This post is made as a journal because I started writing when I was deeply insecure about my hair but coming back to this post where I am reflecting upon self-hate and anti-blackness within in the natural hair community and Within Myself as a Black woman. This is the truth in how I was feeling at the time and the person that I was and insecurities loudly making themselves known. I do know when talking about this is a very touchy topic and it’s been hard to speak fully without judgement.

Jan 18th 2026

I Don’t Love My Hair: Anti Blackness Within Natural hair

As a black woman my hair is a big part of my identity and it’s been stripped from me.

When I was a junior in highschool. I couldn’t go to my regular stylist, she kinda just up and disappeared. I wanted a sew in so we went in the cut on fulton street to an upstairs salon to get it done. It was a group of carribean women and I told her I just wanted a sew in. I got in her chair and she started braiding my hair. I felt this wave of I don’t wanna be here and I never had any words to put into what I was feeling for the moment but I began to ball; asking for my very absent mother who was never there. The stylist asked if I wanted to continue but I said yes. going to school without your hair done is a death sentence for the average young black girl. I’ve always had my hair done up until that point. My hair was very thick. I ended up sucking up the tears and let her finish. It was really tight, but when you get your hair done, it’s always tight the first week.

a few weeks past and I this smell started to develop. I took it out about a month later and when I did there was puss and blood and my hair came out in clumps. I was in and out of hospitals where they would just look at me like I was crazy and they never seen anything like that. So they didn’t really help. They just prescribed shampoo. My nana did her best in her late 60s trying to help me but it didn’t feel like help. no one took the right actions by me. No one consoled me, no one got justice for me. I sat depressed and didn’t go to school for a month. I basically failed that entire spring semester of high school because of this. My absent mother who was trying to be in my life tried to tell me i need to go get my nails done, or do something girlie. Not addressing the trauma I faced. No one did. My nana got me a wig but that didn’t make me feel better. It was the only thing I got. When it healed in the coming months - by the end of the semester, I made my own clip ins and decided to perm my hair myself.

this incident left me with a large crescent moon shaped bald spot in the middle of my head that I still have till this day. that was 2013. It’s now 2026 and I am still dealing with my hair and scalp. I never had a day where I am not self conscious about my hair.

Within my 20’s I haven’t gotten to experiment with my hair. I stopped perming once I got into college. This was when everyone was going natural. I did my first style of box braids myself when I got my first job at 23. It’s been wigs and box braids every since.

Since coming into pro blackness and learning the history of anti blackness - I knew my hair was much more powerful but I still felt ashamed of the bald stop that felt like it commondered my scalp. Conversations on the internet arise and asks why you wear wigs and if you’re trying to assimilate into whiteness or if you just hate yourself.

I ended up becoming so stressed due to my family issues. That my hair began to fall out and ever since then, any amount of stress my hair falls out in clumps. It grows back thinner and my curl pattern has weakened.

I was with a man who told me my hair was beautiful in its natural state while demonizing the wigs I had. He tried to make me have my afro out because he was pro black and wanted me to love myself. All it did was amplify my insecurities because I felt like I had too.

At 29 I’ve become very insecure about hair in general. I don’t wanna be seen with my natural hair outside. Wigs feel anti black. Braids are pulling out my hair. Stress is making me bald. I have a permanent bald spot that is basically scar tissue and you want me to live laugh love with my hair?

I try so hard to pour love into my hair, tell myself I love it. Try new things with it and it is just traumatizing. styles I want to do I can’t. the internet and social standards make me feel like my hair needs to be a certain length to be acceptable…

April 28, 2026

Realization: An update

I started this substack jan 18th - or, that’s when my last draft of this has been touched. It is now April 28th. So much has transcribed since last looking at this. Before I changed the title, it was called; I don’t love my hair. it has changed

I put on a full straight hair wig in the last few days, and it feels like nothing has gone right ever since. I am fighting myself even more with the anti-blackness that I face every day when it comes to my hair. It is causing strain within my relationship with my partner who was also Pro black and has the same beliefs that I do when it comes to anti-blackness and hair. This wig has made him come to question whether or not I'm Pro black enough or if it is his ideals that are at the Forefront being the driving Factor of our shared values. It doesn’t make me feel or look good - which might be because for the past year or 2, i’ve mainly done braids or twists. It’s giving jumpscare.

I believe I jumped the gun when it comes to putting on this wig. I didn't think deeply about what that means how it's going to attribute into my Pro blackness and the issues it would bring into my relationship. I also want to speak about how, I don't feel pretty even with the wig on. Isn't that so weird, ironic, I guess, for a girl who wore wigs so much.

I was talking with my partner and brought up the fact that I put on this wig. I could hear the change in his voice and how upset it was making him. my takeaway from our conversation was, that I'm not the person who he thought I was when it comes to Pro blackness in my beliefs and values Within myself. But to my surprise the reaction after the tonal change was very surprising. He had said do what makes you happy but underneath it was a shroud of disappointment, and it threw me off, only because they are the type of person to fight for their beliefs with others and they were not fighting and that confused me. He ended up asking me questions on why and it was difficult to answer. I had to start asking myself why? Why was I so mindless in making this decision knowing my ideologies and beliefs & knowing the person that I am with has a problem with it as well?

The next day I really sat with myself and decided to understand why it is that I decided to put on the wig. It was for ease of access and not having to deal with my natural hair. I was tired of my hair falling out in clumps, the big ball spot in the middle of my head, my edges deteriorating, alopecia, and the list goes on and on. By centering my insecurities of my hair, not wanting to take care of it, lead me to putting a wig on my head. And then has caused a rift within my relationship the way that I am perceived as Pro black.

I watched a video of this person on TikTok and they spoke about natural hair and the spiritual aspects of it and by the end, it made me ask the question; do I know my hair? not just physical attributes but deeply and spiritually. Have I put into practice ritual for my hair and connecting with it, honoring it for all it has done for me instead of villainize and play victim to the trauma I let hold me hostage.

@kurothehomieWhy are you 30 with an Afro? #fyp #blackhair

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2-3 videos down, I see this video of a guy talking about someone saying to him, why do you have a afro at 30? When was it unacceptable to just grow your hair out. I feel like men, though they have made their own hair and presentably olympics, it is not as rigorous as those who present in a maximalist fem way, also go through the anti blackness with hair as well. He’s absolutely right. and he made me think as well about my role and how i’m just influenced easily with my insecurities.

Another few posts down I saw a video of a woman speaking and the way that she spoke presented a tone of anti-blackness within her words. She began to speak about how good her hair was because her hair was long. And basically made the insinuation that other women can't relate. I clocked that very quickly once the video started. Then proceeded to talk about the anti-blackness that she faced with men that did not like 4c hair who were truly anti-black. But all this in a span of 10 minutes. Like ok universe.

natural hair olympics on social media has weaseled it’s way into to my media. I do understand the nuances of this topic from pro black to the self hating black person who is brainwashed; but at the end of the day its all rooted in anti blackness but also the harsh demonization of wig wearing causes more insecurities and rebelling.

Then a could be argument arose but stopped before it could escalate- That is the catalyst. If this is causing so much turmoil, I don’t want it. with me And in my relationship. GET RID OF IT - I DON’T WANT THESE ISSUES

Though, I know this is the starting point. Cold turkey can’t come overnight, But I am to make rituals to self affirm

May 18th

Arriving Home: Shedding the Shame

I returned home from the dorms a few days ago. Before I left I made a batch of cold brew Flaxseed Gel - flaxseed’s in a jar with water sitting for a few days, no boiling water - I’ve been getting bullied on TikTok about it and all its benefits. Getting home I finally decided to wash my hair thoroughly and use my Gel. Today I pre-pooped my hair with my gel and it was so nurushing. It slipped through my hair just like my leave in conditioner. I use the Bella Curls leave in before the brand identity change… I haven’t been able to find it anywhere — new and old. The only thing this gel was missing was a good smell and a better application bottle. I wash and conditioned; and then with damp hair I put just the gel on my hair. It’s different from doing it on dry hair; and I like rehydrating the dry hair but it feels easier to notice if you’ve drenched the hair in gel and it springing back to life. It’s just harder to tell on wet hair. It also dried and hardened and left me with shirt flakes but that doesn’t bother me. I like to crunch my hair.

I spent all day with my hair out. I went on the lawn and laid out. I went to the grocery store before they closed with my hair out and I felt like it was freeing. I woke up from a nap and decided I wanted snacks, took my bonet off to a smooshed fro and just added water.

Lord knows I can complain about the length Olympics, the fro shape or even her being a little see through at the ends. BUT it didn’t compare to not having to worry about it. This was a very strange experience for me. From the start of this piece to me fully investing in the freedom that is having your hair out. But the removal of performance.

May 21

The last update.

I've learned a lot with the removal of performance since I've been home. And experienced freedom and safety because of the lack of perception around my hair. Since everyone usually has something to say. But in this freeing time, my last act that solidified it was the rain. In NYC yesterday, the rain was so bad after a 90° day. We had a flood warning. I stepped out on the porch with my cousin and just stood in the rain. I didn't worry about if my fro was going to get wet or ruining my hair in any capacity. I just enjoyed the rain.

In my almost 30 years I don't think I've been able to do that. And it is a reality for alot of black women. Which is saddening.

Tho sometimes I look in the mirror and I'm like Woah. But it's what comes outta my head so I can't even be mad. Acceptance and gratitude that I can even have hair that reaches towards the sun. Hair like my ancestors that helped them get to where they need to be. Hair that in trying to cover up won't shield the glow and perseverance of Blackness. Ya know? There's a lot of pride but I understand the shame that comes with it as well. The expression that was created from the antiblackness with wigs and extensions etc. This is still a work in progress, sometimes I can slip and others days I will be the most confident but I am still learning to love my hair.

The cheetah girls said in their best movie, The Party’s Just Begun!

I’m very excited for the journey to come!

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If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll surely want some more:

Earlier this year I tweeted this. I’ve been saying bring back little mice media ever since then. I have been craving to see more talking mice living their little mice lives. Not only for the children shows, but for adults as well - and we’re not talking mainstream mickey mouse and his multiple spin offs.

The First mouse media I feel I’ve encountered was 3 blind mice, the Mother Goose Nursery rhyme that has interpreted in different media and stories across time — like within shrek. Then came, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Angelina Ballerina, Chrysanthemum, Wemberly Worried — Some of the best children’s books. Getting older I always saw the book, The Tale of Despereaux. Then the Stuart Little film came out. Mouse hunt was also a popular film, but that was for adults. Tom and Jerry, Cinderella, Pinky and the Brain, Maisy! The list goes on and on.

In 2025 I found an anime that exemplified my feelings on bringing back mouse media. The Adventures of Gamba, an anime that was so cute. It was about a mouse who goes to an island to help other mice who were being killed and tormented by a white weasel — I never finished it but It is always in the back of my mind.

What prompted me to finally write this post, was a video on youtube about a game with a mouse as the main character, Mina the Hollower. It is 2d platformer and it was created in 2024. I haven’t seen a cute mouse game like this, ever.

Not to mention I played (briefly) with my partner, Mouse PI for Hire.

As nostalgic as it feels to look back at all the media of mice and see it slightly resurging. I wonder why the talking animal cartoons and books are being pushed to the wayside? I grew up on things like Oswald, It’s a Big Big world, between the lions, dragon tales, maggie and the ferocious beast, that actually taught you life lessons and academic knowledge about the world. People want to see the animals talk, but it’s usually delegated to children’s shows and now from like 6 and under.

Watching Gamba felt like it took its young adult audience serious with the themes presented in the show. I’m looking for more Young Adult/Adult fiction involving mice and their problems and how they navigate the world because honestly, Gamba changed my perspective on how I want my mice media to be. It’s interesting to be within the shoes of a talking animal while it’s giving actual life advice on how to handle grief or competition, family, environmental threats, etc etc. Unlike the kids media where it is more simple and black and white. In media the i’ve been exposed to, Mice tend to be the side characters or even just briefly mentioned and I know there are more complex stories to be told!

Anthropomorphism can be taken so much farther than kids media. It creates a sense of Connection & Empathy that regular shows cannot breach because it projects human traits onto the non-human entities and that helps people builds emotional bonds with pets, nature, or even technology. Which is why I believe anime is so popular; tho they don’t usually have anthropomorphic characters, but the Idea that this is a cartoon and “removed” away from reality (“Because it is just a cartoon or fake”) so when themes of real life come up, it’s easier to understand and relate and actually engage.

The only real media I see of mice is real life issues like the Hantavirus (which should be take so much more serious) and now farmers in australia having issues with a surplus of rodents on their land, as I was doing research on mouse media.

I was just hoping that the mice media will grow up with me. I might have to be the one to make the media. Make the thing you wanna see especially when you don’t see them.

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This is a difficult topic to talk about because I know intersectionality and identity is something people hold near to them to create a sense of self, understand who they are and give name to something that they couldn’t identify. But living the life I live as a black woman and navigating in white spaces more than I ever had in life, it is now apparent that intersectionality and the multitude of identity politics is being taken over by whiteness and scrubs blackness and the actual oppression we face by leveling the playing field mentally for white people so they feel a sense of safety to take away their accountability and compliance within white supremacy. In reality it is keeping whiteness in power and playing oppression Olympics with Actual marginalized people.

@teeksterrrules of racism #callthedoc #drumar #joebudden

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Dr. Umar, as controversial as he is, spoke nothing but the truth when he went on the Joe Budden podcast in 2024.

To be racist means you are upholding your power and doing nothing to dismantle it. You want control, resources and opportunities for only white people. Being a bigot in the context of blackness is a person who like Dr. Umar says, hates you because you are black. They are unwilling to accept or respect differing viewpoints or backgrounds, they perform active prejudice by Holding rigid irrational biases against a specific group, while claiming their “Superiority” believing that their own group, culture, or opinion is inherently superior to others.

The added layer that Umar added, adds a psychological analysis which no one talks nearly enough about; and it’s the emotional attachment to the destruction of blackness. Attachment is the word that sticks out the most. This attachment makes them blind to everything else because it is unhealthy, but more importantly it regresses society because all their focus is on the destruction of blackness to uphold their power. We could be actually saving the world, creating cures, etc but you chose to be attached to anti-Blackness

Which is why when we talk about afro-pessimism, it revolves around the idea that anti-Blackness is an inescapable, permanent foundation of the modern world — BECAUSE of the Attachment White people have with it. Both within the clear bigotry and the racism of upholding the structure. Tho issues with the Ideology comes when it speaks to the system never being able to be fixed — there is always something small you can do, but we actually have to band together for change but I know Anti blackness within the community is hard to erase.

