from, a Matriarch knows her neighbors. Knowing our neighbors is an art that is slowly dying as generations grow, and the United States pushes the idealism of individualism and existing for and of one’s own. Matriarchs are mothers to those who do not have any of their own, for whatever that reason may be. Matriarchs remind us of the tough times and the struggles it took to build the foundation in order to maintain a family large enough to invite outsiders into it.

So, what happens when she dies? One can only hope that the family will live on long enough to see the fruits of her labor. We continue to build. We continue to forgive and reconnect and push through. I have noticed a trend recently of withdrawing from family members who are toxic, which I support. But at what point are we isolating ourselves and refusing to make amends that are an easy fix? Our matriarchs would not have wanted that. Not if it is able to be repaired.

Do you know that feeling your body gets when you see the first lightning bug of the season? The dilating of your pupils? The…the lightheadedness caused by an acute amount of blood that rushes to your head? The eureka in place of where your heart should be? The slow, yet enticing feel of pure enjoyment? There is a simple pleasure of the moment that I personally love. The moment is so pure. So serene while being so fleeting.

When was the last time you experienced that? I hate to admit it had been years since I had last seen a lightning bug. At least four.

Four years.

Four years of losing the memory of seeing a firefly in the summertime.

Obviously, I like fireflies. But you must admit— there is a particular magic that they possess. I like being able to sit on the front porch with the moon shining bright above and watching the symphonic lightshow. Each glow representing a new idea being birthed.

Lightning bugs remind me that nothing is too small to require attention. No idea, no person, no thing is too small or unworthy of being pursued.

As kids, we would chase after with glass jars in hopes to never witness the light dim. Or peak within our hands to witness the magic. Sometimes I wonder, “at what point did I stop looking for the magic in my every day?” And others, I ask myself, “why did I stop?”

On Friday, June 20th was the Fourth Annual “United We Heal” Film Festival in Philadelphia, PA. Located at Underground Arts, the festival showcased 11 storytellers whose work is centered around social justice, community issues, and often the ins and outs of Black livelihood. The films were all moving as they brought the audience to tears, laughter, and even the edge of their seat in featured films such as “Flesh & Spirit” by Tiffany Lupien, “Laundry” by Alterik Miller, and “The Love Machine” by Jasmine Lynea1.

This year’s host was Deante’ Kyle of the “Grits and Eggs” Podcast who often infuses humor into his often-candid takes about Black current events, politics, other topics deemed relevant. He was impeccable as a host, who was able to bring the audience to life and conversate easily with the panelists. What was so enticing about the festival was the community that had been built while being there. Creatives of all backgrounds were present— whether it was their first time attending or their fourth— the event was extremely intimate for the sole purpose of coming together, healing, and sharing stories for a better tomorrow.

As any Black celebration, the event was concluded with an after party with special guest DJ Zack Fox. The forerunners however, DJ Jay Jetsin, Brotha Taaj, DJ Jamz, and DJ Reezey all provided sets that got the crowd moving. The infusion of house music, pop, rap, and r&b was emboldening. I mean I had to toss my heels aside as one point and really allow myself to let loose. The power of the DJ is the strength of any party, and as someone who was not drunk, it has been a long time since I was able to just move my feet and body freely.

Which brings me to my point— in times of high political, high financial, and high racial tensions, festivals such as United We Heal reinstates such a revolutionary tactic; that being creativity and movement.

Black creativity and movement have always been about connection: connection to self, connection to others, and connections to Spirit. As previously stated, the eleven films were an effort to connect with the audience to discuss some heavy ish that the average BIPOC experiences as a person in the United States. However, because the topics were so heavy, including an after party was an excellent move as a ritual of release for every member that attended.

Prior to the Middle Passage, dance was utilized as a form of celebration and of making magic2. Dancing was used when a baby was born, to commemorate a marriage, or to call on ancestral support in dire need. After colonization and enslavement, dance has become a form of protest and activism to promote social change. Since dance can evoke and release strong emotions, dance activism is something we all partake in knowingly or unknowingly. United We Heal was able to bring together a community of people, showcase work that highlighted topics of trauma without being traumatic, and selected an insane lineup of DJs to dance our worries away. Below is a video of both Deante’ Kyle and Zack Fox jamming during Zack’s set.

