the day i chose myself <6.19.22>

dedicated to the hyphens who remain on the fence.

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The nap bishop [Tricia Hersey] reminds us that rest is our birthright, yet to live her words is an entirely different feat. Last year, I jubilantly joined the ‘great resignation' cohort and booked a one-way ticket to my birth country, Tanzania. I didn’t intend to depart on Juneteenth, but as I reflect on the tumultuous nature of that spring, I realize that I was primed for my season of emancipation.

I was tired. Tired of the performance inherently sown in seeds of Blackness. Tired of work so deeply entrenched in the sea of patriarchy, structural racism, and socioeconomic inequities that there is no room for light or her sister, ease. Tired of having to explain, decode, or translate my lived experience in order to be seen. Tired of having to enunciate, advocate and show up.

I yearned

to be

free.

So I left.

And I’d choose me

over

and

over

again.

Freedom was always there; waiting for me with arms wide open. And so was fear.

Throughout this past year, I have learned that freedom is not without struggle or uncertainty. It is not without angst or discomfort. Yet still, it propels forward. We propel forward. My ancestors are not the descendants of American slaves, but there are still parts of me that remain captive. Migration, while a beautiful opportunity to reimagine; also holds us hostage to the past. We are always beholden to it. People. Land. Identity. It is through this journey that I have begun to return home to myself.

As a way to commemorate and honor this liberatory journey, I’m launching a conversation series called The Liminal Space: Honoring Rites of Passage in a Journey of Self Discovery. It’s free— sign up, here.

May your freedom always remain expansive.

With an easeFULL heart,

n