So when we talk about Intersectionality, it gives white people the excuse to play with marginalization like Poly Pocket’s interchangeable clothes. “because I am queer I am marginalized”, “Because I am a woman I am marginalized”. but can take off the clothes one day to just be white and uphold that structure. It reminds me of how the feminist movement was on the rise, they played marginalization because they didn’t get the advantages of upholding white supremacy like men. They do not actually care about other demographics of women in that context, nor did they care about actually dismantling the system of whiteness/patriarchy. They just wanted to sit beside them because at the end of the day they are still white.

It is the same thing as grabbing all these identities like infinity stones and using it as a power play to not engage in the conversation that is the root of the problem, which is that your identity takes nothing from your whiteness while your whiteness takes over spaces for actual marginalized people. Then you perform allyship because you have this false Idea in your head we are the same because you believe you are marginalized as a white person. And don’t get me wrong I get there are struggles, BUT YOU’RE WHITE! You will inherently have more power regardless if you feel like you do because the system was created for you, and upholds your whiteness no matter where you are within it. period.

YOU CAN’T BE MARGINALIZED!!!!!!

But tell me how you are dismantling the white power structure embedded into our country’s foundation? How are you changing the system? Because changing the system means giving up your whiteness — your power, opportunities and community. Speaking to your racist and bigoted family doesn’t count, so I’ll wait…

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Identity and Blackness

The removal of Blackness within identity is a scary one. We say we are queer before we are Black, we are poor/rich before we are Black, we are nerds and lovers of all these things before Blackness. When our inherent Blackness is the foundation of identity. without it, it opens the door to anti-Blackness with ourselves and perpetuating it within the community. I will alway say I am Black before I am non binary (which is more spiritual for me), I am black before I am queer - not only because it is visibly obvious when I step into a room I am Black, But because I am proud of the skin I am in, the history we have made, the culture that still stands. You also don’t see my queerness before my blackness. You have to ask. Queerness in a sense, has a level of performance to it and YES for sure, baby we can clock that tea from a mile away, but you are black first. There is in recent times less pride of being Black and that’s because of the dismantlement of the Black community, anti Blackness being fundamentally taught.

There was a study that showed children examining skin color and how they felt about it. Things like this start in the home and when the black children are saying, the darker skinned picture is dumb or they are less nice because of their skin. Then comparing to what the white children say. It is learned bias by their community. Whether they learn it through parents or media - white is typically “right” while Black is wrong.

Instilling racial pride in Black people is important. When they don’t, they choose to hang on to every other identity except blackness and it just becomes a breeding ground for anti-Blackness within the community. As Black people we need to be careful, intersectionality is nice to know where you fit and choosing/identifying with concepts that speak to you are important — we need words to understand what we are feeling because sometimes it feels like we are in the dark, but let’s not let it erase the fundamental identity of Blackness.

As much as the world will try to erase color, Blackness is loud, it is bold, it upholds centuries of love and resilience — You should should be proud.

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It is 3 months before I hit my 30th birthday (April 22). I’ve lightly reflected on my 20’s and the person I’ve become up until now but I came across this youtube video questioning who is a women, how you are indoctrinated into womanhood and if you ever get there by yourself without others telling you this “milestone” makes you a woman; mind you this person is about to be 21.

It caused me to think about when I started feeling like a woman. It wasn’t until the past year have I been feeling like a Woman ( but mainly just an adult) - heavy on the Capital W. Due to the relationship I am in and growing not only emotionally with this person but mentally and physically through mostly long distance. I have become better at expressing the person I am, I know the morals and values that actually matter to me. I am no longer letting the wind whisk me away to place to place , but knowing where I want to be and demanding to be in that space.

This caused me to think about the rest of my 20’s and how I felt like a child up until about last year. I’ve had a plethora of jobs, moved many times, but still felt like I have no autonomy of my life. I didn’t understand then but I also understood that the people around me didn’t have that autonomy to teach because they didn’t know either —I wrote a poem about this a few days ago. About how some people pass down their lineage and stories of cautionary tales for you to learn from. I never go that even as a kid. no history, no lessons. Just “go to school because it is your job” and then get a job. You can be creative but know you have to get a job. I picked up on the anti blackness/racism when we would go into shops owned by asian people and they would stare and follow me and my grandmother around but she would never tell me why. It is something I have had to go searching for the past few years. — From having to be a child and choosing now is the time to step up for myself. I do understand there is a privilege that comes with that; I’ve gotten to dilly dally on life and slowly progress the person I am, learn new things, let trauma and fear rule me for a large part of my 20’s without having to be homeless and worry financially. It is a blessing, I got to just live life as a young adult and be a little reckless and leave emotional bodies in my wake (sorry to those people).

I think as traumatizing as my 20’s were, I have gone through so many amazing experiences and I wouldn’t let the negative out weight the positive.

• I got my associates

• I worked all pandemic so (I was making munyon)

• Living my little pansexual/poly life (Briefly)

• Meeting one of my best friends and helping her on her or-kids tapes

• Constantly working at Art supply stores and meeting so many amazing people (not just employee’s but the customers)

• I was determined to get my license but ended up failing because I decided to take shrooms the night before lol

• BDSM/kink opening neural pathways

• I went to my first 2 (and only) concerts in my life

  • I met Group therapy before they become party of 2

• Truly becoming pro-black

• Witchcraft (2016) leading me in Hoodoo and ancestral practices

• Going back to school for my BA

  • Using my associates graphic design degree as a social media intern (finally)

• Getting back into writing and creating (still working on) my mini 2024 book

• Creating personal curriculum

• Discovering Live Jazz and spoken word (changing my brain chemistry)

• Going from being a tea hater to an advocate (herbalism eats tbh)

• Starting to not just journal my bad days but the deeper thoughts

• Reading but letting that inspire my writings

• Going to Therapy (with a black therapist)

• Childlike wonder keeps you youthful - WHIMSY

• Meeting the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with

These are the things that are the most important to me but I am also proud of myself for getting this far!

For my thirties I want to do more not just for myself but to create community and cultivate artistic space for people and not just myself but being fully active in that. Being in college I see the community that is here within the black poc spaces and how much it takes to actually put it together being within the major of Arts Management.

Personally continuing to expand my consciousness — though I know how all this sounds when the world is literally on fire and we don’t know how the next few years will be. Because working in a capitalist world where there is fight against blackness and it’s culture with the erasure coupled along with that. But actually trying to live the life I want and not floating through it.

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And starting my 30’s in Africa - I got into study abroad - I think going into my thirties in such a refreshing way will really start a new era!

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I started this mid april and coming back to it this late into may feels so heartwarming after a very rough weekend. evolution and gratitude is where I’d like the direction of this season to go.

As a black woman I find we are being sold artificial juice with tons of sugars and I’m about to turn 30 so health is actually important now. I dabble in herbalism for the spiritual aspects as well as the health benefits of the herbs I use and Now it’s more important than ever to really get my health together!

I am definitely a sweets girl. I love my cakes and cookies, I love my sweet juices. But I can’t take in that kind of processed white sugar anymore, it inflames my body and starts activating my eczema and I Become itchy all over. I’ve also developed some food allergies, unfortunately. They can’t tell you why you develop them they just come to switch you life up. Maybe catching covid 3 times will give you allergies but alas, my life has been flipped on its head; Peanuts, apples, celery and shellfish are my newly formed allergies… do I need to live in a bubble? I am also lactose to add more to my injuries, so milk is also making my body inflamed.

Womb health is also why I am getting into tea. I want my ovaries to thank me in the future (I.e. every month).

Because you guys know history is important. LET’S TALK TEA! Tea was accidentally discovered in china where emperor Shen Nung was boiling his water and some leaves fell into it around 2737 BC. That is the most common legend on how tea came to be and from then we’ve been throwing leaves, flowers, fruits, barks, and roots in water and making tea.

For us black folk, Tea has been a staple in our root work since the inception of blackness in the US. They used it to drink or wash with, physically and spiritually. I don’t know the deeper history other than the basics. I wanted to point this out because there is this “chinese baddie” trend going about in 2026 where people are just drinking hot tea, but I want it to be clear that tho the chinese found tea, we have been using tea as well for our own means. trends are cool but we need more context.

also hot tea or water in the morning can help immensely, so the practices are not bad just having nuance and bringing black culture into something that has always been there for us. Erasure won’t be happening on my watch

All tea is not the same. Not only can it be leaves, it can be flowers, fruits, barks or roots and each of these can have a different flavor profile. Some are floral in taste, you could get earthy and woody with another, something soft and light in taste, others are extremely bitter. I maybe giving you my personal recipes but it is personal taste, I urge you to change the ingredients if you have a taste you like a lot.

How you steep your tea is very important! I cannot stress this enough. I personally do not favor hot tea but it is becoming something that I can appreciate. My prefered method to make tea is overnight steeping; I put my herbs/fruits etc in with my sweetener, shake it up or stir and let it sit in a dry cool place or the fridge and by the morning it’s well steeped and loved. 24 hours is the best, but overnight works as well. Some tea may become bitter if you pour boiling hot water on it which is why it is important to check the temp of your water - So to mitigate the temp checks I just brew overnight or I do it was hot and not boiling water.

Sweeteners… This step is important and of personal preference. I’ve tried your classic, honey and agave. I’ve tried some coconut sugar which I only recommend with coffee, it gives a certain taste to it. there’s also monk fruit which I haven’t tried and so many others. you can also use literal fruit as a natural sweetener b/c their natural sugar are good for the brain.

For those of us who are Lactose. This is for US! I have found my favorite dairy alternative and its coconut milk powder. I don’t use it to make big batches of milk but i take a small teaspoon of it and add water to it. you can use the other nut milks but since I found out I have a nut allergy, it’s better to be safe. also, oat milk is good and all this you can make yourself.

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Not only is this a herbalism diary about getting health together, it is a ritual practice of presence like I have spoken about on my latest substack about society moving a little to fast for my liking.

This is very important to me and my growing love of tea - after hating it for so long has brought me a type of peace I couldn’t imagine. So this is very personal and spiritual for me. I’ve taken so much time to test teas and create recipes and curate my collection of herbs.

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Now that I have Prefaced with a little Deepdive on Tea and my preference, let’s get into the recipes!

WE ARE BLACK! U MEASURE WITH YOUR SOUL UNTIL THE ANCESTORS SAY IT’S TIME TO STOP

Hibiscus Tea (Overnight steep)

This is my go to tea if I want something sweet that isn’t juice.

Ingredients:

• Hibiscus/sorrel - lower blood pressure, reduce levels of sugar and fats in the blood, reduce swelling, and works like antibiotics

• Lemon juice (concentrate or fresh) - antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, and digestive benefits, as well as potential roles in preventing muscle damage and aiding in respiratory issues.

• Lime Juice (Concentrate or fresh) - boost immunity, aid digestion, promote heart health, and potentially protect against certain cancers and kidney stones

• Ginger (Fresh or dried) - aiding digestion, relieving nausea, reducing inflammation, and potentially even helping to manage blood sugar levels. definitely good for colds

• Sweetener of choice - I usually us honey

• 100% fruit juice of choice (Optional) - Guava nectar is my personally my favorite, but you can mix and match your fave fruit juice to give it more flavor

• cloves (optional) - promote oral health, aid digestion by reducing bloating/gas, and may help regulate blood sugar levels (Gives a bit of spice)

If you want a nice tea that kind of taste like strawberry milk you can always add any type of milk to this and it is phenomenal. I used dairy free!

Milk Tea (Overnight Steep)

This is a milk tea base. I usually make boba for this but you can just drink it without the razzle dazzle of boba lol

Ingredients:

• Black tea - improving heart health, boosting focus (caffeine), supporting gut health, reducing blood sugar, and rich antioxidants

• Non-dairy milk - I usually use almond or oat but you can use other alternatives or regular dairy (I’m lactose)

• Vanilla extract

• Sweetener of Choice

Snapple Lemon Tea Dupe

(Hot Water Steep)

I had some Snapple recently and I really enjoy the flavors of it but I don’t like that it said artificially flavored. I also just wanted a shit ton more and the tiny bottle wasn’t cutting it and I wasn’t about to go buy another bottle when I can make it myself

• Black tea - (I used english breakfast but any black tea would work) improving heart health, boosting focus (caffeine), supporting gut health, reducing blood sugar, and rich antioxidants

• Green tea - heart health, brain function, blood sugar regulation, weight management, oral health

• Lemon juice (concentrated or fresh) - I used concentrate and the sodium from it gave it a little kick so see if you like the added salt, if not use fresh lemons (also I used a lot because it’s supposed to be like lemonade tea)

• Lime juice- it kind of cancels out the sourness of the lemon (but I only used a little bit)

• Cane sugar

Librarian Tea(Hot water Steep)

My cousin had this amazing tea in her tea cabinet that she said I could take and it is so cozy. It is premade tea from the company August uncommon tea. it’s a really good tea to cuddle up with, read or just enjoy your morning silently

• The Library Malty Black tea - Reduces bloat, Mood lift and cognitive enhancement, Balanced energy (it’s one of the most flavorful black teas I’ve ever had)

• Non dairy milk

• Honey

I started this june of 2025. I have for the past year been drinking mostly my hibiscus tea because it is my favorite tea to drink, reduces the cramps and effects of my period as a person with a uterus. But I have found some teas that I do enjoy over the past year and I’m happy I get to share this with the collective!

Thank you guys for sharing this moment with me.

Tell me in the comments below what kind of teas do you enjoy and why?

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I’ve been thinking alot about the content creators/entertainers I watch; Also Myself. Asking the questions, what happens after the milestone? How does it feel once you accomplish something? It’s over and now planning for the next thing… What’s Next?

Things are going to fast

To many in’s in out of trends, media, and now people? I’m realizing that I’ll watch someone for 2 months straight and then the algorithm will change. new people are here, introducing themselves to us through their break through internet moment; and be you the lucky one who will find them and start consuming them. Then they disappear just as fast as you find out about them.

