This February snowy day I’m working in my attic office looking out at the winter wonderland outside. I can hear my partner and children laughing and yelling through the window pane as they tumble in the snow. I feel joy and gratitude. And I feel deep angst because so little is changing. I know the world my Brown boys are inheriting. Last night we watched the Netflix series, Raising Dion . The lead child actor is Dion, a Black boy. After a scene where Dion and a white boy have

A year and a half ago, I was telling a dear friend that my work environment felt toxic. I also sensed that I was like a florist trying to be a mechanic in academia, and that my passions and gifts were suffocating in my professional space. I shared with her that I couldn’t leave my position because of the insurance, the salary — the stability it provided my family…I had to increase my business revenue before I was ready to take a leap and leave my position. Then, she asked me

I hope we all have a person/a few people who show up unconditionally, who love us when we are undeserving, who forgive us when we falter, who are our biggest cheerleader — the ones who teach us who and how we are meant to be in this life. Someone who teaches us more about living than we can ever teach them. For me, one of these people is Ruthie. Ruthie was born August 21st of 1941, the third youngest of ten children. She loved Billy Ray Cyrus, bowling, bologna sandwiches, Mac

I am walking alongside my relationship with saying “no”, setting boundaries and living in the life designed for me that is aligned with not only my lane but my purpose. I don’t always get it right. I misstep. The universe reveals the lesson and I try again. Over the past two years I have declined invitations to more open doors and opportunities than I did in all my previous decades of existence. Saying “no” is also my responsibility in minimizing my harm I co-create with whit

As a white identifying ciswoman, I cannot deny that my socialization is deeply steeped in white, cisheteropatriarchal capitalism. I won’t for a minute lead anyone to believe this work is something I do not grapple to navigate and disrupt every single day. My decolonizing work has no end.I inhabit spaces that are the ancestral home stewarded by the Potawatomi, Kiikaapoi, Myaamia and Peoria Tribal Nations. I further honor that I have a responsibility to address this history and

I write this for every person who puts everyone before themselves. The person who gives of their time without question, their talents without pause and pours their soul into their work, their loved ones, friends, colleagues and neighbors day in and day out. I write this, too, for myself. It is good to stop for our own sustenance and to remind ourselves it is important to love ourselves, rest with our desires and co-create a fulfilling existence filled with self and collective

Trauma, a deeply distressing or disturbing experience, an experience all of humanity has endured over the course of the last year and a half. No one has been left out; though, given our circumstances and our intersectional identities, we may have varied depths of trauma. Nonetheless, the majority of us have experienced trauma whether we own or name it as such. What deeply distressing or disturbing experience(s) have you shouldered since March of 2020? To read the full version

Have you ever closed your eyes and dreamt of freedom? If not, I encourage you to imagine your personal image of living completely free in your purpose and full humanity. A few weeks ago I gave myself the permission to reflect on what freedom would feel like in my own life. I journaled the following words that entered and occupied my spirit: Slow the pace of your mind; still yourmovement. And, listen for the chattering of birds in the distance and if there are no birds you can

Happy Pride! Love is love. Yes, I am writing this, and yes, I was baptized, raised and am a practicing Christian. But, let me be real – I struggle with the Christian church and its collective hypocrisy. I have and continue to wrestle with the institution of Christianity and the ways it has harmed and continues to without pause, remorse or reflection. Sometimes I see Christianity as the ultimate bully and envision Jesus in Heaven shaking his arms in disgust at how we have got

(On Mental Health Awareness Month and every day and month, let me name that I am a privileged person to not only sit at a computer for work but to still have work in this moment of time. I recognize I have an obligation to use my privilege for good – the good of all – in ways I am able and that are necessary). The afternoon before I began writing this blog, I was moving from one responsibility to the next - teaching a virtual undergraduate course, leading a committee meeting