For me, anxiety shows up quietly at first. A tightness in my chest. A thought that loops a little too long. A feeling that I’m supposed to be doing something even when I’m already doing everything. Nothing seems to be enough, so there is no rest. Eventually a shutdown of sorts happens, but not in a way that is noticeable to others. And being Black adds its own layer, because half the time, I’m not just worried about life, I’m worried about how I’m being perceived while living it. It’s like carrying two backpacks: one filled with normal human stress, and another stuffed with the weight of being watched, judged, targeted and misunderstood. Through it all I am expected to be functional, and “grateful” in the mist of blatant oppression.

This year especially, it feels like the world is moving faster than anyone can keep up with. Technology is changing, politics are loud, and every time you open your phone, there’s another headline that makes your stomach drop. And while everyone feels that pressure, being Black means you’re also navigating the subtle and not‑so‑subtle reminders that your safety, your voice, and your peace aren’t guaranteed. That alone can make your nervous system feel like it’s running a marathon.

I’ve noticed that a lot of us carry anxiety in silence because we were raised to push through. We come from families that survived things far heavier than panic attacks, so we tell ourselves we should be able to handle it. But survival mode isn’t the same as peace. And pretending you’re not anxious doesn’t make the anxiety disappear, it just makes it louder when it finally breaks through.

What’s helped me is admitting that anxiety doesn’t make me weak. It makes me human. And honestly, it makes sense. When you grow up hearing stories about what could happen if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if you speak too boldly, or if you don’t speak at all, your body learns to stay alert. Even when you’re safe, your mind doesn’t always believe it. That’s not paranoia. That’s conditioning.

In 2026, therapy is more normalized in our community than it used to be, but there’s still hesitation. Some of us don’t trust the system feeling that what we share will be weaponized in some way. Some don’t want to open up to a stranger. Some don’t want to revisit things they’ve spent years trying to bury. I get that. But I’ve learned that talking to someone who understands—whether it’s a therapist, a friend, or even a journal—can feel like finally loosening a knot you didn’t realize had been there for years.

I’ve also had to learn that rest is not a reward. It’s a requirement. Black people are often expected to be strong, productive, unbothered, and endlessly resilient. But resilience without rest turns into exhaustion. And exhaustion turns into anxiety. So I’ve been practicing small things: stepping outside for air, putting my phone down when the news gets too heavy, letting myself say no without guilt, and reminding myself that I don’t have to earn calm.

Another thing that helps is community. There’s something healing about being around other Black people who just get it without you having to explain. The laughter hits different. The silence hits different. The understanding hits different. Sometimes managing anxiety isn’t about fixing anything, it’s about not feeling alone in it.

And honestly, joy is medicine too. Not the forced kind, not the “smile through the pain” kind, but the real moments that remind you your life is bigger than your stress. Cooking a meal you love. Listening to music that makes your shoulders drop. Watching something silly. Dancing in your living room. Letting yourself feel good without apologizing for it.

Being Black and anxious in 2026 is complicated, but it’s not hopeless. We’re learning to name what we feel, to ask for help, to rest without shame, and to build spaces where our nervous systems can finally unclench. We deserve that. We always have. And maybe that’s the quiet revolution happening right now—not just surviving but learning how to breathe again.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

The bottom line is this “doing you’ without consequence is nonexistent for our people. That is like playing Russian roulette with life. Some young people began to understand the lesson I was trying to impart. The problem is too many of them learned the lesson, as my grandfather used to say, in blood. They saw their friends killed, experienced wrongful arrest, experienced assault, and very other kinds of trauma. This was heartbreaking as they were just teenagers.  The problem is why are we fighting with adults now over the same thing?

