We see people, and we immediately place them in a category—race, gender, age, class, status. And once we do that, we start assigning value, intelligence, trustworthiness, and intent based on that label. Meanwhile, most of us never even think to ask what's really inside.

But here’s the thing: the world would be a different place if we approached people like they were water instead of cans.

“Black families are more than survival stories—we are joy, tradition, resilience, and legacy in motion.”

In my latest blog post, I’m opening up about the beauty of the Black family through my own story—where we come from, how we love, what we pass down, and why our traditions matter. This is for anyone who believes in the power of family and the magic of moments that last generations.

Trump’s new executive order just gutted decades of civil rights protections — scrapping diversity mandates, LGBTQ+ workplace safeguards, and oversight on discrimination by federal contractors.

These rollbacks don’t undo federal law — but they do send a chilling message: equity and inclusion are no longer a priority.

This isn’t about “merit.” It’s about silencing progress.

We exist in a world that often overlooks us, yet we shape it with every brick we place, every laugh we share, and every protest we raise. What if we stopped whispering our truths and spoke them boldly instead? Our voices, our stories—unfiltered and unapologetic—have the power to reshape the narrative and ensure we are not just part of the conversation, but the conversation itself.

In a time when it feels like we're drifting further apart, I found myself compelled to write The Line Between Us. I'm sharing why this story matters to me personally and how fiction can illuminate conversations about race, identity, and justice. Join me as I explore how storytelling can reconnect us, encourage empathy, and help us heal together.