This weekend, I met up with a “nonbinary” woman in my community, and we had an exchange that illuminated something about myself that I had been needing to see for a long time.

…

We met just a few weeks ago at a walking tour designed to educate locals about the wild-grown herbs in our neighborhood. We were the only two black women in our small group. She had more of a soft-butch presentation, but she seemed shy, and we didn’t talk to each other at all throughout the walk.

However, towards the end of the tour, the facilitator stopped to show us one of the plants growing on the side of the bike trail, and this black woman raised her hand to ask whether the herb was native to the region or not.

The facilitator immediately launched into a 2 minute lecture about how we should watch our language when describing plants as “native” because it also translates into how we describe human beings as belonging vs. not belonging, based on whether they are a citizen of the U.S..

I smirked. Her whole white guilt spiel was really annoying, and it felt performative. Are we not here to learn?! Why is the origin of the plant suddenly offensive?

What’s more, I thought it was so ironic that one of the only non-white people in the group was being policed so hard for using language that was supposedly exclusionary to immigrants, after asking a very basic question.

So I raised my hand and told the facilitator that, as someone who is half-Nigerian, I have personally taken a special interest in learning which plants are indigenous to West Africa, because it helps me understand which Nigerian dishes are native to the region, and which ones are made from ingredients that the colonizers brought to our land.

That was both a 100% true statement, and my way of taking the pressure off of this other black woman. And it worked.

The facilitator widened her eyes and said, “Oh yes of course that is totally valid!!”

She fawned over how that’s a totally different political context, and blah blah blah…we moved on.

After that, I started to sense that this black woman wanted to connect with me. At the end of the walk, she made really intense eye contact with me for a moment, and I gave her a polite smile before walking inside.

A couple of minutes later, she approached and greeted me by my first name. She explained that she had been looking for more black friends in the area, and wanted to know if I’d like to get together sometime. She explicitly said she had to “shoot her shot” with me. Interesting.

Now on an energetic level, I have to be honest: this is not a woman who I would opt to be friends with. I could tell that I was more FREE than her, in every sense of the word—and it showed up in how we carried ourselves.

But being that I have been craving local community, I was open to forming acquaintanceships too. Maybe my initial read on her was our first incompatibility that I should have taken more seriously, but I didn’t. I stayed open, because I thought she seemed like a genuinely nice person, and I was open to explore the connection.

I thought perhaps, we could share a wholesome activity together. So I offered for us to expand on what we learned on our plant walk by going foraging sometime.

We exchanged numbers and eventually, we made plans to meet at a local park to go on a nature walk.

When I was on my way to meet her, I had an intuitive feeling that a conversation about gender ideology was going to come up, and that it wasn’t going to end well.

I was nervous about it, but I had also made peace with it. After all, we had only planned to spend an hour an a half together before parting ways, so I had packed a picnic blanket, a book, and dessert for my own solo time in the garden. I was prepared to be left alone.

…

We met up at a local train station and walked to the park entrance together, which was just a few minutes away.

We had barely crossed the street before her questions quickly began leading us down that rocky road to gender ideology.

Totally normal questions, too…

Like, “What have you been up to lately?…Oh yeah?…Well, what kind of podcast did you record?…What’s the anthology about?”

I got completely out of my comfort zone and told her exactly what it was:

“It’s called She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology and it’s a diverse group of women sharing personal essays and poetry about the adverse impact of the trans movement on black women.”

I could immediately feel her sense of time slowing down. For a few seconds, we moved through molasses.

She shook her head incredulously. “Wh…what’s impact does it have on black women? How is it negatively affecting you?”

Her question felt like an increasingly strong grip around my neck.

“We wrote about it. I contributed to the book too. I can send you a link,” I said, breathlessly.

Seconds later, we arrived at the park entrance. She was in such a daze that she completely passed it by. I had to stop in my tracks to alert her that we had arrived.

We then embarked on what was a very silent and awkward walk through the park.

We walked for about 20 minutes and tried to talk about other things. What book did I bring with me, what else we have been up to, what herbs have we discovered lately? The energy felt heavy with discomfort.

…

Eventually my legs got tired and I suggested we sit on a bench. As soon as she sat down, she turned to me and said,

“I’m just going to be honest, I don’t think this friendship is gonna work if you don’t like trans people, because...I’m nonbinary.”

I was taken aback but also…completely unsurprised.

“When did I say I don’t like anyone?” I said.

“I just didn’t want you to be lost about why I’m not responding to your messages after this….”