Do you choose to stick around for this creator? But if you’re just flowing with the algorithm do you even care to?

Even with music. I don’t think I’ve sat with a piece of music. A project even; fully, for longer than 5 years constantly. Now I feel like it is lessening, new artists every few months, weeks, days for some people. I feel like the last thing I listened to front to back constantly was ariana grande and everything she has assumed to be going on; as her private life is not private. You move on because the people you see and grow up with do things we don’t agree with, you no longer resonate with the media you’ve consumed (I.E It’s a new era of your life) or you forget about them. As much as that feels like a weird parasocial relationship ending. At the end of it you move on. but it feels way too fast.

Movies and Entertainment as well. I used to re-watch pirated movies/shows (because I was poor and had no choice when we didn’t have cable or internet). There used to be a time where you could gather at a specific time to watch a show and the anticipation and chats leading up to an episode or movie premiere and the talks after; just to do it again with a ruminating mind because you’ve been thinking about the media you consumed and have digested it fully. Streaming takes that away from us, constant Live streaming kinda takes that away from us as well. You watch things at 2x speed just to get through the video. Personally I think people talk a little slow but when did it get to the point where that wasn’t good enough.

We don’t sit with things for long periods of time.

That even goes for consumerism. there’s always a new ad, someone is sponsored, same product different name. All just thrown at you, at every second you’re online. I’ve just been observing, unintentionally coz I’m on my phone a lot, but i’ve just been seeing how fast things come in and out of style. It’s becoming stupidly fast to the point it’s a little concerning…

when do we slow down?

everything is so fast I’m starting to get overstimulated because why did I go into the kitchen; the loudest gospel music no one asked for is being played and the baby who is glued to a tv and she’s 1 was blasting so loud I have to put on headphones. I went got food quickly and left. I didn't get to enjoy making my food and pouring love into it.When I wen to eat I noticed I even chew to fast, not really enjoying the flavors of food. It’s insane.

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I think there is something to say about the act of whimsy being popular. The selfhelp craze and trends like the trad wife & cottage core (Which I’m at odds with because of the weird anti blackness the community creates and its rooted in classism). Tho those are just offsets that can be a type of romanticized slowlife, because everything is so fast and trends have been trying to implement a “Soft Life” (which alot of that is consumerism - Buy the life you want, type shit). You even have to think about if these trends are going to go out of style?

When I say live a slow life, I mean, taking your time with your everyday tasks. Being in the present moment and just existing with a thing, a moment, people you love. you don’t even need to be super reflective and introspective about it. Just experiencing it; noticing it is happening, give joy, give gratitude, maybe even nothingness. But taking the time to just Be.

I do enjoy the analytical side of that when it does come to media. What does this mean? Why is this being said? Tho some people are harsh critics with a pompous lens. So just enjoy what you see and the fact that someone took the time to make their idea come true. Even if it is so bad just sit with it.

I will be implementing this through taking time to drink tea or even my water. I want to slowly integrate it into the small things that I do. Or when I get up in the morning and not getting on my phone and just waking up enjoying my mornings slowly

There’s always nuance to these situations. I am Black, I am a minority fighting anti blackness everyday, under the poverty line, who has constantly been on government assistance as an adult and with my guardians growing up; I.E. SURVIVING. So I understand you might feel there might not even be time for slowing down. People have kids and jobs, family and domestic issues, homelessness, etc. I’m currently back in school. It’s the last thing anyone would want to think about. But I think during the day, as hectic as it is. Just a 1 solid deep breath, no thoughts. centering self even if it’s just for 30 seconds.

Wanting to take the time and knowing you should is the first realization - acknowledgement. Which is always the first step!

What prompted this talk about slowing down (right before I decided to write this) was being on youtube and putting on a movie. They have some very old Vch movies on there for free. The one I watched was called The Wind in the Willow. this is a stop motion film about talking animals living their daily lives. The first 5 minutes of the movie is a mole painting his house prepping for spring. It was the cutest and I thought, Wow we aren’t taking time like that anymore to even just enjoy our homes and make it comfortable like this little stop motion mole. But the start of this movie was really slow and I enjoyed it so much, how much time he was taking setting up his home, the fact that when he dipped his paintbrush in his tea he didn’t get super mad he just decided to go for a walk. these are the slow moments.

If you have the time please. this movie is literally the cutest thing in the world and it’s linked.

This was supposed to be; sometimes I’m scared of the milestone because what do I do now? My whole life revolved around this one thing and it no longer does. Now you create new goals, experiences, meaning to your life. But when I talk about that, I don’t necessarily mean I’m not enjoying the process. And depending on the situation, it’s hell. RELEASE ME! But I mean the fear of finishing and then creating a new identity; The What’s Next? Tho, I don’t particularly like “creating a new identity” more like, Adding more substance to my identity I already am. But honestly it is just the fear of the unknown, that if you are not ready can keep you stuck where you are.

But i’m glad I found slowing down from this feeling. Taking the time to apreciate where I am and how I want to move forward.

For the first time in my life I heard that and I believed it. Not because I wasn’t smart or didn’t know anything before but I am actively putting in the work to educate myself to a level I never did experienced because it means something to me.

It is a… Desire? A validation of some sorts - to be seen as smarter than the anti Blackness that you couldn’t name, or the social anti Blackness and government support of it. It feels like a duty. My desire for education of Blackness, love, the ancestors that came before me in the country I was born in and taken from. It is something tied to my soul and once learning one piece of information you have to learn it all. The meaning of this to me is profound.

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For winter break I decided I wanted to create a curriculum around black love. I was running cycles within a relationship because I didn’t know what it was to love. Small gestures that gave care and softness. I feel no one has ever asked me what I think love means, how it is shown and why? My partner before didn’t feel loved or prioritized and I thought I was doing enough and clearly I wasn’t. I adopted the traits of an absent father who cycled women like they were poker chips - but wasn’t aware of it. I created a space alone in my head where fake relationships lived, I’ve created lies to be safe: all because the world around me seemed to not accept me and want to hear my voice. I wasn’t taught how to regulate emotions or even have friends and why they matter. Acknowledgement & Agency/Action. All this was pointed out to me all of 2025 and my flabbers were gasted. I didn’t understand at the time when it was being pointed out. But it stuck in the back of my mind.

I’ve repeated cycles due to the lack of action to better. So I took it upon myself to create agency something I was told I lack. A curriculum to start putting things to practice.

Theory with practice means nothing

I spent the end of the fall 2025 semester creating a plan, gather resources to make sure this wouldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t hurt the people I love. The more I begin to learn, the softer I became — A new version of empathy blossomed. There is a innate feeling of lightness and wanting. Because not only love was important but the history of it within black communities brings me deeper into it. Every black person deserved to feel, show and embody love of the truest form that isn’t within the lens of surviving within the white systems. I also learned that I am not alone in this world of “anti love” within the black community, it is sometimes generational due to the government’s involvement of trying to destroy blackness, demonize it or even erase it.. They did their big one with self hate and keeping families apart but I know that is just another hurdle that community and love will fix and we just have to put the work in (I will have an in-depth essay on what I learned about Black love). These studies and going back to school has taught me so much about the community, it has given birth to a version on me. I have created meaning, a purpose.

In this time I have created the dedication and drive to learn.

This has also brought me to a point where I can sit and actually articulate how I feel about certain things. It gives me the language to go deeper than the surface when it comes to analytically engaging in things — especially conversationally. I use to feel like no one would want to talk about my special interest in detail (you know, black girl liking anime and cartoons from the projects) but I realized I never had the words to truly have those kinds of conversations in the first place (even tho those conversations were never initiated). Honestly, this has been the best part, knowing that I have the ability to truly engage with things with a critical lens — sorry to those who are stuck in the literary crisis with the kids & adults — when it comes to my special interest and Black political beliefs (because unfortunately everything under blackness is political) I love to learn.

I recently spent time with a friend of mine after almost a year. We talked about love and had very deep conversations about what’s going on in the world with empathy and scrutiny for the government we live under — that we should honestly overthrow. Tho I didn’t know the extreme details, I know that threw my lens of blackness this is very reminiscent of things i’ve seen and read before. Even that within itself is so astronomically crazy that I couldn’t have these types of political and important conversations before. I was always on the surface.

In my youth I was a very quiet girl — Forced into submission of silence. Everyone was happy to know I caused no problems. I became an observer who floated through life. No opinions but I just liked making things with my hands. No one to truly express myself to, not even guardians because of disappointment and anger lashings for not doing the right thing — Plus, you know black people: extremely judgy and gossipers. I always saw the bad end of totem pole where kids would act out because they aren’t being seen and their needs aren’t met emotionally (probably physically as well), I never wanted to be that. I never wanted to be seen as the problem. differing views seemed like conflict and how do you even deal with that? all the conflict i’ve seen was ended quickly by leaving and I adopted that in my youth. Alone — due to shame, perception and not expressing myself verbally. Which is why I write so heavily now.

I would be lying to you if I didn’t say I was holding on to that Identity — even now, it is rooted itself in my believes, how I move in the world because of social standards/performative politics. But being aware of this is not enough (we have that down packed actually), I have to dismantle the silence, I have to move within love. Also don’t take this as I have to learn and dismantle alone. this is why we have community. Without my former partner having patience and teaching me, pointing out my flaws that hurt them deeply, help and guidance within school to create a well rounded articulate answer for texts, and the love received by my friend. I wouldn’t be here at this moment speaking with such intionality.

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My first taste of critically engaging with media though my first ever substack back in june of 2025 was my article: Engaging in Meaningful Critical Thought.

Where I talked about journing and actually going deeper into your thoughts and expressing them — but it was only surface level, toe dipping. The deeper I have engaged in the media that means something to me it has brought me to new heights. I definitely call myself an intellectual now and I feel it.

So yes, I am a smart girl. It is so much fun to learn (Did i mention that this work has brought me closer to what I want to explore deeper, special interest-wise, sacred love and sensual whimsy). It removes me from the trap of doom-scrolling and is very intentional work. I’m still working on the action, putting the learned theory to practice, I.E do some experiments — but that is the next step on my journey!

Then the next step after that is taking a public speech class because once I can speak words confidently, with my intake of information - OH! Y’all will be sick of me, I might even start arguments for fun!

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Thank you for taking the time to read this, engage and think deeper with me.

Tell me about a time where you lacked agency and were floating through life?

I just finished the novel — James by percival Everett for my African American literature class. We have to finish a book every 2 weeks; this is our 3rd book and the second one I’ve read fully. The last book was hard to get through; so the way in which I decided to read was with a Ebook and then transferred to an audiobook to make sure I finished the novel for class. Which is a very good method of getting through books quickly if you need to for a class.

Being in this class and reading ‘James’, by Percival Everett, Jesmyn Ward’s ‘Let Us Descend’, and Toni Morrison’s ‘A Mercy’ brought me deeper into what slave narratives offer. A chance for the unspoken to finally have their side shared. Questioning the very history of slave narratives and their function in society. The pursuit of this knowledge, brings me to epistemology.

Epistemology is the theory of knowledge. It asks: What counts as knowledge? How is knowledge acquired? Who gets to be a “knower”? Whose knowledge is considered valid? — and when it comes to slave narratives who tells the story and how they portray it vs those who are oppressed. narratives written by white people often portrayed black people as uncivilized monsters that needed to be saved, using science to try to prove the difference in intelligence between the races. Whoever is the victor or in this case the oppressor, gets to tell the story and that’s the story society goes with. Tho there were laws in place in the united states preventing slaves from learning, They did anyway. beginning to read and write was the start of their revolution. The “epistemology” of slave narratives is looking at who is making these narratives and why. But time has shown that the slave narrative has been flipped on its head.

These writers fought back by establishing themselves their voices - these authors give us the chance to see a slave narrative not written by oppressors that aren’t riddled with offensive minstrelsy or hidden truths of what the reality during slavery was and could have been. While also having the characters in these stories use writing and or gaining knowledge as finding their personhood as black people in times of slavery.

(Honorary mention to Audre Lorde, Fredrick Douglas, Zora Neale Hurston and those who have written their narratives that have revolutionized narrative writing of the black experience)

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Within each of these stories everyone starts on a plantation.

In ‘Let Us descend’, Annis is always listening in on the teachers lessons at the house, picking and remembering things at the very beginning of the novel but later she is in constant communication with the spirit that helped her mother and grandmother; Annis begins to become more conscious about her circumstances comparing it to the stories she hears from the school lesson and the stories he hears from her mother. Annis’ mother tells her she comes from a lineage of warriors - the first time we see her she is wielding a weapon sparring with her mother who tells the story of her mother before her who was a warrior before she was taken across the sea during the first passage. a spirit who is named after her warrior grandmother follows her through the story trying to lead her “to safety” but she has been unreliable in the past when she traveled with her grandmother and then her mother; Annis knows that she doesn’t have to follow what others want for her but her own path. the spirit tries to leads her but the memories of stories of her ancestors carry her - helping her find her personhood. Annis defies the path of a slave going along with the story of the second middle passage. The book starts off saying she is a warrior, it’s in her blood and we see her not only deify the path she’s on but question it with passion. This story reframes the slave narrative as a warrior who doesn’t know who she is, who finds her way - which is not the typical slave narrative.

In ‘A Mercy’ we follow several slaves and the mistress & master who own them who have conflicting views on slavery; not caring for it but still have help and acquire slaves - justifying it to become more closer to whiteness as immigrants (still white). Our main character Florens in the beginning of the story is told to be a fast girl because she loves to dress up in woman’s heels but then is sold to this man when her mother gives her up to this man for safety but florens thinks it’s because she just wanted to get rid of her but their master in that house saw her developing as a woman. The man who she is sold to ends up passing away to a sickness, the mistress ends up getting the sickness as well. They send Florens to get a blacksmith to help who knows herbal medicine. Florens ends up falling for this blacksmith who is a freedman with a child. she was infatuated with him for a long time since the first time she laid eyes on him. she was tasked to get him so he would help the plantation owner mistress; while he’s away he tasks Florens to take care of his child. she ends up hurting the child by breaking his arm because she tugged him too hard. The blacksmith comes back and they end up in a fight. learning blindly loving doesn’t get you want you want; distraught, she writes a novel in a house with a needle; narrating her story on the walls in the hopes that someday the Blacksmith will read it. But the writing is used to release herself from him, growing from this experience. A Mercy is more literal - showing not only a deeper dive into a slave narrative that is so different with different perspectives on the morality of slavery through the master and then the behind the scenes of slaves, freedmen, and servants but shows the character herself writing her own narrative through her tragedy she just experienced with the black smith- though no one sees it.

