I haven’t written formally since I resumed running around, breathing heavily, and trying to sound normal as the tears roll down my face—“You practice something enough you get good at it”—I’m good at it. I’m good at a multitude of things actually, and this may be hard for some, but I’ve come to terms with it. Is it naive of me to believe that it would suit us all to find the few things that take into account our personality traits, interests, beliefs, passions and cling to them because the quality of our lives depends on it? Don’t feel pressure to answer that. 

11 million jobs for the 7.7 million unemployed. Child-care is too expensive, and it keeps women out of work. Stimulus checks are running their course. Hard-working people are unwilling to risk the health and safety of their families staring down the barrel of smoking gun called COVID-19, and who can blame them? We are living in the shadow of a pandemic that has blown on the feathery foundation of this country’s systems and eaten through the very communities that we love to neglect because there are more pressing, present issues to address. Did I mention that the majority of the unemployed population is comprised of black women? Big picture: It’s looking like a one way ticket to a foreign country to me. 

In other news: 

-Biden’s budget for funding HBCUs sailed from a whopping $45B to $2B. 

-PWIs around the country have instituted ‘black student housing’ 

-Texas is appealing the Federal ruling regarding abortion 

-Texas A & M Football just might beat #1 Ranked Alabama (it’s the third quarter at the time of my writing this) 

‘Normal’, and our unrelenting desire for it, has been hanging in the air like two week old garbage, and I’m concerned that our progressive intent is looking more regressive as the days go. The control over women’s bodies. The bars keeping men of color in and women and their children on the outs of more than minimum wage workspaces seems antiquated to say he least.

Anyways, I hope you’ve been taking care of yourselves—it’s essential in this nauseating time that we want to call ‘normal’. 

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