I laughed a little and shrugged. “I kind of predicted this would happen. I wasn’t really expecting anything to come of this meetup. I was just following through because we talked about foraging together.”

She reiterated the premise of my book and asked the same question she asked before. “What impact is this having on black women?”

I calmly leaned into the back of the bench. “You know, when I’m trying to have a casual conversation I don’t really like to be in teaching mode, which is why I recommend people read the book. But I can give you an example. And this is just one of many...”

I told her about Tomiekia Johnson, the incarcerated woman who wrote an impassioned essay in the anthology, outlining her abuse from violent men in women’s prisons, as well as other rape cases that many female inmates have suffered at the hands of males who identify as women. I explained that this is happening as a result of self-ID laws, that black women are disproportionately impacted due to our incarceration rates, and I felt it was important to highlight Tomiekia’s voice because mainstream media ignores issues like this one.

And I kid you not…

She could not get past the fact that I called the male rapists MEN.

Like…that was the major human rights violation happening here: Me purposefully misgendering the rapists.

That became the focus of the whole conversation; the root of the problem.

She shrugged and explained that some transwomen just happen to be rapists. However, by calling them men, I am stripping them of their personhood and disrespecting them. I am calling them out of their name. Those transwomen who raped are still women!!!

I was sitting there thinking like, “Damn. This is peak self-hate!”

I told her that I don’t feel an obligation to show them any particular respect.

Her: “That’s like when black man does something wrong and he gets called the N-word.”

Me: “You think this is on-par with the N-word?”

Her: “I don’t like Trump but I don’t call him Fat because that’s not why I don’t like him.”

Her voice was growing louder and more impassioned as she belted out the reasons why I am wrong. In the same moment, a man and woman quietly walked by with their small child.

I looked at them in the eye, nodded, and gave them a warm smile. “How you doin?” I said, signaling that everything is OK.

Ms. Nonbinary checked herself and followed suit. “Have a nice day!” she nervously called after them.

I relaxed into my body, knowing I was safe, because I was not the least bit emotionally invested in this conversation.

I turned to face her. “Listen. You’re welcome to believe what you want. I’m not interested in trying to change your mind. But let me ask you something. Do you believe in absolute truth? Or do you believe that truth is always subjective?”

She shrugged, waved her hands around and told me that it depends. Some truths are material, others are subjective, things are always changing!

I said, “OK. Well, I use the original definition of man and woman, which are based on material reality. It’s only within the last few years that they changed it on paper. I don’t think those definitions are hateful. I mean you can identify however you want but it doesn’t change those facts.”

She reverted back to the fact that I’m disrespecting a trans person’s humanity by calling them out of their name.

I nodded and told her I’ve heard this argument before, I’m used to receiving plenty of hostility about my views, and I understand her position completely.

I had nothing else to say.

She lowered her voice back to a normal tone. “Well I’m sorry if you think I’m being hostile…”

I smiled and raised my eyebrows. “You’re not as bad as some other people,” I reassured.

She wished me all the best with my endeavors, thanked me for coming out to meet a stranger, and told her that my position simply hits too close to home because she’s nonbinary, and her partner and roommate are also trans. Then she got up and walked away. We had only spent about 45 minutes together.

…

I was left alone on the bench with an empty space next to me. After watching her disappear into the distance, I gazed forward. I was sitting right in front of the green area where I usually lay out and meditate. I would be headed over there soon…

But in the meantime, all I could think about was the fact that I want to make sure I never waste my time and energy like this again.

I set a quiet intention for myself and moved forward.

The sun caressed me as I laid out on my blanket, laughing about the sheer stupidity of it all.

How predictable their outrage is. How boring it is.

I could practically lip sync every word….

Talking about this issue with most people feels like yanking a wad of chewed up gum that’s been stuck to to the bottom of a middle schooler’s desk for a year, putting it in my mouth, and trying to find a new flavor.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Brainwash. Rinse. Repeat.

And the crazy thing is, this is the second “nonbinary” black lesbian who has given me the cold shoulder this week, after talking about my book.

I know I want to be authentic, but this is draining. I don’t like exposing myself to these energies, and something has to change.

So I got quiet and thought to myself about how I got here? And where to go next...

…

Now, let me be honest. When I go out, I attract attention, and people are drawn to me.

I get approached a lot.

I also genuinely enjoy connecting with people, so I experience a lot of social engagement; a lot of contact exchange.

My presence appeals to different types of people, and this also includes “queer-nonbinary” types.

...

What I realize is that people are attracted to the beauty of my light.