I felt God in that Chili’s that night3 and left feeling inspired and needing to push forward in my creative activism. In a time where the United States is at war not only internationally but within itself, festivals such as United We Heal encourage people to enact change in the small ways that they can. I implore all to attend United We Heal for their 5th annual festival, or support local creatives near you wherever that may be. Whether it is as a film maker, a community participant, or simply as a dj, it is important that we take time to schedule joy and creativity into our everyday lives to produce radical change.

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Admittedly, I froze and panicked. I had given up and withdrew into a shell. Normally I’m the one with a plan. The one who figures things out. Yet something about this moment I just could not handle. It wasn’t like I was without a job and couldn’t find another place to live. The way the housing market in the Bay Area is set up, I would have found a place to stay. Even if I had to share a home with six other people, I would have been fine. But I didn’t want that. Not because I was too good to share a space, but I just did not want to fight anymore. My tank had run empty, and I was sputtering off the road.

The truth is that the eviction came at just the right time. I was running low in every aspect of life. Working full time led me to hating my job. The culture of it, the instability, the pay——— shit, even the job itself. Going to school full time left me feeling drained. I would leave the house at 7am and not return to nearly 10pm. My roommate would find me lying on the living room in pure silence, in the dark, with tears silently streaming down my face induced by overstimulation and exhaustion.

So, why would I fight to stay at a job that I resented when I had already decided I was moving out of state after graduation? This just sped up the process. Once I came to terms with my decision, I called my grandmother and made things happen. Before the official eviction notice was issued, I was out of Oakland and back on the East Coast.

It wasn’t until I was crying in the middle of Target1 that I realized I was not okay. I moved around so much in my early years that this initially felt like just another chapter in my book. But for some reason the tears wouldn’t stop! I am no stranger to tears and actually embrace the vulnerability they provide. But this was different. Every day for a month I was crying. Crying loud, silently in my bed, in the shower, or even in public settings. This experience broke me to my core in ways I did not understand and was not familiar with. I had so much anger. So much judgement and sadness. So much grief. I was not only grieving my time living in the Bay, but I was grieving who I had expected myself to be. I was grieving the life I wanted for myself. I was grieving the people I had loved and cherished and hated. I was grieving so much that I felt angry. After that anger subdued, a newness came over me. I’ve thought I hit rock bottom before, but this was a new low. Not lower than before. But somehow equally disturbing yet differently channelled.

I allowed myself to feel for that month. I was on break from school and was unemployed. So, I slept. I got high. I drank. I slept again and mindlessly binged movies and different Real Housewives franchises. However, I didn’t stay here. I couldn’t. I had a thesis to finish; and in some way it was a form of retribution to the system2 in order to prove that I am so much more than my circumstances. As I exercised my mind, I wanted to exercise my body. I refused to look like what I was going through.

I began exercise as a way to improve my mental state. Eventually I was only doing this to prove something to myself. I didn’t consider anyone else or their opinion of my decisions. I was broken and all the pain I had known was used to heal my soul3. I talked to my ancestors, and I talked to God directly. I talked to myself, and I talked my sister, my friends, my mom, my cousins, and my grandmother. Before I knew it, I was rewiring my perception and my nervous system. I gave up my vices for over a month and noticed my communication style changed. I processed emotions more quickly and thoroughly. Whenever I felt the urge to indulge, I questioned and tried to understand why I wanted to smoke. Why I wanted to drink. Was it out of boredom or to avoid feeling? The answer is yes.

For the first quarter of my life, I was just doing stuff. Doing stuff that I thought would make other people like me. Doing stuff so others could see the value in me. When in reality it made me deeply unhappy and deeply resentful towards the people in my life. And frankly towards myself.

I ran and avoided my feelings. Avoided myself. And the thing with running away from something is that eventually you tire, and it catches up to you. I’m not sure why things happen the way that they do; but being on the other side of things I am just so grateful to know it is happening for me. I am so grateful to have had this time to reset my nervous system and rediscover who I am. I never fully left myself; I just hid her.

Next week I will have turned 26. That same day, I will have graduated with my Master of Arts. I don’t have a job lined up, and that is okay. I know who I am, and where I want to be, but I am also willing to end up wherever I am destined to be. As long as I listen to myself and not the noise of others every decision will be led with intention.

And what a way to start the next quarter of my life.