In ‘James’, it is a story based on the adventures of huckleberry finn and follows Jim [unfortunately for me this wasn’t required reading in my schools]. In the novel, Jim is a slave who is very articulate and has to put on a mask of blackness which is mocked by white people in the ways of minstrelsy. Irony of blacks making fun of white people and whites using that as a way of shouting their propaganda of minstrelsy. He even teaches the children in his area how to read, write and distinguish irony. Jim becomes a runaway with huckleberry - who has run away from his abusive father who came back to town] because Jim doesn’t wanna be sold and separated from his family. Jim’s intellect is hidden by this mockery of blackness; He has these intellectual conversations in his mind with the people who are the “forefathers of thought/knowledge”. but once he gets a pencil from another slave he begins to write. it’s the start of his own narrative not written by the oppressors that can say anything but in his own voice. When black people find out he can Read and Write, they help him at the expense of their life because he’s like the chosen one. the man who decided to help jim because he had unwavering belief in jim, was whipped to death, just to get jim a pencil to write with. jim finds his autonomy at the end of the novel when he kills a man who rapes a girl, he has apathy when killing the white man who defiled that girl. But when he does so, he is not playing the role a slave, he his being the intellectual - he no long holds the mask that white people expect and the fear and confusion on the faces of those who find out of his true intellect is what truly completes the story. this flips the slave narrative on it’s head. Showing a man who teaches the youth how to read and the rules of irony for safety when faced against white people. He is the hidden truth in what it means to be intelligent as a slave for safety which is a story not told much. he also like Florens writes his own story which is so impactful because it is illustrating who he is, without interference of what he’s learned from whiteness - while carving out his own path in freedom by running away. (I won’t spoil the end of the book but it’s great!)

By the end of each novel they become their own autonomous person — as much as a black person can be autonomous at this time in the middle of slavery. By the end of these novels I’ve questioned the narratives written for black people by white people. These stories give me hope. ‘James’, ‘A Mercy’ & ‘Let us descend’ a hope of freedom. Not only through the stories but by the authors showing us slave narratives aren’t gruesome and just us be compliant in the shit show that was enslavement.

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We have to look at who is writing the stories, when and why. (W^3) It’s so important. There was a lecture held at my school where Percival Everett came to talk to us. A question he answered really spoke to me - I’m going to awfully paraphrase - He said that when looking at who’s telling these accounts in history we have to delve deep. There are people who talk just like you and me and the people interviewing them could always interpret the speech as the minstrel talk because that’s how they want to see us - just food for thought.

Writing is revolutionary and telling stories as black people is so important. you don’t have to rewrite slave narratives but flip the negative narratives about us because we are not what they claim us to be!

I enjoyed reading these novels and I suggest you read them too!

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TRIGGER WARNING! THIS POST CONTAINS VIVID PICTURES OF VIOLENCE AGAINST BLACK PEOPLE (THE DISFIGURED FACE OF EMMETT TILL, TRAYVON MARTIN, AND ERIC GARNER) VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

I show these pictures to make you uncomfortable; The reality is, this is happening and I refuse to let people clean up their violent actions by erasing the vivid pictures of those who have fallen. This is not trauma porn, But a wake up call. Please if you look at these pictures/videos, really look and ask yourself how it makes you feel and why. IF you don’t feel anything… WHY?!

I started to watch a youtube video as I ate; How the golden palace confronted america’s darkest symbol. It spoke about a lady who put up a confederate flag at the front desk of a hotel whose manager was a black man. The woman said it was her heritage and what happened in history is over; But for the black man it wasn’t over and she couldn’t gasp the daily lives of black people. When this was aired, Dec 4 1992 it was months after the rodney king riots and it describes the riots. I’ve never heard of this before today and have done some research to know a little more. The video then shows a black man being beaten by white cops, filmed by a bystander. Which was the inciting incident for the riots. It was shown over many news broadcasts and It was the first of its kind, where racial violence was seen on tv (video format) and went, in what some would call today, viral. The police officers were not convicted, they were not guilty for “assault by force”. Which led to the L.A Riots. The common people of the cloth, heard the verdict and It just wouldn’t stand. There’s no safety with police and they can lie even with video footage of them. They can do whatever they want because they will always be protected by the law because they make it.

This incident reminded me of emmett till. The way his mother had a open casket for him to see what the white devils have done to her boy. That too went viral in newsprint. And if you are anything like me, a girl who grew up in the US public school system, they don’t show you what they did to that little boy. At the ripe age of 29 I still haven’t seen the picture but for this I had to go look at his picture. I will put it below this because this is important to see. Just like his mother wanted.

Looking at this picture. SIDE BY SIDE. Makes me so hurt. That little boy is unrecognizable! The lengths people will go to hurt black people, children and all. But more importantly; How am I to protect to black men in my life because they will always be one random person’s bad day away from violence. I - can be one day away from violence. How, if I decide to have a family (which is a big if), will they be safe and how do you protect them in a world of anti blackness? Love is not enough when you go out into the world. and yes the ancestors will protect those who I love. It is just scary to send them out into the world. To just live in this world as a black body

I sit here deeply saddened by the atrocities happening to us. Everyday I am in school I find new things to be so upset about. I have cried so many times in this room, experiencing grief of my ancestors. And some atrocities have happened in my current time of living.

Everytime I see this picture I am on the verge of tears or bawling my eyes out. The intense emotions I feel are hard. It sits in my psyche, squeezing me. flashing these images and words in my mind, like I am strapped to a chair forced to look but this is all willing. My ignorance will not be my downfall

The virality of these atrocities in that time came with outrage with how new it was to see in those mediums. You never saw the beatings of black bodies on a mass scale like that; Brutal, disgusting, and heart wrenching. showing the villianhood of whiteness in 4k. But the impact of it being the first of it’s kind has paved the way for documentation of these atrocities.

Now a days, There’s a video of black bodies being assaulted at least every day. Not just to prove our everyday existence is full of fear of whiteness and their weird superiority complex but for the sympathy to get people to understand what it is we go through to potentially stop it from happening; To prove in the court of law that our experience did happen and it’s not a white man’s word over ours. Though, in many cases when it it brung into the court system, like rodney king and many others who have been harmed by white people in violent ways, those who are the perpetrators still end up getting away and having a future because white people rally behind them even in their wrong doings when it comes to their violence against black people.

Just like in the case of Trayvon Martin; the man who killed him WAS NOT FOUND GUILTY OF MANSLAUGHTER AND SECOND DEGREE MURDER of that teenage black boy and went on to sign tea and skittle packs which is a different kind of violence in of itself. mocking sick satirical action that needs to be highlighted and honestly people like this need to be taken away for a long time. Everytime they are in the wrong nothing is being done to them. They get away with a slap on their wrist and a weird notoriety with in white spaces.

Or like in the case of Eric Garner; A black man that was having a confrontation with NYC police officers who used a chokehold on him, ganged up on by several officers to tackle him on the ground; to end up with a knee on his neck. Where Garner repeated pleas of "I can't breathe".

Times like this, Where even when you see the video evidence it should make you go into the the streets and for a decent amount of people they did. But I believe as time has gone on and many black people are being seen constantly being hurt, there is a sense of desensitization that is happening towards that kind of media; and within our own community not just everyone else being tired of hearing black woes.

White people are trying to claim the term black fatigue. Which is them being open about being tired of blackness in a nutshell. Which is showing their racism and their general hate for us and the increasing popularity of black culture.

Even with what’s going on in Gaza (a Issue not rooted in Blackness in america). When it first started around 2 years ago (The public display of violence on social media), everyone was posting about it when they were seeing building being destroyed and body parts of children. But now everyone is back to their regular life’s not fighting about this cause they said they cared about 2 years later. They are still being bombed and displaced. From my knowledge the only safe place in gaza right now is being bombed and they are getting flyers from the sky to tell them to evacuate before their homes get bombed. But I see no one talking about that. or the school shooting that happened after the kirk the dirt was assassinated. Nor the 2 men that were lynched right after. Trey Reed and and Cory Zukatis (who we don’t know the race of).

My issue is no one is mad enough, no one is feeling intense feelings of anything… I need for these violent pictures and videos of these people to come out, just like Emmett Till’s mother did. I need people to see the mutilations of black bodies to come to the forefront, like when I see people from gaza pulling dead bodies from the rubble. as much as I know it hurts, and we want to preserve the memory of a loved one… But we need to see them hanging from the trees, to feel anger. We need to see the disfiguring that people have done with their bare hands. To know someone acted in violence to hurt someone so badly that it can’t be ruled as a suicide. Show Me the body! It is 2025 and people are still being hung from trees? do people think it’s not real because there’s no proof? or they can’t believe it? I just can’t believe people don’t care, I don’t want to believe people do not care…

Is it black apathy? Is it conditioning through survival? Does Desensitization Breed Passivity? I just don’t get why we are becoming so desensitized and not caring. We have no emotions and we have nothing to grasp to but surviving everyday… Or is this what the white man wanted? To be passive while slavery slowly creeps in and shackles us back to the dark ages…

My eyes have been open to the realness and different sides black people in america will take when it comes to their heritage. If you are black, you are african point blank period. It is not a choice, it is in your DNA. This is an identity you cannot choose to be, You already are.

I have come back to college to get this degree so in the future I may teach the youth blackness. My passion for blackness is why this is a goal I am striving for.

Shout out the the Black man that banked on me and my future to even get me to this point, without him I wouldn’t be in this dorm being able to give this experience and To continue to fight.

Last week has been a long emotional week. I am reading slave narratives for my african american lit class: Freedom Dreams; and right now we are reading Let us descend by Jesmyn Ward. This book is about a slave girl named annis going through the second middle passage and she’s connected to the spirits of the world who hold her ancestors memory. This spirit that has gone on 3 passages with her family lineage is a guiding spirit and usually comes when she is in remembrance of her mother or stories of her grandmother who was on the slave ships across the atlantic. The theme of remembrance is huge and what white people have done to make us less than to forget ourselves, just to be their cattle.

In class we talked about erasure and how the Evil White People purposely put us in the slave castle dungeons; packed with no food water, standing in feces and piss, before the sending us through the door of no return to get on the boat to the americas. A place that had no windows and where time and identity was lost.

we then talked about the tree of forgetting/forgetfulness where they would basically make slaves walk around trees to forget themselves before being taken on the boats to the new world.

I even remember hearing on tiktok that there was a well they made africans drink from where they were made to forget themselves after drinking. It is called, The attenuation well.

If all of this is not evil root work, I don’t know what is.

Later in class we watched the slave routes from 1660 to around 1860 on the site slavevoyages .org

I began balling in class; quietly of course. The amount of emotions I felt was overwhelming. Mostly anger and disgust. Turning around to see my class mostly white and not visibly black people, silence. NO EMOTION?! Even the black people didn’t have a reaction. When I left that day, I was more visibly angry that no one was as upset as I was, crying or anything. the biggest reaction was when my teacher brought up that they are trying to make slave ships into an theme park… It was mostly gasps and “WHAT!? that’s crazy”.

Is it the desentization? or is it just the erasure of history? It’s all of the above and probably other things as well.

While going with my white roommate to the library I picked up The black panther party graphic novel and read. She just wanted company and I haven’t even been to that part of the library. so I decided to just pick up a book and this one stood out to me. I never got a real history lesson on the panthers so this was a good starting point.

Reading this book radicalized me more. All they wanted was for black people to have equality and for white racist weirdos to leave them alone. so they began to protect and teach the community.

that’s a brief summary; But what stuck in my head was; what are you willing to do to protect your own people when everyone is against you? not only regular civilians but the government that plotted against them. SENT THE FBI because they thought black nationalism was a threat to their white country… Stopping the panthers good work by keeping members in jail and stopping programs and protections from happening for the community. silencing those who really could change our community. Sending in informants to make sure they can plant seeds in their head and break them from the inside out.

We need more black nationalism, Black power, Black excellence. People who agree on one cause and a solution to get us their collectively and everyone has to be on board..

Last night was really where I lost it. a conversation began when the topic of raven symone came up talking about how she’s american and not african american and my Bi-racial roommate, whose skin would pass a paper bag test; Definitely white passing with the features of an african woman, said that she agrees. She began to explain that her culture is american culture and not african culture, that the cultures she’s seen of africa is not the cultures of america and how there’s no connection to african heritage when all her family is american. That when you wear the flags and pendants it’s preformative. that no one should try and change her identity as an american. but is a proud black woman if asked. She says as she sits with her rich white boyfriend in our living room.

After our talk, making food and briefly trying to explain erasure and her not hearing it. I went to my room and I began balling tears, hyperventilating. I’ve never in my live met someone who says that they are black say they aren’t african american. On top of all the information I’ve learned this week about erasure. THEY FUCKING WON! I shouldn’t have to explain to someone who considers themselves black why it is important that we keep that heritage for being african alive.

I don’t know, maybe because that’s the point of slavery; to forget who you are so you can be a mindless sheep to work in their society (back then and now in our modern 2025). They didn’t even think of us a people but you want to be considered just american? If you are just calling yourself american you no better than the WHITE PEOPLE who say it, and they say it to enforce white supremacy; to make blacks and other minorities feel othered. Keeping african apart of your identity, venerates your ancestors who fought to continue to live during every step of slavery, segregation, jim crow. My biggest grip; WE DIDN’T CHOOSE TO BE AMERICAN!!!!!!!!! WE WERE STOLEN!!!!! Given the identity of black/negro (chattel) when we are african peoples. Some of our ancestors would rather be at the bottom of the ocean then to be a captured slave.

Where you are from/born is not choice (which can make you an american). But especially if your family was descendants of slaves, 85% of us have come from and are still in poverty, we don’t have a choice to leave, with everything that is stacked against us. We can’t even leave. When we do and create communities, they are burned down, flooded. Some are just plain killed by white people that think because we are no longer slaves, we don’t deserve to live and be in the country we built after they’ve gained their profit

It is not to say we aren’t americans, we have generations that go back hundreds of years in this country. We literally built this country. But to denounce the heritage, the people who made it even possible for you to even be here, is so disrespectful to their memory and legacy. My mind can’t even fathom.