Even my hair, which I receive loads of attention for—is an expression of my inner-light and freedom. Most people do not realize that because they think my hair is just a style…but it’s not.

Most people do not understand the courage, inner work, and spiritual strength it took for my hair to be just as it is—they only see and appreciate the aesthetic result. And that’s OK…because it is physically beautiful too. But I say that to say...

The reason why people are drawn to me is not just because I’m beautiful. It’s because I am radiant.

And the fact is, many people who are attracted to that radiance on a superficial level, cannot hold space for my light in a deeper sense, especially not through a relationship, because my light is too bright for them to witness up close.

They cover their eyes and turn away, or they don’t have enough power to stoke my flame. So instead, they ask me to dim my light.

Because in order to fully pour into me, you have to be shining your light just as bright as I am, in a true sense.

My journey through my work on this topic—has shown that to me because I’ve had to reach deep down to find my light and shine it super bright amidst all this darkness.

And it’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to accept. Because it’s been lonely.

But much as I want to be a light for my community, and as much as I want to be here for people to learn...I am also clear that my well of energy is not a fucking charity pot.

So today, I have realized that I need to make myself far less available to people than I am now.

I need to release the fear I feel around not having an emergency contact.

Feel the grief I feel around losing my family, around not having any close friends...

Heal the sadness that compels me to linger around misaligned energies for just a little too long...

And I need to trust that I’m going to be OK.

With no perceivable safety net. With no tight-knit community.

I need to take full ownership of my solitude, and walk my path in a way that preserves my energy for where it truly belongs.

So when people step to me, I can be clear in my heart, that with the utmost love...

Business is closed AS FUCK!!!!

Except for the rare few who show me that they are worthy of my time and energy.

Just like a cat.

That’s what cats do—they require you to earn their trust. I need to connect with my ancestral cat lineage and get into that mode.

So that’s what I will be working on. Meow!!

And that was the blessing that came from this recent interaction I had.

I think deep down, my spirit needed to see a truth brought to the surface so that I could process it, and that’s what happened.

So I accept the cold shoulder with an open heart.

Because it’s all moving me closer to who I am and where I am meant to be.

Every now and then, it dawns on me that I don’t have an emergency contact.

It’s not just when I am asked to provide one at the doctor’s, leasing office, yoga class, or pretty much anything else.

I think about it when I’m chopping vegetables and I realize that all it takes is a wrist sprain for me to struggle to independently feed myself.

I think about it when a driver is pridefully about to hit me as I walk through a crosswalk. I realize that I could lose my home if I ever had to stay in the hospital for too long.

(((They always love to pardon themselves with an anxious wave that says, “Sorry I didn’t stop to let you cross when you clearly had the right of way but I’m in a large metal vehicle and you’re not, so therefore you’re of lesser value and I really don’t give a fuck if I cripple you for the rest of your life or even just destroy your quality of life for a few months while you can’t work, feed, or bathe yourself, tee-hee!”)))

I think about it when I realize I couldn’t foster a cat because even one overnight hospital visit would lead to a baby’s missed meal.

I think about it when I realize that whatever happens, I have to go through everything alone, with no safety net, and nobody knocking on my door to check on me.

For my entire life, my parents have been my emergency contact.

My family has provided shelter when I would have otherwise been on the street, and they have come to my aid when I came down with a freak illness and had to stay in the ICU…on 3 different occasions.

My Mother has always made sure to let me know that her home was my “soft landing”

Over the years, it reached to a point where my survival was the only thing tying our relationship together.

But having my parents in my life for such basic support came with a cost.

The cost was—as much as they supported me through life’s emergencies, they also created crises, too.

Fire crises that hit me like a ton of bricks when I least expected it, and slow-drip crises that ate away at my body and spirit like cancer.

Crises that pushed me to create emergency fundraisers, leave town, and sleep on couches and blow-up beds of people I just met.

My parents still welcome me with open arms. They would be happy to be my emergency contact. But I am tired of enduring the endless cycle.

I am out here raw-dogging life because that’s the only way I can set my path towards true safety, health, and peace of mind.

But I can’t lie about how vulnerable I feel, and sometimes it hits harder than others.

Community has been my sore spot for many years.

On the outside, I have a rich social life…at least during summertime.

When I go out, people are drawn to me. It’s easy for me to strike up lengthy conversations, and enjoy genuine “hang out” moments.

But at the end of the day, I’m alone.

And as much as I hate to say it—the controversial work I have done creates a real barrier with many people who could otherwise be good community.

We can laugh, talk, and enjoy each other’s company—but I don’t trust them because I know they will abandon me purely based what I have stood up for.