This idea of I’m going to “do me” is running rampant in our community. As with the young people I understand the sentiment, but the problem is the ones leading the cry now are adults. They have some experience, some understanding, and they know the price that is on the line…or they should. The time we are living in is just as perilous, some would argue, as those that came before us and we are getting closer to their reality. This is not a history book, this is 2026, and the evil in power is trying to turn back time to redefine our understanding of oppression. When some of us think of ICE we think of our brothers and sisters from different places, but do we not understand our people have been harassed, and unlawfully detained too? As adults, how we process the world around us, and how we respond to it will affect our children. We can’t tell them to practice caution in what they wear and where they go, and we can’t do the same. Disciple and control will have to come together in us so that we are not impulsive, and so that we don’t become so fed up with everything we are seeing that we just say to heck with it, I’m “doing me”.

The truth is there are events we may get a gut feeling it won’t be wise to attend. There are times we might decide it is best to stay home. Sometimes the small family gathering will have to be enough. We might not want to venture out into places we don’t know in our state and in various parts of the country. Many of us may have unplugged after the elections not caring about being bothered by the stress of knowing specifically what’s going on in the country. We may be telling ourselves we will just rest for the rest of this admiration’s term. However, the truth is any of these positions at this time might be the ultimate undoing of our people. We want to rest, live, breath, and “do us”. This has a price, and it’s not one we want to endure.

We are an innovative people. We can find ways to express ourselves, be ourselves, have out balance of peace and still be mindful of the reality around us. We may have to redefine what it means to “do you”, so that it doesn’t get us killed. Teaching the youth will mean checking back in. I’m not saying we must march and be everywhere, as I truly believe we will need to find a different way to protect ourselves and our future. But we can’t just walk around like madness is not happening and move haphazardly in spite. As I stated, I have the saying “ignorance is bliss”. In these times I’d prefer, “Just because you can do a thing doesn’t mean you should”.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

The problem of racism in Mardi Gras run deep. Long before the parades became tourist attractions, the city’s krewes were exclusive social clubs that openly excluded Black people from membership. Some of the oldest krewes refused to integrate well into the 1990s, choosing to stop parading rather than accept Black riders. In 2026 the hierarchy of who gets to ride, who gets to lead, and who gets to be celebrated still reflects old lines of racist power. At the same time, Black New Orleanians have always shaped Mardi Gras—from the Baby Dolls to the Skull and Bone Gangs to the Mardi Gras Indians—yet our contributions were historically dismissed or treated as exotic side attractions rather than central pillars of the culture.

This year, those tensions resurfaced in ways that felt both familiar and exhausting. One of the most disturbing incidents happened during the Krewe of Tucks parade; photos circulated showing Black dolls hanging by their necks from bead ropes attached to a float. The images spread quickly and sparked outrage across the city. Officials, including Mayor Helena Moreno, condemned the display as deeply offensive and demanded accountability from the krewe’s leadership. The Louisiana Attorney General even launched a state-level investigation into how such imagery made it onto the parade route at all, and whether any civil rights violations were involved. The problem is those in leadership know how the imagery made it to the parade route. They know the history of the hatred on those routes, and the sad part is we do not expect the matter to be handled. We hear the words, but we have been hearing them forever without adequate change.

Seeing those photos hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just the dolls—it was the reminder that even in 2026, even in a city where Black culture defines the rhythm of daily life, someone still thought that kind of imagery was funny, or edgy, or acceptable. It made me think about how often Black people in New Orleans are expected to perform joy while swallowing disrespect.

Hanging Black dolls is not ambiguous. It’s not a misunderstanding. It’s a reminder of lynching, of dehumanization, of the violence that Black communities have endured for generations. And to see it rolling down St. Charles Avenue, in broad daylight, during a celebration that claims to represent the whole city, felt like a slap. Many of us understand the old ways…we don’t need to be on St, Charles. It is sad that we must feel that way, but to truly enjoy Mardi Gra may of us stick to spaces that have always been for us. No one is saying any one has to stick to a certain part of New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but natives know some spaces are uncomfortable for us.

Still, I can’t help but feel conflicted. I love Mardi Gras. I love the music, the food, and the way the city feels alive in a way no other place can match. But I also carry the knowledge that the celebration has always been layered joy on top of struggle, tradition on top of exclusion. This year just made those layers more visible.