How can you say you fight for blackness, was down for blm and the protests, fighting against the white racist right wing politics but feel like your heritage/identity is a choice… Thats a performance

The one person I want to speak to about this, has gone; but they were the only person that can understand why I am having such a visceral reaction to this.

I am not only saddened but angry. This is not black power; It’s erasure. This is not the community I want to be in if you can’t understand why keeping this alive is important. This is also not a safe space to be a black radical, but in history when was it ever safe to be a black radical. It is scary. No one I have come across has the same pro black views. So the talk of blackness is not had in the open. That should change, Immediately.

Though this is the point of being here. So that I can articulate myself, to be able to teach, to give little black children a chance to know who they really are. I never questioned who I was. I probably should have been questioning where I came from and why everything happened the way it did. But i’m here putting in the work!

I do not know defeat because I am the sword of burns. I have never known defeat.

To Worship - It has several meaning under religious notions. Outside of the religious context it means; the act of showing reverence and adoration for something or someone considered sacred or of great importance.

I was having a conversation with my boyfriend (Per-usual) and the topic of worship came up. I said I wanted to be worshiped. He asked me why should I be worshiped? I couldn’t really answer it at the time. My first answer was just because I exist which I still hold on too. Why shouldn’t you be worshiped? But the flaw in that is, then does everyone who exists worthy to be worshiped? Absolutely not. Individuals can sometimes be menaces to society; bring nothing but negativity and sadness. He then asked me to define Worship. Google and Merriam Webster gave me answers more aligned with religious practices and that is not the path I follow. I did do a little searching and combined what I saw. it is devotion and admiration to someone or something. He said to worship is to give you life up for this thing; to follow it to the ends of the earth. I’m defiantly paraphrasing. Then He asked again, What do I do to be worshiped? Showing up and existing isn’t enough; It is a give, take, give situation. I told him I had to think about it (Mind you, we are having this conversation as I’m watching him play elden ring, which might of been why I asked to be worshiped, the game has a lot of religious themes in it).

2 days have passed since that conversation and the next day when I thought of it. The only thing I could think of is; I should be worshiped for my voice, It is important and is going to reach people I never thought imaginable. Granted, I was never one to speak up in my life, always silenced by adults because it never felt safe to speak. Now as an adult I feel like that is an assimilation tactic so we don’t start a revolution as black people. silence is complacency, ignorance and safety; It’s like having on rose tinted glasses with cotton in your ear and a white mans hand over your mouth. People who are smart, educated, and loud about blackness will always have ears of people listening and people will follow if the masses are educated. Tho sometimes I feel like I don’t have the knowledge. More so, the quotable knowledge; People listen better when you can quote sources and bring them up. I was never a person that spoke from confidence and those who do that can be absolutely wrong and still go and sway those. I want people to know that I know what I am talking about. Anyway, My word is impeccable. It is needed.

Other things that came to mind is that I am the creator of the universe, of life. My boyfriend taught me that; I was never taught at a young age how important bringing life into this world is. As a person with a portal in my downstairs. I can literally create life and if that’s not something to be worshiped I don’t know what is. tho this isn’t to shame those without or those with portals who can’t bring life through. bringing life isn’t all there is to this world, you are still important otherwise but it does keep the world running. I believe that is worth worshiping.

Because I am devoted to my man. Point blank period. devoted to getting a better future for the both of us. Creating emotional safety and stability in times of crisis for us. Working on it constantly (even tho I am still learning and can and have slipped up; unlearning is hard, giving yourself discipline is even harder). I’ve personally never worked so hard in a relationship. I always had to just show up (and exist) which is probably why I answered the way I did, before actually thinking about it. Also in the past, if I didn’t like something I would have just left and kept it pushing. This relationship is worth fighting for. Love is worth fighting for! as cheesy as that sounds.

Because I bring childlike wonder. I am almost 30 but the wonder I have when exploring things I like or just the laughter I share with others. I’ve been told it is rejuvenating. I have an energy about me that people love to be around; It is safe and nurturing, soft and loving. I named myself on socials EthereallAuraa lowkey because of that. My aura is impeccable.

Because I honor my Ancestors. Learning the true history of blackness in the america’s and in africa. Because I am teaching about it, bring it up in my conversations that matter (Tho i need to be more assertive in my points). Because an alter was made for the one person who I hold near to my heart, who passed away. Learning about my family tree.

My list may be small but these things are of utmost importance. For those out here reading; Why should you be worshiped? Is it because you worked hard to keep your family together? or because you started a business that has generational wealth? Are you teaching the black youth what it really means to be black in this world? Tell me down below!

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Our parents are right! It is that damn phone - But they didn't account for their shitty parenting and the systems under white supremacy that are bringing our children into declining literacy rates and lack of socialization.

As much as people say touch grass; it is true but there is a deeper problem than just going outside - But going outside is a start.

Recently I realized I haven’t grown up emotionally because I wasn't taught these emotional skills. Bless my boyfriend's heart for his patience with me because he is getting the brunt of my emotional outbursts and still helping me and regulating himself within that - Get yall a man this great, because where would I be without him - he's basically re-raising me emotionally. We started a discipline challenge for the month of august 2025, to gain discipline and to stick with things. Aug 6, 2025, 6 days into the challenge I was ready to give up. The night before I came home to a my room semi flooded, mold under my desk and then my desk fell apart as I was trying to move it - literally shattering in my hands. I was not in the mood the next day to do my 2 walks, drink my gallon water, read a few pages of my book and write. When I tell you this man yelled at me to get my shit together and get it done. He did so with love and a demanding tone, not aggression.

Growing up sometimes when you don’t do something it’s met with violence. I've seen my father's emotional outbursts when I didn't do something and would just lie to get it over with or get out of it and not see repercussions (Which is probably why I lie a lot). He wouldn't explain to me why it's wrong or how to go about something in a specific way. So I've adopted his way of emotional attacks and avoidance. Also his lack of discipline, I’ve seen him talk about getting a house with a yard to grow his own garden but none of that came into fruition, I don’t believe he worked hard enough being the youngest of his family, he was given most everything, just like me (I am the first born daughter). I never had to work very hard for the things I recieved so there was a lack of discipline that trickled down to me. Which is even crazier knowing my grandfather, whom I never met, was a veteran.

My boyfriend loves me and shows me, in the way he shows up for me constantly, by creating this challenge, having patience with me in helping me. There's a level of trust here that I couldn’t get from my father growing up. I know My boyfriend doesn't even have to do this (but I believe I haven't been expressing my gratitude for him the best way possible which I am doing my best to flip it 180) and he still does because of the love we share. The belief this man has in me is unmatched and I'm not just doing this for myself I'm doing it for him, especially with all the work he's putting in.

After My mini break down, I did go out and do what I had to do so we could hang out after. Realizing that going outside actually helps my mood with everything happening in my life and that he's great and I should be showing more appreciation. He showed me 2 songs by Capital Steez - but the second song with the video is the one that hit the hardest.

Capital Steez is a black rapper from Brooklyn, NY who began to raise in consciousness surpassing his peers mentally because he was no longer brainwashed and could see the system. Then later killed himself on December 23, 2012 because he couldn't take it anymore; jumping from the roof of the Cinematic Music Group headquarters at the age of 19.

The video Free The Robots- made in 2012 - Steez is sitting in a dark room isolated and consuming media. Sometimes his peeps come through but for the most part he is alone - He starts to go crazy, His last line before the chorus says, “I ain’t havin it” as he shuts off the tv. He leaves to go outside and it's like a breath of fresh air.

The lyrics along with this video is also profound. He speaks about being watched and shoved this propaganda/media and we’re all blind to it. while god sits isn’t doing anything. the community is in shambles, kids are sugar high while adults are high on crack, making a quick buck while not sticking together while the world is in khaos. selling drugs are the only way to make it out unless you make it in rap. Which is the plight of Blackness.

Mom tell me I should let the Lord handle it
The arm of the law is tryin' to man-handle us
A man's world, but a white man's planet
And the doors are slowly closing
While we fallin' through the cracks of it

It's a shame that flippin' crack will be
The best alternative if you don't make it rappin'
These crack houses and trap houses are trappin' us in
And in the end we're gonna remain stagnant
I ain't havin' it

These are the most powerful lines in the song. At such a young age, He knew it was a white man’s world, yolking him up. Tying up the community to where there is no movement, it is all standing still, frozen in a time loop. once you realize that, you either stay complicit or escape in any way you know how. The line “I ain’t havin it” is him escaping.

My boyfriend showed me because it correlates to my situation on a micro personal level. Where I would just be inside consuming. We talk constantly how media shapes you and your ideals especially in isolation. That's how cults and hate groups start. Extreme ideals; things like Incels and groups of men/women haters. Racists that think it's ok, coonery being entertainment - I could go on forever. It makes you crazy because you are isolating yourself in a Echo chamber.

Tho the macro level of the media consuming your being, propaganda being forced to you to change your ideals and personality in a echo chamber is the overall message of the video is what’s important to talk about within society at this very moment.

I began to think about myself. I grew up on the computer/internet. I was constantly in front of a TV with my Nana who would watch her westerns and mysteries. But the internet was my intro into that echo chamber. Since I was bullied and usually by myself, I was on the computer. It was innocent, playing my computer games that came on cds. Pinball, the toaster game, roller coaster tycoon etc. I found the first piece of porn when I went on MS Paint and accidentally opened my father's photos and there was a naked black woman and then another one with some black man's erect penis. I would see his porn dvds and when he was gone I would watch them. I never felt anything down there but it was very interesting. When I was trying to find games on the internet, I believe it was on new grounds, I clicked an ad by accident and it brought me to a list of sites and I just clicked on the one that said games. It took me too a porn game site. I began to play when no one was home or when my Nana was cooking. I got caught once but that never happened again. When I was caught no conversation about it. Just; don’t do that again. I began to watch porn on my DS under my blanket at night.

I was in chat rooms pretending to be a 16year old when I was 10; Though my talking skills were not strong, so there was barely conversations. I was talking to men I shouldn’t have been. I remember I told my friends in middle school and they seemed concerned and it made me feel like I was doing something wrong. I'm hindsight, yes but no one ever explained why… I hear stories from women who have been groomed. It could have been me. Thank god it wasn’t, I never met these people at the age of 10.

getting into college, as an art major (Digital design and Animation) you see the actual divide of society. groups and clicks (Very highschool coded) that only want you to have their ideals for things to work - how people really view the world. An echo chamber in real life.

nowadays, people are in far right chat rooms, nazi’s have their own corner of the internet, racists (That wouldn’t say it to your face) are rampant on the internet. spewing their views of self isolation, Black hating, women/man hating and violence, that they believe should happen covered by “we deserve our own space and to be with our own kind” rehoric. You can literally enter a cult and not know it. You have these echo chambers where not only do they have a space to freely exist (When it is absolutely wrong), the algorithm sends it to you after 2-3 watchs whether you search for it or not. But after that now you are.

I am very much a reject the mainstream media (Movies, music, tv, etc), as it’s happening. I denied watching attack on titan for over 10 years because I thought it was too popular and watched it recently within the year. I’ve seen the part of the fandom that is weird and those who are great. Though I know, certain groups pick and choose the media they use to grab people in.

Literacy also plays a huge role. I was born in the 90’s and went to school early 2000’s. My high school was a college ready high school which i graduated 2014. Instead of doing the regents tests that are mandatory, we did essays and presented them. They taught us how to really look for information on the web, 2 -3 sources that weren’t Wikipedia, and if you do use it, go to the sources they used for that wiki page. Which I think they should of taken it a bit further and tasked us to go to the library to look for sources because that is a lost art (Recently I’ve been on Liberian tiktok and they explain what they do and alot of it is information archival (in short) and it’s literally their job to help find information for you). People do not search for things intentionally anymore. Who people are, what they’ve done, views on either side. critically engaging and researching is lost. Chat GPT and Google Ai is enough for fast information without a fact check.

The one thing the internet has done is brought people together to see experiences we would never know. What’s happening in Gaza and Sudan, is on a world stage that propaganda can’t hide. The unlawful killings of Black people everywhere. ICE in the USA deporting people of color. They can’t just throw us propaganda on the news and we believe it. Tho there are still echo chambers of hostile groups still existing; the internet is a place where information should thrive. you just need to know how to get around it.

I won’t forget socialization, It is a big one and something that has been on my mind for a little while. When you’re a child bullying is rampant. So let’s keep it a buck, Bullying stems from racism on top of that, there’s a lack of kindness and it leads to isolation in children, starting so young. Then in turn, leads them into these echo chambers of people “just like them”.

They say your parents are your first bullies… But why is that. In my black experience, It’s assimilation and during slavery, when they wanted to sell off little boys, their mothers would call slave masters their kids were dumb and stupid so they wouldn’t be sold. That carries itself in black households alot.

I believe bullying in schools started with the integration of schools. Grown white women yelling at black little girls and boys for wanting education and going to a white school. Then white kids would do it. Black kids that just wanted to fit in or not be bullied as much assimilated doing the same thing. Colorism played a bigger role than you realize. Light skin blacks, assimilating. Switching sides all together to not face the scrutiny of bullying by white people, because they look a certain way. bullying can be traced back so many ways for black people.

This bullying lead kids to go to the internet for a “safe space”. What they find is something way worse. Lies the perpetuate one experience that scared them forever; not knowing outside in the real world, not everyone is like that. Though I am being optimistic. Some people out there are awful but you have to have the decrement to not blame everyone for your one experience and make your whole personality around that.

Also, Parents - TALK TO YOUR KIDS AND ACTUALLY ENGAGE WITH THEM!! What they see and think about it? How it makes them feel and why. If they don’t know something tell them to research it and not just google it (the way my father told me to do) and help them do it as well; you’ll both learn something.

Lack of kindness, discipline and boundaries, learned from adults really set our kids up for failure. We stick them in front of screens expecting them to raise themselves. Now in this new digital age where everyone is on a phone, information is thrown left and right with no fact checking, we end up isolated in echo chambers that ruin our actual view on the world, Both kids and adults. Research and engage. GO OUT AND TOUCH GRASS IN DIVERSE AREAS (not trying to take over like gentrifiers in cities do but engage in community the actual world around you).

