Some days, I really do love my job. The kids are comedy. My lessons are starting to hit. And (on good days) I feel like I’m actually making a difference... But then there are those days: The no-water, just coffee and TikTok kind.The kind where your to-do list grows legs and sprints past you in … Continue reading

Mascara

I don’t need waterproof—I need cry proof. Something that stops the tears in their tracks like, “Not today… not while you’re wearing this.” Because sometimes, the brush in my hand feels more like armor than art. One stroke of mascara to lift the lash is really a whisper to myself: You’re still her. Still divine, … Continue reading Mascara

I got the inspiration to write about a Black woman "living her best life," and still wanting more. More love. More fellowship. More out of life. She visits her grandmother’s old home in Sag Harbor, and somewhere between the porch steps and the sea breeze, she finds herself falling in love with two people at … Continue reading

Why Building Unity Sometimes Means Dying to Yourself Let’s be real: unity sounds beautiful until you realize what it actually costs. We love the idea of community, teamwork, sisterhood, brotherhood, family—all of it. But when it’s time to build that unity, we hit a wall. Why? Because unity requires something that most of us don’t … Continue reading

I’ve been drifting through this thought lately… like what if low self-esteem isn’t just something sitting quietly in the back of your mind, but more like a slow leak… a quiet mist that touches everything without asking permission. It floats into your texts, makes your fingers hesitate on the send button, whispers “maybe you’re being … Continue reading

Rambling… I think I’m too hard on myself. Like we’re supposed to hold ourselves to a higher regard but then there’s that bit of grace. Where you don’t have to be perfect, and you never will be. And that’s okay? And realizing I can’t control everything. I sure as hell can’t control other people… I can control myself. I can’t regulate my emotions and hold myself accountable. It’s okay to admit when you were wrong to admit you had your walls too high for the wrong people. It’s okay to let people in. It’s also scary. The people who know you the best are the ones you spend your time with. Partners. They see parts of you that other people don’t and never will. They become your mirror. If you don’t like what you see, then fix it. No one else is going to. No one is coming to save you. You have to start yourself.. start messy, start guessing.. but don’t be stagnant. If they see you aren’t moving then they can’t even meet you half way, and it’s not anyone’s job to meet you where you are. It’s a privilege to be loved by someone who sees beyond your faults and wants to work through them not drive over them like a pothole.. don’t miss out on the life of your dreams because you’re too comfortable in your own bullshit. And if that’s your decision to stay there, then don’t be so quick to invite people to sit with you.

The difference

You spent too much time worrying about what everyone else thought… if they liked you, if you were too much, if they’d walk away.But the real loss wasn’t their opinion. It was the way you started to see yourself. That’s what passive living does. It teaches you to stay small, stay quiet, stay agreeable. It … Continue reading The difference

Your next level of life is going to require you to be more emotionally and mentally stronger.

Your next level of life is going to require you to be more emotionally and mentally stronger. Your next level of life is going to require you to be more emotionally and mentally stronger. Your next level of life is going to require you to be more emotionally and mentally stronger. Your next level of … Continue reading Your next level of life is going to require you to be more emotionally and mentally stronger.

How am I supposed to celebrate America—vocally, in a classroom—in a country that barely tolerates me? That edits the truth I’m here to teach, side-eyes my tone, and turns words like “freedom” into performance. I’m supposed to smile while talking about independence, hang flags on my bulletin board, and lead a discussion about liberty, when my kids still get followed in stores and suspended for raising their voices. They’re not being prepared for the “real world”—they’re being prepped to survive a system that was never built for them to thrive in. They’re taught to obey, not to think. To fill in the blank, but not to ask who wrote the question. And all of this is happening in buildings that love buzzwords—equity, inclusivity, belonging—but can’t seem to back those words up with action. So no, I don’t celebrate the Fourth in my classroom. I celebrate the moment—usually around fifth period—when a student finally asks, “Why does it have to be like this?” And I say, “Exactly.” That’s where real freedom begins.