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Honoring My Creative Fire 🔥

Writing assuages my insomnia when sleeping pills fail. Sitting down to write allows the tears and words to flow when I’m processing heartbreak. Dancing with my words elevate me when I am at the zenith of new love. My words bleeding on paper is what has stopped me from making my wrists bleed out in a bathtub. Writing has been my closest confidante, an unapologetic truth teller, and the one thing I could trust above any other coping mechanism. Realizing this is something that sustains me, and encourages me to thrive, this why I will not allow anything or anyone stop me from walking towards my true north.

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Namaste But NammafuckyouUp: Don’t Let The Easy Vibes Fool You

In fact, the advocacy IS to speak up when bothered and if it’s not understood when I say it tactfully, then I’ll just have to bring out my inner goon and let motherfuckers know that my personal peace trumps whatever the fuck they think of me. Yes, Namaste, the light in me sees the light in you, but Nammafuckyouup, the goon in me sees the shade in you. Do not fuck with me. Come to me respectfully, and I promise I will absolutely do the same. However I will not be muted, silenced or looked over because that’s what someone believes I deserve. I’m going to speak up for myself and that’s just that.


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You Can’t Sit With Us

Every opportunity isn’t for everyone, and all spots have to be earned. We carve out our space in this world, choose our communities wisely, and build from the ground up when we weren’t invited to certain tables. Everyone can effectively choose where they will sit and how they will show up in this world based on their sense of self. Everyone at some point will be rejected from tables, however, that’s an opportunity to create your own. Every table isn’t for everybody and if you want to stay at a table there are rules, and if you cannot comply, then you can’t sit here. Period.

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…But He’s A Good Guy

Women should be able to wear whatever they’d like without some man assuming that’s an invitation for him to touch her. The responsibility should fall on men to educate other men on why respecting women matter and how touching women without permission is a gross violation of the trust that has already been established and why stepping in to shut down other men from violating women. It’s maddening to think about how many things women have to do in order to ensure we have a good night and make it home safely to reflect on the good time we had.

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The Fallout Of Good Intentions

What about when someone fucks up our well-oiled cast iron pan by washing it, scrubbing it and putting a copious amount of Ajax on it to get all the gunk out? Those of us who are kitchen aficionados know about this absolute faux pas, but my 80 something-year-old Trinidadian grandma who believes in everything needing to be spick and span doesn’t know, and her intention is to make it very clean. Am I really going to hold her well-intentioned cleaning against her? YES! I am kidding, I will be a little sad but I can get another cast iron pan.

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Fight or Flight: An Exercise In Calming The Fuck Down

Hurt people hurt people, but hurt people can also heal. Our healing begins the moment we can acknowledge how hurt we have actually been and take inventory of how much life we have missed out on by barricading ourselves behind our walls. The walls keep out the people who are no good for us, yet it also very predictably keeps the wonderful ones at bay as well. We are making the choice to lose before we ever allow ourselves to get on the court. Life fucking hurts, people hurt us, but guess what? We hurt people too, and we are also the villains in someone’s story.

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