As a Black child you are expected to go to church. You learn verses before you know what it means to be a child. Indoctrinated into Christianity. When you grow up and start to question the righteousness of god, they try and cast you out. They villainize you for not blindly believing. Critically thinking with the things being put in front of you.

I can only remember 2 times where I went to a physical church. The first time, it was a church across the street from the projects. We went in one Sunday. It was so loud it hurt. I told my Nana I didn't feel good at all. She scooped me up and we never went back.

The second time I went to church I was left there by my other grandmother in New Jersey for "night school" ? I didn't understand what was going on, what was being taught. I just knew I wanted to go home very badly. And they didn't want me to leave... I never went back.

Me and my Nana would do service at my aunt and uncle's house most Sundays. Spending time with my cousin having family time. I never understood what was going on. Most times I would be sleeping and just getting tired. Then we actually got to sit at the table and eat bit bit before the 30 minute prayer. Tho unbeknownst to me while I was a child, my uncle was getting scammed by the missionaries they lived in the same house with and caused him a mental break down... They ended up leaving the house and he's never been the same since. I learned about this in highschool while my Nana was developing her dementia. So it was hard to get her to see him.

The most important day of my life was the day I became an atheist. I was either in middle school or elementary school. My mother was never in the picture and that's all I ever wanted. I put my hands together that night and prayed for God to bring her to me, so that we could be a family. But she didn't come. I soon later found out she was in jail for slanging dope( I didn't get the dope part until high school). She sent letters talking to me but what was I to say. I was already an awkward child who had a hard time communicating outside to my peers. What am I gonna say to ask adult, I don't even know. I never spoke to her, just a hi and bye in the streets and went with my Nana to our destination. no one encouraged me to do so either. But the day I realized she'd never come was the day I stopped believing. If she wanted to be there, she would make an effort, remove herself to be better for her children. But she couldn't, and I don't think she was ever capable.

As a child who use to get bullied a lot I use to come home and get on the internet. Kids would bully me for how big my eyes were and how bucked my teeth were. I began to feel ugly. Some how, some way, I ended up on a site that gave you spells to be pretty and I wanted to try it, of course. I wrote it down in my binder (it was a thick pink and black binder that had a speaker for music which was pretty cool). I remember my African auntie and my uncle came over. She ended up going into my binder and reading what I wrote. She pulled me aside and told me that that was wrong and that she would tell me Nana what I was doing. She didn't tell me why or what was wrong with what I was doing, just that I would be in trouble. I was so scared I never looked it back up. She bought me a Bible and it sat and collected dust on my shelf. That's was my first introduction into witchcraft.

In college I remembered this situation happened and since I was grown and no one can tell me I'm doing wrong and I'm not going to get in trouble. I just searched up witchcraft. Wicca is what I found and it was interesting. I found a black woman who was teaching the basics on YouTube. I cast my first circle, with the extensive research I was doing and I felt a little something. I can't remember what it was for. But ik I did it and closed the circle when I was done. I saw too many scary movies and shows of teenagers doing something wrong and inviting things to their home. We're black we don't want that.

I started calling myself a witch very covertly. I got my second tattoo saying there's a little witch in all of us. Because was all hold magic. Our existence is magical and profound.

In the last 2 years or so. I've been getting into real lying knowing my history as a Black American. Learning our roots from the south. Not just from Africa. Our origins may be from there but there were practices that we started here. Everyone called it spiritual practices at first but I later found out it was hoodoo.

And for those who don't know. HOODOO IS A CLOSED PRACTICE FOR BLACK AMERICANS. it is for us by us. It has many influences melded together like native and African and a bit of that European Christianity. Bleh... But that's what makes it us. For me I love calling it negro spirituals (not just the blues we make but everything around us that helps us prosper). that is exactly what it is. Finding out that even the things we do today comes from our ancestors surviving slavery makes me especially proud. It served a purpose and give life and purpose, Protection in hard times and love when people didn't think we were human.

So though I have the word witch on my forearm. It is what started my journey to get here to be who I am. I am a root worker, a conjurer. Ripped from the cloth. It skipped a few generations of word of mouth, tho actions sometimes speak louder but now a days it's getting lost. But I will keep it strong. Regardless of family disapproval. It is my heritage, My birthright, my rebellion, my strength, my love for my people.

I am still learning and still growing but I am glad to be here. Walking in the steps of my ancestors.

on July 29th, I went to an event with a girl I met the year prior. We’ve been planning to hang out but due to life and personal circumstances, We haven’t went until now. The event was a Mid year check-in, Journaling session where we talk with others on how it’s going. The event was great but for myself I was very reserved and not talking as much with people. I didn’t share my writings publicly. Most of what I was writing felt really sad and dark. I am trying to come out of that place [as you know if you read my last journals; a creactives plight and I can’t escape] by have gratitude and trying to lead with love. But Sharing made me uncomfortable, also I think this room filled with different walks of black life, some more experienced than others, giving advice with a certain kind of care. scared me? Made me compare… Made me feel like I wasn’t anywhere near the level of these women who some have businesses and are working endlessly day and night to make their passion come through. whether that is community building , art, or making sure that their family is well off, it is something worth striving for, they have the drive and passion to really get it started. I question if it was anti blackness or if it was something deeper…

After the event, I immediately called my boyfriend because I just felt… weird? we we’re talking for about 3 hours. and since he’s a therapist in training, always diagnosing me. He asked 3 questions that I want to ask the collective too;

What do you care about?

What do you hold yourself accountable for?

What are you willing to struggle for?

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My immediate answer was No. He says I don’t give myself enough credit because I am willing to struggle for my relationship, that I hold myself accountable within it all the time and I care about. And the same goes for my blackness. but deeper than that, he spoke about me being sheltered and not having the drive, determination or ambition. “you like things, but you never fully go out and get it. you’re like a spoiled rich kid that hasn’t had to work for anything without the money”. I definitely went to sleep on that. But I have been thinking about this alot but very fleeting, about how I don’t have ambition because I saw no one in my life lead with it. Now thinking about it, it’s not just that, I’ve never had to be disciplined in anything. If I wanted something I would get it, and I guess a kind of comfort has come from that. My father always told me, School is your job. Not trying to push me into programs I wanted to do (never asking), not telling me I should take things serious. Not giving me a road map to earning the life or things I want. The things I did get into was because my friends wanted to do extracurriculars. I did soft ball, I was bought a glove. I did basketball, I got air forces but then immediately stopped. It was nothing I cared about so I never stuck to it. But I also didn’t know you had to work hard to get it if you loved it. I think the defining moment of my childhood was when my father told me he was so glad that I got good at art. I feel like I bring this up all the time, but I think around there and my nana’s decline, it didn’t feel the same. art was an escape and then feeling like it was the only thing I was decent at that I did put in time to learn. I had to use it to make money and that’s always felt weird.

My boyfriend said I am in a state of arrested development. In short I have to Grow up and gain some discipline. If I want things out of life, I have to go get it. But we have to start with developing discipline. He’s drafted a daily routine for me for the month of august (Just a man that cares) and I want to add something to it as well. Reading books. I have to change the way I read when I feel like I need to take note because I stop every 2 sentences. Granted the book I was trying to read is a little dense. But I want to read more (And Give you guys my little book reports, I feel like I’m actually engaging in things I like so it is more enjoyable to read. I did go out before work to read and it made me so happy and the book I was reading, I felt so many parallels to my own life and the black men I’ve interacted with. It makes me proud to engage with black media I can reflect on). I also want to be able to verbally articulate how I feel, what’s going on and I realized being at that event, that’s hard for me… verbalizing what I mean so that everyone can understand. I’m also a overthinker. I just have to start doing. which I think I am having a good start, I started constructing this painting I’ve had in my mind for a while. but since I want it to be raised in a 3d space, I’ve started on that and i’m so proud of myself.

I think before he even said anything about my discipline I’ve been thinking about it and kind of brushing it off do to me physically and mentally going through it. Something that is taking the life and energy from me, but now I am willingly giving that away; And for the first time I’m really posed with, what are you going to do with the rest of your life and how are you going to make it happen? I’m also gonna be working on caring about things outside myself… coz I tend to be a individualistic person and that has come with it’s own problems, with being sheltered and spoiled.

People call me Aura for a reason, but my insides don’t match the mask i’m performing with. I am constantly wanting to see what things are but never setting myself in one spot to really do anything. I’ve just been flowing in the river letting it take me wherever it wanted. We’re taking control and Getting something done!

How would you tell someone who has never had discipline, to start? How do you keep yourself disciplined? What is a discipline practice that you stand by? When you fall off, what do you do to get back on track? do you have influences for your discipline?

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My Goal this summer is to read more black authors and books that are black lead; History and biographies of those who have come before me and shook the table with their presence of blackness. For my first book of the summer. I choose something short and very impactful.

The book Phenomenal Woman, is composed of 4 poems by the great Maya Angelou; Phenomenal woman, Still I Rise, Weekend Glory and Our Grandmothers. These 22 pages have impacted me so much this week. I am deeply grateful that this is my first read from Maya Angelou.

I try to critically engage with my texts, so i’ve read this book a few times. Reading over each poem at least 3-5 times to really sit with me. I have to know what these poems are trying to tell me and what it is asking of me as a person in this world and specifically a Black woman in this world. These poems by Maya Angelou ask me; Do I deem myself phenomenal? How do You enter rooms? How do I hold myself when things circumstances and people are against me and my being? Am I being resilient? Am I being Bold? Am I rising from fear? In our day to day are you taking time out for yourself? Are you grateful for the life you live? Are you honoring the people that have come before you to give you the life you’re living now?

So many questions posed from just 22 pages. It all starts with our first poem.

The poem Phenomenal woman, starts with maya being questioned by pretty women; asking where her secret lies. Then explains up and down how she is phenomenal to her core. She talks about self; how you are phenomenal, how your physical being is so intoxicating people don’t know why they are flocking to you. They think you’re holding a secret when your spirit is just so bright.

At first, I thought she was just talking about our womanly assets that make us phenomenal. The first page reads;

“It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

the curl of my lips.

I’m a woman”

It is so much deeper than the physical attributes of our body. It is something in our soul, our essence that we can’t teach or describe to people who do not understand, but flock to us like honey bees to flowers.

“Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery

When I try to show them

They say they still can’t see

I say,

It’s the arch of my back

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me

Now you understand

just why my head’s not bowed.

I don’t shout or jump about

or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.”

It’s also a type of pride in the person you are. The body you inhabit and soul you’ve come down with; Godly in essence. I asked myself; Do I deem myself phenomenal? How do You enter rooms? Is there confidence leaking from my soul? No was my first thought; And I think that should change Because what do you mean as a black woman you don’t feel like god’s gift to this earth?

In my personal life, I feel stuck. In an environment that doesn’t serve me and that brings me immense fear. In turn, I feel as though it is stifling my confidence & how I see myself. All Mental and trauma induced. But starts with those morning affirmations. Which I’ve been slacking on. But I am Phenomenal is going up there first.

Our second poem, still I rise; is an ode to the resilience black people have had for centuries. Through all the pain we make our experiences shine like glitter diamonds. and Those who cast us into these positions become angered because we are not suffering like they want us too; And that says more about those people than it does us.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

My head is raised and I still won’t let whatever it is get to me in my soul. you can pierce me with vile looks but my life is not determined by hate or sorrow. 400 years and we’re still surviving and enjoying our lives.

one of my favorite lines is;

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

YES! I am what the slaves dreamed for. This kind of “freedom”. Though it is still a fight coz in the USA it is not truly freedom, its blocked by White supremacy and patriarchy. But still an advancement from the days of picking cotton or even the civil rights movement.

Even just bringing it back as Black Women as a whole and not the whole black populous. In our everyday people look at us like we do not deserve the life we live. we are underneath the barrel of pickings and we still go home and laugh and create life we want despite evil trying to seep its way into our hearts.

This poem asks me; How do I hold myself when things, circumstances and people are against me and my being? Am I being resilient? Am I being Bold? Am I rising from fear? Am I exercising the freedoms given to me by those who have come before?

Short Answer: No. So how do I honor my ancestors. How do I rise from the things I feel are holding me back? How am I Being Bold? What does resilience look like to me? Definitely a journal worthy topic and requires several pages of actual introspection and thought.

The third poem, Weekend Glory ; Tells the tale of just a regular working woman. Maya starts out saying those people with all their glitz and glamour have on masks and they don’t know how to live right. the way to live is on a saturday night. bills are paid, hair is done, out with the girls to meet their men, they spend their night at the joint listening to jazz and blues.

My absolute favorite line is;

My life ain’t heaven

but it sure ain’t hell.

I’m not on top

but I call it swell

if I’m able to work

and get paid right

and have the luck to be Black

on a Saturday night.

She is just grateful for what she has; Her Blackness, getting money, bills paid off and a night of fun with her peoples every week.

At the end of this, I ask myself; In our day to day are you taking time out for yourself? Are you grateful for the life you live? The immediate No takes me aback. I am grateful for the things in my life but I feel as though I do not show my gratitude often. How can you show it when you are complaining all the time? Are you really taking to the time to enjoy yourself and the life you’ve been given? I truly feel like I haven’t been; and I want to embody that!

Our last Poem, Our Grandmothers; is the longest and most impactful. maya takes us through slavery where a woman is trying to take her babies to freedom while reciting the lines, “I shall not be moved”.

She lay, skin down on the moist dirt,

the canebrake rustling

with the whispers of leaves, and

loud longing of hounds and

the ransack of hunters crackling the near
branches.

She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward
freedom,

I shall not, I shall not be moved.

She gathered her babies,

their tears slick as oil on black faces,

their young eyes canvassing mornings of madness.

Momma, is Master going to sell you

from us tomorrow?

Yes.

These are the first lines of this poem, written like a story. This woman is trying to get her and her babies out during this time of slavery. They are scared but very aware of what is going on and what is going to happen. Their mother is going to get sold but they keep moving.

She heard the names,

swirling ribbons in the wind of history:

nigger, nigger bitch, heifer,

mammy, property, creature, ape, baboon,

whore, hot tail, thing, it.

She said, But my description cannot

fit your tongue, for

I have a certain way of being in this world,

and I shall not, I shall not be moved.

