Taps mic and dusts off pen, is this thing on?

Writing is one of the few things that truly makes me feel alive. Yet, I have been avoiding it lately. Maybe I’m afraid I won’t say the right thing. Maybe I’ll disclose too much. Oh, and my favorite internal mental battle — “Does anyone care enough to hear what I have to say?”

I don’t mean writing in the sense of what my day-to-day, or in this case, week-to-week looks like through listicles like my Women Crush Wednesday column that lives on iONE digital’s Madamenoire, but truly baring my soul for the digestion of others. Sometimes it can feel a bit too personal, and I lean all the way back.

Oh, but when I lean in, I feel unstoppable.

Recently, my spark was reignited when I wrote an Op-Ed about my visit to Barbados to learn more about Crop Over and its culture and significance, not just on the island but around the world.

Let’s back up a bit as to why this was such a meaningful experience. At the end of April, I learned that my time as a contractor for Blavity was soon coming to an end. When my final day at the company rolled around, the first week of May, I was on a boat in Barbados. It was a beautiful Friday. I swam with the fish, soaked up the Caribbean sun, and had one rum punch too many, and it was all on someone else’s dime.

You see, my life is often proof that two things can be true at once.

Yes, I was mentally freaking out about the unknown, tormented at the thought of not having a steady flow of income coming in on a bi-weekly basis, but at the same time, I was embracing my freedom as a Black woman, making a conscious decision to “feel the wind on my skin,” because, quite frankly, life is already hard enough.

I’ve cried more days than others, but one thing has remained constant. I can almost hear God asking me, “Sweet child, do you not trust that I won’t let you fail?”

 

A part of me feels as though I was embracing this sadness because I thought that was how I was supposed to react to the news. Deep down inside, however, I knew this day would come someday, given the doom and gloom of the current economy, especially as it pertains to journalism, media, and simply navigating the world as a Black woman.

Since the call came down that I was affected by the cuts, God has been reminding me that purpose triumphs over any move made by man, and it has been in the smallest of ways.

Shortly after learning that my time at the outlet was coming to an end, I connected with a former manager and picked up a story local to Atlanta for Capital B News.

I’ve been operating on the motto that closed mouths don’t get fed for over a year now, and because I spoke up, Ida invited me to resume my role as a contractor for Black Enterprise.

I worked one full weekend.

By the following Wednesday, we were informed that the media company had made the tough call to axe their contractors.

Shocked and in disbelief, I had to laugh and look toward the sky like, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, right? God, please tell me this is a joke.”