So I don’t nurture the connection, and it feels like wasted potential.

Sometimes I keep my distance for other reasons, but this is a major one.

This has happened with neighbors, and women I have met in my local area…

And it’s part of my sore spot.

I had a sore spot already, and it has compounded.

It is not my fault. I have identified this as a structural problem. But it’s exhausting and discouraging.

That is already on top of how challenging it is to make friends as an adult in general.

There are additional barriers I face that are quite frankly, stupid & unnecessary…yet extremely pervasive.

I’d like to think that these barriers (or standards) create a filter for higher-quality relationships. And maybe it does.

But it doesn’t change how exposed and vulnerable I feel during the long chapters of life that I have to walk alone.

I recently published an essay on my journey with celibacy.

I’m cool with taking time off from intimate relationships, especially when I do not have an emergency contact.

I’m done with getting intimate when I am building my foundation, especially after people have used fractures of my vulnerability as an opportunity to insert themselves where they didn’t belong. NO THANK YOU.

But everybody needs community, no matter what’s going on in their world. It’s part of being human.

This final chapter of family estrangement has required advanced adulting skills.

I’ve scrambled to opt-into every single safety net I can find. Long term disability insurance. Paid Family & Medical Leave. Welfare.

I even looked into hiring a pro-bono lawyer to be my medical proxy, to honor my wishes in case I ever become a human vegetable (((¡please pull the fucking plug!)))

I even looked into having a social worker be my emergency contact.

And I know it’s still not enough!

There is no substitute for someone who simply gives a fuck about you, and who has the capacity to show up for the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I’m extraordinarily resourceful, and resourcefulness has gotten me this far.

But I can’t do this life all alone. And that’s the part that I’m surrendering to.

I can’t effort my way into having friends, community, or family.

I can’t effort my way into having a good emergency contact.

And I can’t regress my morals out of fear of not having those things.

So until I build that support system in my life, I have to trust that I’m protected.

And maybe that’s the journey that I’m meant to walk.

Or let’s be real…maybe this is some bullshit that comes with living on a ghetto ass planet!!!

For most of my adult life, I have been celibate. But I definitely didn’t start out this way.

In my late teens-early 20s, I was more open to dating and hence, more sexually active.

However, as I have healed and matured--the pool of individuals who I am attracted to (that I would seriously consider laying down with) has drastically diminished.

This depth of attraction I feel is entirely based on chemistry. And being the rare bird I am, chemistry does not come cheap.

I also don’t believe in “dating” in the sense of trying on random people like a pair of shoes in a store; I actually find casual dating to be rather reckless behavior.

I need to feel a special connection. There needs to be a touch of kismet...

So, it has been easy for me to go years at a time, abstaining from sex with zero temptation.

But the day I would meet someone who I felt that chemistry with—it was a wrap.

We’d just slide right on into bed, and right into a relationship within 24 hours, and it would feel like the most natural thing that ever happened to us.

We’d devour each other.

Not out of desperation, but in the heat of raw passion and desire.

I’ve learned the hard way that...that shit doesn’t work. It’s not romantic, it’s not cute. Most importantly, it’s emotionally irresponsible.

And in the end—it’s not even as sexually fulfilling as it could be…because we hadn’t built enough trust and intimacy to truly blossom.

However, it is pure. The feelings we have for each other—the beauty we see within each other is very real.

But I’ve learned that just because we share a genuine connection...does not mean that we’re fit to be together.

Feelings, chemistry, and even love—is not enough to make a relationship work. And, it is no longer enough to make me lay down with someone.

Even if we are soul mates—the reality is that we do not exist in an ethereal realm.

We are creatures, existing on Earth, in a broken system.

We walk journeys. We carry baggage. We have life trajectories. We have daily habits.

These are elements that must be carefully discerned before investing emotional and sexual energy into another person.

And so, over the past few years, I’ve been meditating on the concept of compatibility.

I like think of compatibility as the nuts and bolts (yang), balancing the chemistry (yin). Both are necessary.

Of course, there are no rules for having a relationship. Anyone can settle for whatever falls into their lap, whether its good for them or not.

Anyone can get into a relationship, without regard for whether it is a wise or empowering decision.

But this is a conversation about quality.

I believe that relationships require a foundational level of holistic health on each individual’s part, and deep alignment in order to function as a sustainable, mutually empowering union.

And this brings me to my celibacy journey…

I’ve been celibate for 2.5 years now, by choice. And I have been single for almost 5 years.