With everything vile being done, nothing will move her to anger. Not even the iniquity cast upon us (I learned the word Iniquity from this book. it is extreme wickedness, immoral or grossly unfair behavior. Don’t you love learning new words). This reminds me of the childhood saying; Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me! I shall not be moved by words used to try and control and sedate me.

Into the crashing sound,

into wickedness, she cried,

No one, no, nor no one million

ones dare deny me God. I go forth

alone, and stand as ten thousand.

The Divine upon my right

impels me to pull forever

at the latch on Freedom’s gate.

The Holy Spirit upon my left leads my

feet without ceasing into the camp of the

righteous and into the tents of the free.

This definitely speaks to the faith black people have. But the Line “I go forth alone, and stand as ten thousand”! Means so much. Not only is God (The universe whatever you want to call it) is by her side, but to me I saw this as, the ancestors of many pasts are there with her. She may be physically alone but she has spirits behind her. Those who she remembers and those of a long past before. Those who have not been moved.

Maya begins to list names of modern influential women. Harriet tubman, zora hurston etc. then exclaims that these women are at your grocery stores, on line for welfare, going up to the abortion clinic. Women that will not be moved.

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The book Phenomenal Woman really asks us at its core; What is Phenomenal about your life and how do you show and appreciate that? Especially within Blackness, since we are taught to hate ourselves and the people we come from. Feel burdened by our situations that are suppose to break us down mentally and spiritually. We do not appreciate our day to day enough. We do not Honor those who came before us that has given this life to us. Are You standing for something or are you docile and met your demise? We need to change our out look and really think about what means to be Phenomenal, in both a casual and extraordinary way.

Though, these stories center women, this can be applied to all; She, He’s, They's, Gays and everyone in between. But you should take it upon yourself to tell the black women, especially elders, in your life that you love them and that they are phenomenal just for existing. Appreciation goes a long way!

I loved this book and since it was so short, it was a good read to kick off the summer! I hope my other reads are just as good and as impactful!

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I used to be up until 4 am drawing. I used to spend days working on sewing a garment. I used to daydream my own personal headcanon AU story of the akatsuki and danced around my room like I was on a stage in front of thousands of people. Now I go to work & bed rot. I cry endlessly about the past. I mindly scroll & watch others do the same thing I used to do. Create and live. I have become a shell of the person I thought I was. If my younger self saw me, she wouldn’t recognize the woman in front of her is her shadow.

Where did my mind of wonder and whimsy go? Do I even love this anymore? did I ever love this to begin with?

Art was my gateway, I started writing mini stories. Just paragraphs of childhood experience. I wrote poetry at school; That adults thought was too deep for 9/10 year old to produce around the subject of my mother who left me. I started drawing because of my neighbor. I laugh about this now but she was so cocky then I just wanted to up show her. She was my gateway into anime. I watched naruto for the first time at her house. I remember it was on toonami and it was the movie where there was a film in the village. I was introduced to jak and daxter and my all time favorite game in the world to this day; Kingdom hearts. Her brother would play and we were only allowed to watch. Tho at home I would be conducting mini experiments, trying to build with popsicle sticks, making clothes for my stuffied babies.

The start of the decline was when I was transitioning from the hell that was high school into college. My grandmother was slowly deteriorating mentally and my father had just made a comment to me about my art, “I’m so glad that you got good at this” in a happy but disapproving way? Like if I didn’t improve he’d say I was wasting my time? I continued to go to college for art, no one was gonna stop me. I thought I wanted to be an animator for disney. When I never animated anything in my life.

At home My father invited a beast in sheep’s clothing into our house. They would say one thing to his face and when I overheard them when they thought they were alone, their true feeling were spit out. Manipulative and narcissistic in tone, like we owe them anything. And the man I thought was my protector continued to protect a shapeshifting beast. I felt like I was being ganged up upon, in the castle i’ve been born within. One Day this beast strikes me but they end up the victim in this situation. Mentally I don’t think i’ve been the same. betrayed, alone and traumatized; But I didn’t know that yet. I did feel the fester of Anger I’ve never felt. It was as tiny as a pin then, but I couldn’t feel the drops of blood that leaked out.

Life set in when I got out of college and spent a year not working because I didn’t know what to do and I had to help take care of my nana. I was not set up to even know how to go through the process of getting a job. I managed to figure it out all myself. But by then my nana was put into a home for older people because my father couldn’t take care of her anymore. i.e. the beast complained about her because they couldn’t take it.

Covid Hit. I couldn’t see my nana often, I was an essential worker making a little bit of change for my first job but home wasn’t safe. once a space I could create in feely was taken from me, with strangers sleeping on my couch for years at a time. men that make you uncomfortable coz they are half naked and facing your door. The beast using them as threats and my father defending all the lies and nonsense whispered in his ear at night. I went through an abortion alone. Everything felt as though it was crashing, I wasn’t safe in my own home and I felt alone. Isolating myself into insanity. That is not a time I like to look at coz I wouldn’t wish that to the people I love and care about. The filth around me piled as I shut myself into a box of my own despair.

In this time, I couldn’t create. When I did, it was just to pass the time. not because I felt like I had something to say. I removed myself from that and went on a 2 year adventure of existing and trying to figure out the person I am. Art came and went. In some cases I really wanted to draw or do something grand but I had no space or materials. I let that stop me from trying. Focused on the reality of surviving. Not working, spending all my money running away constantly.

After running away for so long, I had to come back home where the beast still resided. It took a while for my father to see my plight and he understood it, but Still give this beast and their offspring solace in my castle. Giving them grace, I felt they did not deserve. Not Under the roof that was only meant for my family.

Still I reside, Dealing with fear and underlying panic whilst hate in my heart grows. Trying to become a person who can exist on my own, not just physically. My Mind has been consumed with these interactions, unhealthy and unproductive. I hate it. This space is not sacred to express myself fully. when I did, I was shut down. So when I’m here I am mentally blocked. The winter months are especially hard with nowhere to go when you are unemployed. every creek makes your heart jump. voices that stop you in your tracks and fear glues you the floor and creates a pit of quicksand.

A hand appeared to me to help me and it was my boyfriend. Though he pulled me out and set me on a path of success, my mind was still sinking. Taking it out on him and not even knowing, the person I had become was nothing I ever seen before. Having to step back he helped me as long as I asked but I had to do the work too.

Now I am going to get my Bachelors at an art school and I am waiting to get my dorming information. while I am still in a environment that is not conducive with my well being I have something to look forward to. I have been sporadically creating & mending. not just physically but in my soul and I have someone to ground me. I am beginning to know myself and my morals. Standing firmly in them and doing so within creating.

I am still struggling but I am finding more peace and living within it. I think when I started reading books my mind expanded. Intellectual conversations with my boyfriend, affirming me and my intelligence make me feel like I am on top of the world. Taking accountability for my actions and the role I play in others lives. Truly becoming and not just saying that.

I think finding Substack was the best thing. I’ve been wanting to write a blog for a very long time. But who wants to actually code and design their own website. I did try watching tutorials but I just didn’t get it. So, Sub stack here I am! Sharing my thoughts is hard. When I was little the adults never valued what I had to say and just wanted me to be silent. So I unconsciously carried that. My writing feels like I am reclaiming my voice. I am scared all the time though, I don’t wanna offend or make people feel away. And I’ve been on the internet long enough to see people get doxed and destroyed for saying their opinion, often loud and wrong. or when you change opinions, you are told to be the same. Which is why for most of my time on the internet, I observe. But I want to Speak more.

This was my first love. The inner child in me is crying so hard.

As an intermission. I started writing this journal entry a few days ago. Yesterday I felt as tho I Relapsed into a head space wasn't in for a very long time. I had a really bad panic attack but leading up to that the days felt like they were dragging while my anxiety hit a new high. I panicked so hard, None of my techniques didn't work. Taking deep loud breaths, naming 5 things in my vicinity, the only thing I didn't do was let it consume me.

But My issues with all of this. This situation, the monster is still here. People tell me everyday; It'll be over soon. It's been years of being told that. How much more time will I have to wait? I am being silenced by legal issues which for me feels very anti-black. The panic has set in even more because of that. My feelings are valid and I know I have to continue to live life and not let this effect what I have going on. I'm going back to school and trying to live a fulfilling life with my boyfriend and unlearn somethings that have been hindering me. But this is the biggest thing that is troubling in my life. I worked so hard to run away but now I'm back again and I can't run away. I always think about going into a shelter. But I feel like I am taking a space for someone who actually needs it.

I feel like my safety not just physically but mentally has been compromised. This feels like torture. Like a cage within a labyrinth where the monster can be lurking behind every corner. You hear it's breath, deep and guttural. You feel it in your chest by the way your heart begins to pump faster. Your body begins to tremble starting from you finger tips while your legs feel as heavy and cinder-blocks, arms frozen in place.

I'm sick of this feeling. Thinking about would could happen after, how I would feel, hasn't been enough. I know what the feeling is like. I've had dreams affirming me. But Right now that is not my reality unfortunately. But the feeling of being free feels so lost to me but I know when I get it I will blossom.

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Slowly but surely, I am getting back to self. To be the creative my mind knows I am. I have the ideas but we need to execute. Regardless of the lack of space. gaining knowledge that inspires me to create.

This is where I am at, Waiting. Trying to take up space. Exist Freely. Create unapologetically!

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I miss spaces that have been unapologetically Black. Full of those of Melanated decent creating love in moments you’d think imaginable. Laughing through the pain, Joy of the most high.

Recently in the last year or two, I’ve moved more into white spaces for work, which has become my main interaction with the world socially. The stark contrast of moving from Black majority populated spaces to white majority spaces actually is jarring and my boyfriend made some comments the other day to me that really took me aback. I was talking about school because I’m going back to college and some people I’m working with went to the school i’m currently enrolled in. I was bring up that if we’re all ending up working at an art supply store with a bachelor’s degree, What chances do I have? and these coworkers are white. he called these people my friends and that he didn’t wanna hear the experiences of White people. Though, it was just for context to show where a degree can still land you in minimum wage retail, I think there is a very huge point that I had to sit with. I am spending 8 hours a day, with these white people, interacting with white customers for my retail job. I go home just to do it again the next day. I rarely interact with my Black friends, we don’t hang out (That’s it’s own issue), the only other Black person I actually interact with is my boyfriend and we’re long distance. So i’m very alone in my personal life surrounded by enemies. No Black joy in sight.

Within my work life I’ve also noticed something that now kinda bothers me. I have phrases I say throughout my life, they change on what media i’m consuming or what i’m interacting with. Non Black people tend to mimic me and think my speech is entertaining in a HAHA funny way? I could be dragging these situations but last night i was deeply disturbed; like am I a minstrel to you?

The first time It happened I was working in the city and that was the first place where there were more White people I’ve ever had to interact with in a work setting. My manager, POC (From the middle east) started to take a liking to how I was using the word hello. I use it with different tones and cadence to express several different emotions without having to say full sentences. This didn’t really bother me at all, coz even my friend was doing it sometimes too.

What bothers me more is now at my new job where my manager is a white woman, it feels like she’s mocking me and i don’t like how she feels comfortable doing that. Especially off the conversation we were having about big pharma and vaccines. I brought up medical racism and I was absolutely dismissed and was told she doesn’t think it’s just black people having poor medical service it’s just the industry trying to get money. But if she would listen or pick up a book, all this is happening because of white people. If you really want to talk about how medical discovery was big on just trying to prove black people were inferior though science. They did ungodly experiments to us, guise by science and medical studies. They teach people that black people have thicker skin so they don’t feel as much, and just the blatant dismissal of black people when they just appear in the office, They don’t even wanna service us. Let’s not even talk recently a dead black woman has been used as a incubator because she was pregnant and they used this woman as an experiment under the guise of anti-abortion… Like the dismissal of something that actually matters, then the blatant copying of my speech for your own entertainment… rubs me the wrong way.

It made me think i’m giving too much access to them, particularly the pro blackness I am deep within and all I want to do is speak about it. But in turn I am literally surrounded by them all day because we have to work to survive, my community is being swallowed up by gentrification. I also don’t have a close knit Black community behind me to escape to in my real life to talk to about these things; racial injustice, white rage and how to create space for blackness, etc. I’m starting to become really uncomfortable at work. On top of that, working at an art supply store should be fun, I should not know everyone’s drama nor do I want to continue on this anti men hate rhetoric that’s going around. I don’t know about you, But my man is great and he takes care of me in so many ways. I get it, the experiences you’ve been through frame those specific men in a bad light, they’re trash humans, I GET IT… but it’s not all men. don’t treat them like a disease. I’ve had men in my life help me more than women. Not to mention some of them come to me to validate the racism they hear at work…? like I just work here. If you see or hear something wrong, actually call them out on it and stand on that shit. Are you looking for me to fight the fight for you? or just just want to be patted on the back for pointing it out? either way, I don’t want to be involved…

I am tired of white spaces. I do not feel comfortable

I want more Black spaces. I want Safe spaces. Deep Black thought. Radical Blackness. Dismantled whiteness. Black Joy. Black Freedom.

before the clock strikes midnight, I thought I’d indulge in a short story; I.e. My computer didn’t want me to watch youtube videos, socials have been hella dry lately and my trackpad wasn’t working at all on my laptop, so i decided shut off the phone & computer and read one of the many books I have. I did go through some of my books and the one that stood out to me the most was; Centers of the Self: Short Stories by Black American Women from the Nineteenth Century to the Present.

The way in which I got this book was actually so cool. I was on a mission to go to the used book store on my break that’s a few blocks away from my job, to see what new black history/ black experience lead books they had. I get to the corner of one of the cross streets, My eyes light up when I see 3 stoops of books. Guys; THREE STOOPS OF BOOKS! In Nyc that’s kind of a big deal. people put their books out on the stoops when they wanna give them away but don’t want to throw them away (My issue with that is when it rains… what are you doing with the books? I’ve seen some books left out to get destroyed, that could have been put in the community book shelves they’ve started to put up or donate them; but I digress). I was on the phone with my boyfriend and I was like; what the fuck?! the universe really wanted me to get some knowledge today. I rummage through all 3 stoops, and I’m the only person doing it. I come across; A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, Centers of the Self: Short Stories by Black American Women from the Nineteenth Century to the Present by Judith A. Hamer and Martin J. Hamer, Now Let Me Fly by Dolores Johnson (A children’s book about slavery), and The New Baby by Mercer Mayer (The children’s book with the little beavers, I got it for my niece). I think these were solid pick ups and especially for free and especially in a very white neighborhood.

