It’s Mental Health Awareness Month, and while the U.S. continues to unravel in ways both predictable and painful, I’ve also noticed something else: Black folks basking in joy. Laughing. Dancing. Resting. Creating.
Don’t get me wrong—the struggle is still real. So is the joy. And both can coexist.
Lately, people have been asking me how I’m doing in the midst of all the noise. My gut response? I’m staying melanated, hydrated, and minding the business that pays me.
But if we’re keeping it real (and we are), I’m also pissed off, confused, disgusted.
I'm angry about layoffs that gut entire communities.
I'm confused by how DEI has been reduced to buzzwords and backlash.
I'm tired of watching systems pretend to care while perpetuating harm.
As Delroy Lindo once said—say what you really mean. And what I really mean is:
Even while we’re learning these new 17-count line dances, clacking our fans in sync, and showing up in vibrant joy, the grief is there too. The exhaustion is real.
But so is the power of our pause.
Our rest is not giving up—it’s a reminder that our bodies, minds, and spirits are not machines.
As creator Gigi Leflair so brilliantly put it, we’ve made struggle look effortlessly cool. And that confuses the hell out of people. But here's the truth: we deserve ease. We deserve softness. We deserve to be seen without performance.
This month—and always—may we remember:
🛑 Rest is a requirement.
💠Mental clarity is wealth.
❤️ Your humanity is not up for debate.