Maybe that visibility is a step forward. Maybe calling out these incidents, loudly and publicly, is part of how the city grows. But it’s hard not to wish that the burden didn’t always fall on Black people to explain why something is hurtful, or to push for accountability, or to remind others that Mardi Gras belongs to us too. There is a part of me that wants the change to truly begin.

As the season wrapped up, the parades still rolled, the beads still flew, and the crowds still danced. But for many of us, the celebration came with a heaviness that’s hard to shake. Mardi Gras will always be a mix of beauty and contradiction. This year just reminded me that the work of confronting its past—and its present—is far from over.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

As a writer and advent reader, I’ve spent years learning about how our stories move through generations, and I’ve learned that storytelling has always been one of our greatest tools for survival and joy. Long before we had libraries or classrooms, we had porches, living rooms, and laps. We had elders who could turn a simple moment into a lesson. We had tales that carried our history, our humor, our warnings, and our dreams. And even now, with tablets and apps and AI reading assistants everywhere, nothing replaces the feeling of a book in a child’s hands.

Physical books slow the world down just enough for a child to breathe. They give the mind room to wander, to imagine, to question. When a child flips a page, they’re not just moving through a story—they’re practicing patience, curiosity, and focus. And for Black children especially, books become mirrors and windows. Mirrors that show them they matter. Windows that show them what’s possible.

In our community, storytelling has always been more than entertainment. It’s how we’ve kept our culture alive. It’s how we’ve passed down traditions, values, and identity. When a Black child reads a book about characters who look like them, speak like them, or come from families like theirs, something powerful happens. They see themselves as heroes. As thinkers. As creators. They learn that their voice belongs in the world.

And when those stories are shared out loud—when a parent reads to a child, or a grandparent tells a tale from their own childhood—that’s when the magic deepens. That’s when storytelling becomes a bridge between generations. I’ve seen children sit at the feet of elders, listening with their whole bodies, absorbing not just the words but the rhythm, the emotion, the love behind them. Those moments strengthen family bonds in ways no screen ever could.

In 2026, our children are growing up in a world that moves fast and doesn’t always make space for them to simply be children. They’re exposed to news, images, and pressures that can weigh on their spirits before they even understand what they’re feeling. Books offer a kind of refuge. A place where they can explore big emotions safely. A place where they can practice problem‑solving through characters who face challenges and find their way through.

I’ve watched children learn empathy from stories. I’ve watched them learn courage. I’ve watched them learn how to ask questions, how to imagine new worlds, how to dream beyond what they see. And I’ve watched families grow closer when they make reading a shared ritual—bedtime stories, Saturday morning library trips, or even just ten quiet minutes together on the couch.

There’s also something deeply cultural about holding onto physical books. They become heirlooms. A book signed by a parent. A book passed down from an older sibling. A book with worn edges because it was loved so much. These objects carry memory. They remind our children that they come from a lineage of storytellers, thinkers, and dreamers.

And yes, technology has its place. Digital tools can support learning, open access, and spark interest. But they should never replace the intimacy of reading a book together or the grounding presence of a story told face‑to‑face. Our children need both, but they especially need the kind of storytelling that roots them in who they are.

In a time when the world often tries to define Black children before they can define themselves, storytelling becomes a form of protection. A way of saying, “Here is who you are. Here is where you come from. Here is what you can become.” And physical books become the vessels that carry those truths.

So yes, in 2026, our children still need books they can hold. They need stories that honor their culture, spark their imagination, challenge their minds, and strengthen their spirits. They need the sound of our voices reading to them. They need the warmth of our presence beside them. They need the stories that remind them they are part of something bigger—something beautiful, something powerful, something deeply Black.