I’d like to share the intention behind my celibacy, and my recent realization—that it may be best for me to remain single and celibate for several more years, in order to lay the foundation for the life (and relationship) I truly desire and deserve.

Ironically, this understanding has been reinforced through a recent romantic connection that was very…arousing. I’d like to share the wisdom I gleaned from that experience, and how I intend to explore my sexuality in a way that feels healthy and grounded through celibacy.

Read more

Hi Everyone!

Thank you to all of you who have supported my latest anthology, “She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology”. It’s been exciting to witness the outpouring of support for this project and I am deeply grateful that it’s making the impact it deserves.

If you enjoyed the book, I’d love to receive a review on the platform where you initially purchased the book.

Reviews are incredibly helpful for the book’s visibility and credibility, so that other people can have a glimpse of its impact.

For those who purchased a signed book on my Artist website:

Please visit the shop page here, scroll down a bit, and click the "Reviews" tab that is next to "Description". You can rate the book and submit your review there.

For those who purchased on Bookbaby:

Please visit my book webpage, and scroll to the bottom of the page, login, and submit your review.

For those who purchased on Amazon:

Login to your Amazon account, scroll to find the book in “Your Orders” and click “Write a product review”

Thank you so much for helping me offer this book the visibility it deserves! I appreciate you all. 🌺

A couple of days ago, I worked up the courage to email the liberal arts organization that funded my anthology, and share the official webpage of She Holds The Line.

When I initially applied for that grant, I used slightly softer language in the book title eg. “Identity” instead of “Ideology”. I also did not have a fully fleshed out written summary of the book.

I was very honest about what I wanted to create…but the philosophy behind the anthology is much bolder and clearer now, than it ever was in its infancy. So in a way, it felt like I was coming out about my views in a way I previously hadn’t.

It’s weird. Many people never expect me to think the way I do because of who I am and what I look like. So when they are presented with my perspective in bold print, I feel like I am piercing through a matrix with a cloak of invisibility.

In one way it is a power, but it also leaves me feeling misunderstood at times. I realize that it takes a certain clarity for some people to even process my very existence.

There is always the question of, “How can you possibly be?”

People who are used to placing black women into ideological boxes often misinterpret me, even when I’m literally showing them otherwise—because they are so brainwashed that their imagination has grown inflexible.

It’s either love or hate. If they want to love me, the only way they can love me—is by painting me as something that I am not. Because, the alternative is to hate me.

And yet sometimes—the hate never comes, because I don’t fit the narrative of someone they’re supposed to hate.

But they later realize they can’t love me either-because I don’t fit the script.

So what happens in that liminal space? (((Up next on the twilight zone)))

Anyway, I knew I deserved the funding but I was always scared that someone in that organization would discover the true contents of the book and I’d get cancelled all over again. So initially, I thought about not sharing my completed project at all.

I didn’t have to; there were no obligations for me to report how I spent the money, or even to finish the project within the proposed timeline. I was totally off the hook.

However, I decided to let them know, because I wanted to ask them to be my reference for other creative endeavors. Over the next year, I will be applying to other opportunities that require a recommendation letter (yuck!), and part of my email was to ask if they’d be willing to support me.

I could have very well asked them to recommend me, while hiding my anthology...

But It was important to me, that they at least knew what I produced with the money; that I was an excellent steward of the thousands of dollars they gave me; that I not only managed to create and publish the book within less than a year, but I also received another grant to create an accompanying talk show-style video with my authors, and market it to the extent that it has become a #1 best-selling new release within its niche on Amazon.

I say I’m proud of myself, and I wanted to stand in that pride.

Sharing my work was a personal practice of owning my greatness and not shrinking in the shadow of other people’s fears.

In doing so, I braced myself for potential backlash and coldness. And that’s exactly what I got—in the calmest way possible.

Read more

This may come as a surprise and/or disappointment to some of you, but I am tired of talking about gender ideology.

Hear me out.

For the last 4 years, I have devoted much of my creative practice to researching and writing about transgenderism’s impact on myself and other black women, especially those of us who love women.

I’ve focused on the racist and colonialist tactics of the trans movement, as well as the particular ways in which trans activism disproportionately harms black women.

I have broken this ideology down and exposed each and every one of its shallow roots, its hypocrisy, and its far-reaching damage—especially towards the most vulnerable groups on our planet.

My writings on this subject have been passionately astute outpourings. I have felt deeply called to do this work, because I know that I have the skillset, mind, heart, and positioning to bring perspective to this issue in a way that is not otherwise spoken for.