So, I picked up this book and started flipping through it. stopped on a chapter called; The Gilded Six-Bits (1933) by Zora Neale Hurston. When I tell you I’ve been seeing her name and just people talk about her being an influential author. so many times I heard her name today. I was like, this is a sign. This is the story i’m going to read to occupy my mind.

SPOILERS - **My thoughts during this recap are in Italics

The story starts off with a black family. a wife; Missie May and her husband Joe. They live in a very white picket fence area in a nice house. They have a daily routine of chasing each other when he gets home after she tells him to stop throwing money at her front door. It’s very loving gesture with a pinch of lust. When she catches him, She takes the money from his pockets then everything else in the other pockets that he purposefully left for her. and honestly that was so cute, small gestures like that, I love. They end up eating dinner she cooked and joe brings up there’s a ice cream shop owned by a big black guy who just came down from chicago. He talk’s about his gold and how he flaunts it, all in hi teeth and watch. they ain’t never seen a negro with gold. talks about all the women he gets too. missie questions him, coz how u know this and you only had one conversation with him? she said, “His mouf is cut crossways, aint it? Well, he kin lie jes lak anybody else” (Pg 113). Of course we getting that black women intuition. on the next page she says, “ Joe, Ah hates to see you so dumb. Dat stray nigger jes tell y’all anything and y’all b’lieve it” (Pg 114). They still end up going to the ice cream shop, chopping it up. Missie ends up very enthralled with the gold he wore, saying it would look so much better on joe and they could go looking for some that some white people dropped. But they ain’t got none no ways. Joe says he’s fine with the way things are.

About a week goes by and Joe is coming home from work. This night he noticed the moon riding the river’s edge and it just reminded him of how much he loves Missie May and He wants kids soon. He wanted to surprise her with a hug from behind, he crept into the kitchen and knocked over some plates; but something was off… he heard rustling and then silence from his bedroom. IMMEDIATELY RAN TO ACTION!!! Thinking his wife was in danger. but caught the ice cream owner man with his pants at his ankles and his wife on the floor crying. Joe tells the man to pull up his pants and he beats him up and takes his gold watch/chain. not violently like he should have, but I assume he got away. we don’t hear about him anymore. Missie is sobbing talking about I know you don’t love me no more and joe is asking why. The man said he’d was gonna give her the gold money and kept after her. assuming He was trying to make her do things she didn’t want, but it’s never said they had sex. But I feel like she was tempted just to get her man what he deserves.

From here the relationship is not the same. missie feels like she need to disappear coz she is not worthy, she doesn’t even get up to make breakfast until Joe says something. She believes he never coming back. but they never left each other. He was still kind and aloof in Missies Eyes. 3 months go by and Joe starts to complain about his body hurting and this is the first time they’ve touched each other since the day of the incident. Baby, they was getting at it after that, In very few words; “Youth triumphed and missie exulted” (Pg 118). the next day Joe left the gold piece he took on the bed, missie finally gets to see it though she was scared to. Devils gold. She found out it was a gilded half dollar. relieved and feeling like her punishment was over. Though, she thought he tried to pay for her love and prove he can pay better than the icecream man…

Maybe 9 months go by Missie gives birth to their child. Joe seems distant and not ecstatic Like I would assume men would be for their first child, giving very nonchalant. He ends up going to the market to the candy store to get molasses kisses. he pays it with the four bit coin; The gilded half dollar. the clerk asks him how he got it, he tells him a stray negro had on his watch chain, tellin everyone it’s gold, trynna steal ppls wives from their homes. the clerk asks if he got him and joe responds; No sirr, he tried to come with his smart talk and he knocked him down and took his four bits. and that he’s gonna by his wife kisses, then asks for 50 cent worth of them. when joe leaves. the clerk says he wishes he could be like those “darkies”, laughing all the time with no worries. Joe goes home to throw 15 cents at the door.

That is where the story ends

When I tell you this story made me feel love, confusion and sadness. The beginning showing their relationship. Happy to be together and making it fun for them. It really showed the type of love blackness is, sweet and simple. Something I strive for in my own relationship, and it actually made me think about my interactions in my relationship. Joe didn’t do too much and she took care of him when he got home from work. He wanted to show her off. Tho I think for the wrong reasons right, Male ego… Showing your wife off to a man that claims that women are all over him. I think that’s extremely weird, to be honest.

But let’s be honest Missie Called it from the jump. How you know he ain’t lyin joe? You just met him; it feels like a pissing contest amongst men.. but the next thing that got me was Missie saying they could go out there and find some gold coz she just wanted he man to have some gold. Yes we want our men to look good, but at what cost? She kinda fumbled, instead of talking with joe. She went behind his back to talk to that man and try and get some and he was willing to slut her out, knowing she’s a married woman. Though he’s obviously did this several times before. It is not written whether or not Missie took part in the sexual acts so that was a little confusing. but whether she did or didn’t Joe stayed. Why tho? He never speaks up after this incident. Does he not want to go back to his mother’s house? or it’s the black reality of shoving things under the rug to appear like a happy family? which I think might be the main theme. Sweeping things under the rug so people don’t tell you I told you so? His mother didn’t really like missie but was there for the birth of their child. saying I didn’t like her much coz of her momma but she turned out great and gave you a baby. which also brings to question are you just like your parents? can you ever shake that image? but hiding struggle from the public coz you don’t want that srutinity, people already don’t like black folk and they hear a story about them being weak and getting their woman stolen from them? Laughing stock…

This story is so interesting and complex. The way Hurston Write dialogue?! Like I literally was there in the 1930s. The timeline is a little confusing coz sometimes its 3 months then a few weeks or next saturday. but that’s my only gripe. But this story, I could see myself in missie. The love that showed at the beginning was my favorite, hands down. but the conflict of men ego and missie just wanting more for her man. I get it, but you should have trusted that intuition and tried to figure out how to get it another way, but again, he was the only flashy negro around. taking advantage of that woman who just wanted to give something to her man, disgusting… Actually, Off With His HEADDD!!!!! I think joe should have killed him. but that would have been more trouble than what it was worth coz he’s just a honest man who loves his wife. But I think after that point Joe is broken in so many ways but can’t express that or feels like he shouldn’t. Black men that have a hard time speaking up, this is for you. We want to know how you are feeling, the more you hold it in; you start cracking from the inside. Feel your feelings; DO NOT ACT UPON THEM. Black men, we Love you.

Also, I’m not too sure what rekindled their relationship… I think it was just sex but he was still acting weird till the end. sex was definitely the gateway but I don’t think they even had a conversation about it they just kind of assumed everything was better after the sex and they began to have sex more frequently… Sex does not fix all wounds and neither does having a child… hiding behind a mask doesn’t help either. Tho, I digress. But it was so cool just seeing a black family dynamic, tho it got kinda messy in the middle. was the message love survives all? I def can get behind that. But that underlying sadness of a broken relationship kinda sticks with you… and I can relate to that.

solid 8 1/2 outta 10 honestly.

Surrealism is often dream-like and fantastical, something that is unbelievable to the eye and mind. In the 1920’s is where surrealism shined and became a movement amongst artists of all fields. You are exploring the minds thoughts.

“Surrealism became an international intellectual and political movement. - influenced by the psychological theories and dream studies of Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) and the political ideas of Karl Marx (1818–1883). Using Freudian methods of free association, their poetry and prose drew upon the private world of the mind, traditionally restricted by reason and societal limitations, to produce surprising, unexpected imagery”

The Met Museum

When It comes to afro-surrealism, it was coined as Afro-Surreal Expressionism by Amiri Baraka. He exclaimed that, the experience of being black in america was profoundly surreal; and that couldn’t be more true.

I believe the experience we hold as african americans on united states soil is so surreal; being from any african descent where your bodily autonomy was stripped from you and your nations are colonized by those who deemed you uncivil and immoral. even to this day in modern times; we have to deal with blatant or even undercover racism, working within a white supremacist system that would rather see a country suffer than to give basic rights to black people. To me this sounds like almost every syfy conflict when it comes to governing bodies; it’s all based on the racial injustice black people are going through without saying its black people.

Within the book Black Imagination by Natasha Marin, it is a collection of black voices who speak powerfully about individual visions of happiness, safety, Fear, rituals and healing and presents an opportunity to go into the mind of blackness without the lens of whiteness. This book in of itself is surreal. black thought, uninterrupted by whiteness. Stories and accounts of our day to day and the feelings of blackness that we don’t get to express regularly because outside of our bubble it is not safe to engage and be ourselves fully; due to white supremacy, anti blackness, etc. etc.

Though our whole existence is surreal by nature. How we express it is our golden ticket. Black people are the best Creatives bless straight from source, quick witted and elastic, overflowing with energy. I can’t tell you a person that hasn’t mastered it within each genre; from movies (Ryan coogler with Black Panther and now Sinners!), to Literature (James Baldwin/Alice Walker/Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, to name a few), to musicians (Willow smith’s sound on empathogen is so fresh and vibrates on another level!). It’s surreal the way in which we create. the list can go on and on of our talents and accolades. And lets not forget The Blues! Turning our pain to music in the times of hardship. The folklore and stories passed down. the spiritual practices and how we used them. Using conjure to help those in the communities against oppression. on the flip side of that, us being lynched and eaten at picnics (Pick a N*****) where white people would watch the lynchings as a family gathering and then eat us (Pick up The Delectable Negro by Vincent Woodard, it tells all about how white people used to eat us) it’s so surreal but it is our real experience.

and I can’t forget the whimsy. Using Afro-Surrealism to create a world of fun and safety is a genre people tend to gloss over. This goes out to my Fantasy writers and comic creators making worlds of their own. Escapism within blackness is surreal. Which is why artists fight so hard to create their own things with us in mind; A full Black cast with a Black main Character. We don’t see ourselves in media and when we do get representation, it’s usually an ambiguous biracial, and EVERYONE who isn’t black still complains. So we make our own things.

Afro-Surrealism is a look into ancestry, present moment and the unimaginable. It is a lane just for us. For some, that is just being able to live for the next day with no stress; for others it’s a new world of fantastical ideas full of black whimsy.

Even in a surreal existence we thrive. Afro-Surrealism is fantastical in all facets!

In my search for new forms of media to consume, I stumbled across the commonplace book; coined by ye’ old philosophers. they would use these journals to express their thoughts on niche topics, creating quotes and discussing rhetoric. Now it can be anything. after this influx of journaling videos I thought about my own process of journaling/note taking. I usually use it to describe my day to day and the woes of my inner world that is reflective of that with the immediate outer personal world. not how i see the world and interact with it in serious thought.

The video that made me really think about it deeply was Sydney Djotita’s Podcast; The Kalopsia Podcast. Episode titled: The resurgence of critical thinking and commonplace notebooks.

but for that it was Tiktok recommendations of the articles and essay on substack (and other platforms) they’ve read this week and were currently thinking about, Which I finally bit the bullet and made a substack to really see what it was about and I was pleasantly surprised. The first article I saw and engaged with was Why the Necessity to Hide Black History by William Spivey. I knew this was the place to be, especially when I get to interact with blackness as someone who is pro black. when commenting I had so much to say and very little characters to input I realized that this is content that I believe is meaningful and makes me think critically about life. which is also why recently in the past month I have been seeking out black history/folklore and any stories and accounts of those who have come before me.

so am I journaling right? Yes and No. I found out that there are journal ecosystems. which can be a subset of commonplace journals, only these are very specific in nature and you tend to have a lot of them and not just one thats color coded with an index. I saw it explained like this; your inner world of thoughts and woes, day to days and emotions about that is considered a diary. when you write about what is going on around you not in your personal world and how that invokes thoughts that you can critically engage with. In the most simple terms that I can explain it as. (this video might help explain it better).

engaging with my first substack made me realize I didn’t have a place for my critical thought. I was journaling the other day, about journaling and if the things and media I engage with is thought about deeply. Yeah i’ve written some essay on the current events from time to time, giving my thoughts and some history behind it like a closeted video essayists. I try to give my in depth thoughts verbally on tiktok but it doesn’t feel the same as writing it down. I think the practice of taking a mini journal out and when you hear something you like you write it down and if you so choose to deep dive into it later. I personally will have a book with all the words people say that I don’t know. I think my vocabulary is vast, until I hear a person saying a word I’ve never heard and I like learning new words. and it’s sort of a accountability book, you have it so you end up using it and engaging with it meaningfully.

Engaging with things meaningfully makes you think about the media we consume and how we are just taking part in entertainment as an escape and not to critically engage. which isn’t our fault to begin with. if you are anything like me and grew up in the public school systems in the city, you know they teach you how to remember and regurgitate and not critically analyze something. so I am grateful for my college ready high school that focused a lot on black history and current events and thinking critically (Though I was not doing so well on explaining my thoughts clearly and too focused on my inner-personal life, I took it for granted). I see now the skills they bestowed upon us and I am grateful I have to skill set (that i need to brush up on) to critically engage. but as time went by, entertainment and media becomes an escape from the engagement of the real world. and even from that we have to question the balance of escapism and critical engagement. each one can become overwhelming if over done.

which is so interesting the resurgence of people going back to analog tech, like cds and vcr’s or Ipods and reading books. escapism has become in a way, over played and people want to get back into the real world. some people use the term, digital burnout. I honestly think having a common place notebook or a journal eco-system is actually so amazing. It is a was of centering yourself in the moment and in the future if you want to share it you have a whole years/life’s worth of thoughts to pass down.

in the case of critically engaging, what does it mean to critically engage in things with meaning? the end result can be; you know yourself better, you innerstand the world better, you interact with others in a different way (More empathy and understanding).

I wanted to leave this question because I haven’t found an answer to it and I would like different opinions. would escapism be more meaningful if you engaged in other things in a meaningful and critical way?

In the context of blackness. this is such a game changer! this is a way for our ideas, history, phycology , thoughts on love and struggle can be explored and we can truly engage with ourselves and the communities we foster more meaningfully. writing is truly a renaissance and resistance. Look at those like Alice Walker and James Baldwin.

But it makes me think about the war on critical thinking and how they are trying to take it out of schools… but that’s a thought for another day lol

If i ever had kids, I would make them have a journal as soon as they can write and they understand what it is they are writing. I want their thoughts to be free