And as a community, we need to keep telling those stories. We need to keep passing them down. Because when we strengthen the imagination of our children, we strengthen the future of our people.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

For so long, Black women have been told to be strong in ways that drained us. Strength meant silence. Strength meant endurance. Strength meant carrying everyone else’s weight while pretending ours didn’t exist. But spiritually and culturally, our strength has never been about suffering. It has always been about connection—connection to our bodies, our ancestors, our intuition, and our joy. And in 2026, reclaiming that connection feels like an act of healing.

For me, strengthening my energy starts with slowing down enough to hear myself again. Life moves fast, and the world doesn’t always give Black women space to breathe. But when I sit still—really still—I can feel the parts of me that need attention. Sometimes it’s my spirit asking for rest. Sometimes it’s my mind asking for clarity. Sometimes it’s my heart asking for softness. Listening to myself is a spiritual practice, even if it doesn’t look like one.

There’s something powerful about remembering that our energy is sacred. Our grandmothers knew this. They protected their spirits with prayer, with songs, with oils, with quiet mornings on the porch. They didn’t call it “energy work,” but that’s exactly what it was. They knew how to cleanse a room with a single hum. They knew how to speak life into a child with one sentence. They knew how to shield themselves from negativity without ever using the word “boundaries.” That wisdom didn’t disappear. It lives in us.

Culturally, we’ve always had rituals that strengthen us. Lighting a candle while you get ready in the morning. Playing music that lifts your spirit. Cooking a meal that reminds you of home. Laughing with other Black women until your stomach hurts. These moments aren’t small. They’re grounding. They remind you that your energy doesn’t come from the world—it comes from within, and from the people who poured into you long before you were born.

In 2026, with everything happening around us, protecting that energy feels even more important. Social media, work, relationships, expectations, they all pull at us. And as Black women, we often feel those pulls more intensely because we’re expected to show up strong, composed, and capable no matter what. But strengthening your energy doesn’t mean giving more. It means giving differently. Giving intentionally. Giving to yourself first.

I’ve learned that saying no is a spiritual practice. Resting is a spiritual practice. Choosing joy on a random Tuesday is a spiritual practice. Letting yourself cry without judging yourself is a spiritual practice. These things don’t weaken you—they refill you. They remind you that you’re human, not a machine built to carry everyone else’s burdens.

Another part of strengthening my energy has been reconnecting with my intuition. Black women have always had a deep sense of knowing. We feel things before they happen. We sense shifts in people’s energy. We pick up on things others overlook. For a long time, I ignored that part of myself because the world teaches us to doubt our own wisdom. But the more I trust my intuition, the stronger I feel. It’s like having an internal compass that always points me back to myself.

And honestly, community is one of the biggest sources of strength we have. There’s something healing about being around other Black women who understand your experiences without needing a long explanation. The way we affirm each other, uplift each other, and see each other is spiritual in itself. When I’m surrounded by that kind of energy, I feel like my spirit stands a little taller.

Strengthening your energy as a Black woman in 2026 isn’t about becoming invincible. It’s about becoming aligned. It’s about honoring your boundaries, your softness, your intuition, your joy, and your rest. It’s about remembering that your energy is not something the world gets to drain—it’s something you get to protect, nurture, and grow.

And the beautiful thing is, you don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to do it intentionally. Every small act of care, every moment of stillness, every time you choose yourself, you’re strengthening your energy in ways your future self will thank you for.

You deserve to feel full. You deserve to feel grounded. You deserve to feel powerful in a way that doesn’t exhaust you. And you deserve to step into every day knowing that your energy is sacred—and you have every right to protect it.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

Basically, with more members many congregations can offer more services and better meet the needs of the people. It’s time we were honest and fair about churches based on size, and that we don’t let rumors and hearsay determine how we feel. Furthermore, every church is not the same so all of them cannot be responsible for individual bad experiences.