This blog has also been a refuge for me to process the most painful aspects of how this ideology has impacted me and my community, and a space to process the everyday grief I endure as a result of openly affirming the truth. It still is.

But let me be honest: I am tired, and I’ve been tired for a while.

Opening my feed to see people screaming “Men cannot become women!” is draining as FUCK!!!

I understand that there are people out there who still need to see this message, but I am not one of those people.

And there are only so many ways you can creatively remix this statement before it wears itself out.

So, I am tired. Or should I say re-tired?

Because the birthing of my anthology, “She Holds The Line” has completed the mission of me articulating everything that I have to say about this subject.

I have an entire archive containing dozens of writings on gender ideology...

But there are 3 foundational works I’ve created (and worked exceptionally hard on) that I think everyone should read if they want to get a solid grasp on the subject:

• How The Trans Movement is Erasing Black Women From History: Setting The Record Straight About Pauli Murray

• Transphobia is Not Real

• She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology (The Anthology)

I wrote each of these works with the general public in mind (which I do not always do). If someone genuinely wanted to understand my point of view, and learn foundations to properly and holistically deconstruct gender ideology, there we have it.

And without further ado… (((cue looney tunes music)))

That’s all folx!!!

OK, not exactly…

What I mean is—I want to write about other things that move me. I am not a political puppet—I am an ARTIST. I have always peppered my blog with writings about other topics; pretty much whatever I want, to the utter delight and/or shock and dismay of my subscribers. Even my youtube channel, which I started in 2008, platformed my hodgepodge of well-articulated, yet totally left-field thought.

This marks a more intentional shift towards that.

I already have another memoir brewing in my womb, and other topics that have been on my mind and heart. New things I want to learn about, and new things I have to say, and old stories I have yet to share.

I have *gasp* other controversial opinions. Maybe nothing as holistically catastrophic as believing men cannot be women...But, things that would make certain people angry.

Like, my beliefs that cats should have freedom to enjoy nature, my affirmative beliefs on the “right to die”, Pan-Africanism, or…seriously wondering if I should be single and celibate for the remainder of my youth, despite being a total siren.

My platform is not centered around controversy—but this marks a shift for me to welcome more diversity in my research and writing, and more breathing room to focus on other creative work.

This summer, I will also be reviving my Women’s Wellness platform, and further pouring into my own emotional and sexual healing journey. The fruits of this work will be shining through, and I will also be sure to announce the release of my new platforms when they are available.

It’s not that I’m going to stop talking about gender ideology completely. This is something that impacts my daily life, whether I like it or not. And because I’ve gone so public with my views, I’m now properly going against the grain in society.

That said, I am a full-time working Artist. And in my opinion…given the quality, consistency, and authenticity of my work—I should’ve been a Substack bestseller.

So, if you want to compensate me for my work, especially through the economic risks I take for my outspokenness, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. 💐

(((¡Shoutout to my paid subscribers!)))

My outspokenness will always follow me like a shadow—even if I decide to make art about bubblegum and lollipops for the rest of my life.

So I anticipate that there may continue to be things I occasionally need to speak and/or vent about regarding the trans issue—especially how gender ideology impacts me as a whole person. Everything I have learned about gender ideology informs the consciousness of my work, no matter what I do. And (unfortunately) I retain a hyper-awareness about transgenderism that influences how I move through life.

🎼Every step I taaaake, every move I maaake…

I am also open to further amplify my voice on platforms that feel aligned and authentically welcoming to my perspective on the subject.

Not the ones who want to use me as a scapegoat for their corny-ass liberal circus show….but the real ones who are ready to talk sense amidst chaos.

Real Recognize Real.

I expect that in 5-10 years when this hollow empire starts to visibly crumble, people will come sniffing around for the OG’s who have held it down this entire time, and that would most definitely be me.

I am not necessarily seeking such opportunities now, nor do I expect them to be handed to me in such a culture of fear; but I am open to them as they arise. Hay Oprah!

So, sit back and enjoy the ride.

The end of an era marks a new beginning, and we’re just getting started.

Thanks for rocking with me. 🌺

Editor’s Note:

This is a guest post written by , a brilliant writer who is currently incarcerated in Chowchilla Women’s Prison. Tomiekia is one of our honorable contributing authors for my new anthology, She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology.

This essay is different from the one published in the anthology, but it shares the same theme about Tomiekia’s eye-opening experience and insights about being housed with male inmates, including more detail about the puppet masters who have created this reality for women.

You can read more of Tomiekia’s work in She Holds The Line. Enjoy!

