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Therapist/Client | Social Justice | Activism | Mental Health | Self-Discovery | Poetry | Editor of Authentic Diamonds.

Current Events

Same history, different day

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I wanted to share a piece of history I learned this morning.

In 1988 at Marquette Park in Chicago, the KKK held a rally with around 500 people. This was in response to a multiracial gathering of around 200 folks who had gathered in memory of Martin Luther King Jr. It was noted that approximately 900 officers were dispatched to the area to be present for this event.

There are a few things that I think are important to take away from this event.

First, I want to point out that I was three years old when this happened. This history is not hidden away in a place far far away. …


White ignorance is violent, dangerous, and deadly, and it must no longer be an option

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Throughout the years and throughout my journey to deconstruct my own racist beliefs, microaggressions, and white supremacy, I continue to see the same patterns in responses coming from white people when they are challenged to address their racism. They are nothing new and they are continuous products of white supremacy. These responses have to be confronted and challenged.

For clarification purposes, I am very aware that I will have to dismantle these harmful and deadly ideologies that live within me until the day I die. So, as a white person, this piece 100% includes me as well.


The amount of information that is available to Americans is truly something that cannot be fully grasped. There are seemingly endless opportunities to research, learn, and grow on our own. We can choose what subjects we want to learn about, and we make that decision every single day. That could look like learning about political candidates, looking at consumer reports on cars that we are interested in buying or researching different diets. …

Mental Health

Don’t tell me it gets better

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I will preface this piece by saying that it is not going to be a positive one. This isn’t a self-help article. This isn’t going to be some fake motivational bullshit that you find in memes or within other disingenuous expressions of encouragement. This is going to be real, and it definitely won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, yet it is necessary to speak on these things.


I am at a spot in life right now where I am so low that Rock Bottom sounds like a relaxing vacation. The losses that I have accumulated over the course of this year have been many, and they are comprised of a weight that my body and soul were never meant to bear. I have found very few glimpses of hope this year. And, even when I did, they were snuffed out before I could reach out to grasp onto something that could help me get out of this grave to which I have become so accustomed. …


Growth is painful but necessary

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Recently I have been learning what it means to truly feel. It is incredibly uncomfortable, and I am experiencing it in a way I hate, but it has forced me to figure out how to create healthy change. Part of learning what it means to feel includes learning how to cry.


I hate crying. I don’t mean that in a tough-guy way, or at least I don’t think I do. It infuriates me because it causes me to understand that I have to deal with complicated feelings. …

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Thrifty Words Theme Challenge #16: Sea

Oppressors cannot attain neutrality

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White people working on being anti-racist will never be worthy of throwing a huge celebration. Attempting to becoming less racist is merely learning to become a better person. It is not about shouting our accomplishments of shedding our racist ideals from the rooftops. It is not about letting BIPOC know that we are becoming “virtuous”.


It is about doing individual deconstruction in order to learn how to effectively and actively get involved in the fight for justice, equity, and equality. It isn’t about reaching a point of never being racist again (that’s not possible). It is about learning how to consciously confront and address our internalized oppressive beliefs. …


Pain is a language

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Years of tortured, restless thoughts have been firmly stored in the recesses of my mind. Trauma and lack of safe attachments allowed me to reside in different levels of hell daily while simultaneously learning how to show everyone else I was living a “genuine” and full life. It wasn’t until today that I realized that my pain is a language that other people can understand and speak.

Lost in Translation

I cannot count how many times I have chosen silence amidst opportunities when I could have shared what is etched onto the tattered pages of my life’s story. The weight of my experiences cannot often be carried or understood by those who wish to relate on a surface level. There have been times that I have chosen to open up, but the odd looks, the quick subject changes, the uncomfortable jokes, and the solemn silence were quick to slam the door and demand everything return to their wretched hiding spaces. …

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