One of the major things that qualifies a mega church for that title is simply the number of members attending. Now, one can say promises of prosperity, lack of true ministering and worship, and a conference like format is all the glitz and glamor that leads people from their “local” smaller churches to the mega church services. One must consider what church is meant to do. If one is ministering the Word and the needs of the people are being met…more people will come. When the pastoral staff is about doing the Lord’s work and they are reaching people across demographics and they are out in the community working…people will come. This is an important thing to speak about because as the people come the building must expand to house the congregation. Some may say this is being too simple, but it’s a fact. If your church, regardless of denomination, is doing the work and the people are being fed spiritually there will be growth. There are so many that are lost and hurting and looking for answers. If they find a place where their whole being is being ministered to and they feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable in that environment, they are coming; they are also more likely to bring their family and anyone else they know that is seeking answers.

Many mega churches are non-denominational. Yes, this is going to be attacked by denominations as a lack of spiritual grounding, and of course the idea that everything is about the “prosperity message”. Though this has been the experience of some…it is not the experience of all. This same money grab issue that is cause for judging non-denominational mega churches can be found in every size church and every denomination. In some cities we can go to neighborhoods where there are churches on every other block, and the denominations are the same. In some cases, there is a fall out in one church over mess, foolishness, doctrine, and money so someone leaves and starts their own church. There must be emphasis placed on the possessiveness some have as though it’s their house and not the house of God.

If one is honest this is an issue in every church, but the impact is often felt more on a smaller scale. So, in the mega church they may need to clean house when situations happen, but they are still able in some cases to meet the financial needs of the ministry. Also, when municipalities fail our cities and communities, and when natural disasters occur many of these large churches can assist their congregations and communities.

No one can say which congregation from small to mega is best because that is a personal preference, however all sizes can be local and serve its community. We must be sure we are not downing a church for its existence without sound reasoning. As stated previously, if people continue to come to a church it will have to expand. There is nothing wrong with deciding to serve in a smaller congregation, just know that all mega churches are not built on scams and manipulation…just like the smaller ones are not just built on strife and division. There could be more unity in the Body of Christ if we didn’t look at different churches as competition.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

I disagree with my neighbor, and I feel it’s one of the reasons why we are having trouble caring for each other. Everyone will have challenges, and those hardships are priority because they are happening to you. They hit harder because they are personal, and in your face. However, there are people in this world who are experiencing hardships so catastrophic that they would trade places with you in a heartbeat. Likewise, there are situations that you face that are so daunting that you wouldn’t mind trading places with someone else. The thing is, it’s okay to acknowledge how hard a road is for someone else, and it’s okay to realize they may be fighting more than you can carry. It doesn’t make your hardships less than, but it might save your perspective and life. You may look at them and find the inspiration to keep going, because if they can so can you. This is a part of the human experience. When we can see past ourselves, we can walk in true empathy. When we can truly see past ourselves, we can then give those we care about the support we demand. It is important in emotional intelligence to be able to acknowledge that in most cases a scrap on the knee is not the same as a gunshot wound. This may sound cray, but some are being taught their scraped knee that needs antiseptic and a Band-Aid is on par with a gunshot wound. How is empathy born from that? It’s not.

Some of our relationships are tanking because this is how we treat each other. If one has no experience in a situation they feel they don’t have to have to show even proper sympathy…until it happens to them and they demand what they refuse to give. We see it in grief all the time. Someone is broken from losing a parent that was their favorite person tragically, and a friend throws in their face well I lost a cousin…while telling that same person they are having dinner with their parents. Both are grieving…however, one is going to dinner with parents while the other feels like a part of their DNA just left the earth. In this scenario, all grief can be acknowledged…and the friend with both parents could be more caring instead of trying to one up. There is a difference between trying to connect as in I may not know parental loss, but I know loss and I’m here for you, verses my loss is greater than yours because it’s my life. We can acknowledge our own challenges and know they are valid, while being grateful it is not worse because clearly, we see worse exists.