Complicit Judge Favors Male Convicts in Women’s Prisons

Please pick up your clothes, we have them folded! Is the over represented attitude of incarcerated women in the Central California Women’s Facility where Eastern District of California (Fresno) Judge Jennifer L. Thurston refuses to ship out predator male prisoners from the women’s quarters where we are under constant attack.

With astonishing and copious evidence of these predators criminally engaging in rapes, batteries, unwanted touching on women’s breasts, swiping genitals across women’s buttocks, exposing genitals in women’s bathrooms and other shared spaces, has taken a backseat for profits dispatched to government officials, the fractured prison medical apparatus, ambushed mental health programs, and supporters of the game men and judges play with women’s lives -- making abuse a lucrative business.

Ostensibly, Judge Thurston is a loyalist to the Democrats as she fails to return men to their own prison, complicit in inflicting more harm upon women hiding in our cells. Her negligence implies she disgracefully believes it’s legal for incarcerated women to have consensual sex with male convicts. According to the California Title 15 Rules & Regulations and the Prison Rape Elimination Act, it’s a criminal act for any inmate to engage in sex. “No means no, and yes is not allowed,” appears affixed to prison walls throughout the complex.

I dare Thurston to apply her wrongheaded premise to Custody Officers who women’s organizations like California Coalition for Women’s Prisoners, led by rep Colby Lenz, accuse of rape and sexual misconduct without fail, to shift the attention away from the male convicts they keep in our women’s prisons for sexual gain and t-axpayer funded gender transition surgeries to the tune of millions annually. How about teens that “consent” to have sex with adults? According to Thurston’s logic, pedophilia should also be legal.

California is one of the oldest holdover slaver states who don’t care much about the wellbeing of its tenants. I’ve blown up so many lives California could’ve salvaged, but profiting off cruel and unusual grim treatment is more important to politicians like Gov. Gavin Newsom and Senator Scott Wiener, who passed and authored SB132, which forcibly houses men in the only 2 women’s prisons of 33 prisons statewide, and Judge Thurston, who turns two blind eyes to strong evidence of male convicts Dancing at the Pink Pony Club victimizing women. In Chandler v. CDCR, filed again 7/19/24, after Thurston d-ropped the original case filed in 2021, Thurston is still working to protect the male predators who actually inserted themselves in the case as “interveners.”

Now one would think, men trying to figure out how to stay in women’s prisons would be on their best behavior. Not so, interveners Tremayne Carroll and Kelli Blackwell are the most rebellious against the law. Undoubtedly, it’s incredibly difficult for male prisoners to abstain from sexual conduct with broken down women who have arrested development dating back to when they were first incarcerated. I submit it’s a bigger struggle to be an unattainable attractive incarcerated woman, independent, wise, healthy, successful, uncompromising and completely out of their reach.

The stalking, sabotage, and sexual harassment I’ve experienced is nauseating. Thurston; Newsom; Wiener; the most accountable, are negligent and derelict in their duty as they sit with knowledge through eye witness accounts of crimes against women, and blood on their hands. They simply don’t care.

Intervener Carroll was finally charged with rape and witness intimidation and sent back to the men’s prison (should’ve never left). This was only after he stalked and harassed me for years, allegedly raped and impregnated women, beat one fetus from its mother’s womb, then buried it in the yard.

Intervenor Blackwell is another well known mean predator. His female cellies complained about him sitting at the table in the makeshift kitchenette commando, genitals hanging between his legs. He would harass them at the sinks while they brushed their teeth, styled their hair, and applied makeup.

One of Governor Newsom’s Peer Mentors told me Blackwell was the vixen victim of a woman taking sex from him. I opined, he is so familiar with manipulating P-REA to his benefit, he should’ve easily reported her for rape -- crickets. A coworker described an on the job situation she had with Blackwell. She was “shook” when the 6-foot-1, man bulked and “snapped” on her while she gave him instructions in her role as “lead.”

Other coworkers described the lead as “usually very calm, but he rattled her,” leaving her trembling after a verbal dispute with Blackwell. Women complained about Blackwell sharing the workplace low partition bathroom, citing, “he thinks because he sits down it’s OK. We still know he had to move his parts... He gets upset when women wait until he is finished to use the bathroom.

We will never be comfortable with this, and only the women who want to be intimate with them will be.” One upside, when a Blackwell victim spoke out, the Board of Parole Hearings commended her for growth, reporting abuse. A stark contrast from when I spoke out and was put in solitary confinement.

