Chronicles of Change Podcast

You can feel it coming up and boiling inside you. Sometimes, my eyes twitch like something within me is about to blow. That feeling scares me. I’ve been trained to suppress it, we all have, as Black women, especially in America. The Black woman's rage was cultivated by everyone but us. White men started the initial objective, while white women personally pushed it. Unfortunately, what Black women were not expecting was for Black men to also attempt to put their foot on our necks, too, but in

I’m an ever rollin’ wheel, without a destination realI’m an ever spinning top, whirling around ‘til I drop Oh, but what am I to do? My mind is in a whirlpool Give me a little hope, one small thing to cling to You got me going in circles (Oh, round and round I go) You got me going in circles (Oh, round and round I go) I’m spun out over you (over you, over you) Over you, over you I’m a faceless clock, with timeless hopes that never stop Lord, but I feel that weight of my soul, my soul at stake Oh,

Let me start by saying this was not a self-proclaimed challenge; actually, it happened most divinely. Per my life story. My phone fell in dirt, but I thought nothing of it; the fall seemed harmless. To my surprise, when I picked up my phone, it was broken, still able to use, but not the perfect iPhone screen a lot of us stay glued to. I lit my blunt, and on the exhale, I said fuck it, no phone for the next 30 days. This was a pivot point for me because I was struggling to move forward with the last

Keys, blunt, and lighter all in hand as I jump into my shoes to run out the door. I just have to get out of here and clear my mind. Normally, I would go straight to the trail and walk alongside the water while smoking, but today I wanted to avoid familiar faces that would force me to smile and wave. This particular morning, I just needed to smoke my weed and be in my head. But just when I thought no one would stop me, I heard the unhoused man sitting on the bench at the corner where I needed to

The hustle of the fast-paced city lights up my home, preventing any darkness from existing, and this is becoming one of my favorite parts of the day. I can see the WeWork building from my home office, and as I take a puff of my blunt, I wonder when will I ever return. A sucker for views, the floor-to-ceiling windows won me over on Broadway; now I’m looking at the Broadway and San Francisco exit from my floor-to-ceiling windows at home. Each day, I step boldly into my role as Brenda the Builder, a