Though my health challenges are severe I saw worse. I am grateful for the conversation in the grocery store. That sister encouraged me and showed me I can keep going. She had a smile I will never forget, and even in her situation she was so positive and full of life. She will never know how much she blessed me, because I saw someone going through more and they were shining.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

We know there are systemic issues at play that cause one to ask “who am I”, questioning what we already know about self.   Being able to define self opens up so many other doors whereby we can show up for ourselves. Knowing who you are helps inform how you interact with people, what you will tolerate, and can help one get outside of their heads to progress forward in life.

When was the last time you felt confident about how you see yourself in relation to the world around you? Do you find yourself constantly questioning self? Are you always excusing behaviors that are harmful because you are not sure of your response? Do you find it difficult to be yourself out loud taking the space you need? Are you adjusting how you feel about matters to appease those around you? Do you feel your sense of self is not accurate if others don’t validate you? Do you tend to adapt to the methods of others to be more acceptable in a space? All of these questions can lead to an understanding of if you truly know who you are, and it you value that person. Can you accept that person that is truly you? This is a tough internal work, and for many of us it is painful. As we unpack the question of whether we know ourselves we might end up acknowledging harm that has been done to us, but even more importantly the harm we have done to ourselves. Facing these things are often the biggest deterrents from doing the work to know ourselves and settle with that knowledge. The decision to get to know yourself is one of the best decisions you can make; it is worth the hard work and struggle to be able to sit comfortably within yourself.

Take the time to sit with yourself quietly. If no one would judge you, what do you like. What are the things you are passionate about? What informs your value system? I understand you might be hesitant at first or even feel you need help, and that is ok. However, before you reach out get some truth about you from you. It doesn’t have to always be deep, but its still a part of you. Example, I love black everything, black clothes, shoes, décor, jewelry…everything. Because I was told I look like the walking dead so much I begin to wear other colors so that I would not be ridiculed. That was not the real me. I might not seem like a big deal, but I started to see myself more as a character than as an individual. I became a walking character that others add to, and in that I lost myself. It started off as something so small, yet it an issue that spiraled into other areas.

I even began to internalize the words of others even though they were harmful to me. Before I knew it the majority of my person was created by the expectations and ridicule of others. I just wanted to be able to be present in spaces without the scrutiny. That was accomplished; however, it was at the cost of my person. I was not foreign to myself.  The heartbreaker is, most of the people that are defining who you are negatively will not be present to help put you back together when the false identity implodes…and it will. You can only be a stranger to yourself for so long.

You are an individual and that is beautiful. Take time to know the truth of you and then let those that mean you well help add to it. A very dear sister of mine helped me realize my love for black is okay because it’s who I am. She is also the reason I came to realize I like splashes of color against my beloved black. Again, this is something simple, but as you settle into yourself there will be strong people that will value you as is and introduce you to things you can choose to incorporate. All of this leads to living in truth and living out loud. Even when it is not popular and unvalidated by some…its validated by you and that is want matters. More people will gravitate towards the real you than you dealing with people that only want a shell of you. You deserve to know yourself and like that person.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

The mentor knows your spiritual goals, life goals, and career goals. Sometimes this person assists as mentor to all those areas, and of course it could be individuals for each area. She is who we go to for direction, and for knowledge of how to move ourselves from one point in our journey to the next. She knows our strengths and weaknesses and helps us grow in strength and diminish weaknesses. There is confidence that must be kept because often times you are an open book to your mentor. It is imperative that this Sistah does not envy you, is not jealous of you, does not see you as a threat, and does not diminish you. And in like fashion you should not have a mentor you are envious of, jealous of, or see as a threat. Trust is important because at some point this person will know you enough to do as much harm as she does good towards you.

Far too often when we find a sistah that can actually mentor us and can understand who we are there is an excitement and an ease that comes over us. We feel that we are not alone as we push forward towards our goal. There is a camaraderie amongst sistahs, and we not only trust our mentor, but we will stand with them and defend them fiercely. This is a beautiful relationship amongst Black women and has gotten many of us through degree programs, through loss & trauma, and helped us situate self in our spiritual walk.

It is important that we choose our mentor wisely. For as influential and positive as this relationship can be…it can be equally, if not more, destructive. If you find yourself in a situation whereby you mentor sistah is experiencing trauma it is natural to want to stand by her side and be there for her. However, if she begins to lash out causing you to bare the brunt of her anger and hurt you might need to step back. If you find that in the pain and abuse she is enduring envy seeps in, it is important to notice this and re-evaluate the nature of the relationship. You would know something is off if she once kept you mindful of your goals, and now she advises in a way that will stagnate you or set you back. You may experience micro-aggression as things are said to you that make you feel inferior while she appears to be empowered. There can also be gaslighting and more belittling under the guise of corrective criticism and wisdom. In worse cases, especially where academia and spiritual matter are involved, you may be led to view yourself as less and even subservient to the mentor. These are just a few warning signs that you need to remove yourself.

No mentor relationship is perfect as we are all human. However, you must choose this person wisely knowing that they will not harm you when they face their worst. You must want to see each other win. It’s easy to say, but too many Sistahs are in dangerous competition with each other for various reasons. Regardless of the reason, it harms the women involved, the women that witness, and the next generation coming. Be mindful of how all parts of your sistah circle is assembled and be sure you are not the toxic in the circle either.  We must mentor and walk with each other in love and support. When one of us rises all of us rise.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

One thing Black Americans have always had to do was keep watch. Even if we decided not to speak to matters immediately, we saw them; at the very least we began preparing mentally. What some may see as our ingenious brand of comedy is usually a way to begin vetting how we feel about things happening, or what we see is about to happen. Because of this we can begin to face what could be serious issues while maintaining some level of peace because we are not caught off guard. There is not a storm that just shows up that we are absolutely unprepared to address. Due to this, many might say we are prophetic…maybe, but its more so our people have been through enough to anticipate what those around us will do should hell break loose. Unfortunately, this means protecting ourselves from others, and each those of us within our “community” that don’t move like us. This quiet laidback observation with stealth movement has kept us through every major issue this country has faced, and that our people have faced. The important thing is we always saw the storm coming.

Today we are possibly at a disadvantage. Too many of us may be misunderstanding the concept of “protecting peace” and wanting a “soft life”. As stated, these are not bad, with that in mind one must understand it doesn’t look the same for our people as it may for other groups. We can’t shut out the world around us under the guise of peace. We can not misunderstand the true meaning of strength and surrender our greatest personal advantage for a “soft” that will betray us in the future. One of our greatest strengths was seeing hell and being absolutely unbothered because as a people we have seen worse. Our peace was not dictated by the world around us; it was a decision made in spite of the world. This allows us to maintain joy, thrive in various endeavors, build family and community, and move our people forward. Access can be a tool, but not one that should be internalized. None of what we see around us is new…it’s repackaged hatred, confusion, evil, and chaos. We can’t afford to ignore all of it, or to simply pretend the madness in the world is either not happening or won’t affect us.

When ICE began its rampage of violating human rights by pulling immigrants off the streets our people, for the most part, felt this is not our fight. We had every right to be angry and feel betrayed after the election. We knew people in this country voted for their own demise…we warned them, but no one listened. We said it was not our fight, but we didn’t say we wouldn’t observe the situation. Black America had to know they could not afford to go into a bubble whereby they did not pay attention. Sisters we had to know we could not just ignore what was about to happen…and did happen. Some of us tried to say it’s not my business; turn the TV off, turn the phone off, and disengage completely because it is not our fight and we are tired. The sentiment was understandable, but we should also know that is not the America WE live in. It is unsafe for us to completely disengage. The reason we were able to give the warning is because we currently live in the reality that was coming for others. Knowing that, we should also know we would be in the line of fire. We can disengage from the discussion while actively paying attention so that we move in a manner that protects our safety and peace. To ignore everything completely is to get blind-sided. This is not new…it’s always been our reality. Protect your peace by being aware and prepared. Ignorance is not bliss…it’s deadly.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.