When I reported sexual harassment, stalking, and a-ssault by Florencia-13, Transnational gang member, Michael Contreras, who once blew the head of a fellow gang member clean from his shoulders, I was placed in a human size cage, shackled and perp walked to confinement for “protective custody.” Contreras was an “enforcer” for the Mexican M-afia, o-rdered to “t-ax all d-rug dealers...to kill rival B-lacks...” (Police Magazine) While in the men’s prison, he was charged with the murder of a fellow prisoner, and accused of raping another. Still, Gov. Newsom and Senator Wiener’s criminal SB132 policy, encouraged him to invade and prey upon CCWF.

The latest breach of my privacy came when one of Newsom’s most disrespectful constituents, Mr. James Robinson, who sat on San Quentin’s Death Row 30 years, stalked me. He is known for the infamous “Subway Murders,” when he, self described, “popped those two kids” while buying a sandwich. Twice he came to my cell pretending to look for my cellies; I was in my underwear, frozen. It reminded me of when Michael Contreras would push a woman in a wheelchair down my hall while I was stepping from the shower.

I would step back in to avoid his gaze; Which is precisely why I had to verbally embarrass Mr. Robinson in the laundry room when he put his grimy hands on my wet bras and panties. I felt so violated, as this predator was already accused of having visible boners in his state issued panties. His cellies said he would rudely hang his underwear in the shared commons spaces, gawk at their behinds, and slammed metal drawers to scare them awake early in the morning.

One woman said, “this is an antagonizing individual. He never lived with men in San Quentin.” She opined, “how could he fit in with women?” But it’s Gov. Newsom who allows savage men who committed murders heinous enough to earn them the Death Penalty, to be loose among the female population, as he desegregated Death Row for his failed “California Model,” pet prison project. And his codefendant, Senator Wiener, craftily plays both sides of legal fences. He is a proponent of criminalizing women who are trafficked by pimps he slaps on the wrist.

Wiener is fine with women prostituting themselves but frowns upon those who report rape, and he supports laws that get predator pedophile men off the hook for sexing little boys. Philanderer Newsom, and Oscar Mayer Wiener’s behavior are consistent with d-rug addiction and sexual misconduct that warrants investigating. And Judge Thurston doesn’t fall far from the t-ree, refusing to recuse herself from a case where her real estate husband financially benefited from.

Although Thurston peeps Behind the Barz watching incarcerated women be sodomized, impregnated, and beat down, her commitment to the LGBTQ+ has recused her from issuing a preliminary injunction to protect women. Conversely, and ostensibly, she helped protect her husband’s multi family real estate broker business, issuing a preliminary injunction to prevent law enforcement from making lawful arrests on illegal immigrants -- her husband’s best customers. Folks were outraged, calling for Thurston’s arrest for obstructing justice.

Incidentally, during her confirmation hearing, Thurston was asked, “if there was a domestic violence call with allegation the aggressor is armed, who should respond? Police or social worker?” Thurston recused herself here to, replying, “this is an important decision for emergency response personnel. I lack the experience to opine.” Do-nothing judges create the need for vigilante just-us seekers like a Tomiekia Johnson, Karen Read, even Snowden. Especially when we’ve been sabotaged and framed by corrupt law enforcement.

Unfortunately, some incarcerated women are gullible, easy, plain stupid. They need Judge Thurston to protect them from bad choices, remove male convicts from women’s prisons, abolish SB132, and ban men from ever being housed with women again. Additionally, Newsom and Wiener have used male convicts to destabilize women’s rehabilitation, making them dependent on d-rugs, meds, and dysfunction that leads to depression, overdoses, suicide, and higher recidivism rates, bringing them right back to prison upon release!

I wouldn’t be surprised if Newsom and Wiener have risk assessments that include life insurance policies for women killed by their narcissism. While Judge Thurston sits pleasantly on her hands, I recommend her overseers demand she protect incarcerated women, or recuse herself entirely from the bench. Incarcerated women want predator men to pick up their clothes, we have them folded; Meet us at the door; It’s open!

Author Biography

Tomiekia Johnson is a B-lack Christian mother of a collegiate-scholarship-basketball-playing daughter following in her footsteps, a former drama and theater student with a Bachelor’s in Public Administration, and former CHP Officer, with 15 years of law enforcement experience. Wrongly incarcerated, she is a journalist, author, poet, orator, women’s and girls ‘ sports rights activist, aggressive whistle blower, inside organizer, art curator, rapper/spoken word artist. She has a credential as a Minister of the Gospel and facilitated Grief Share in the Protestant Chapel, Live-Learn-Prosper, Life Skills, and has a special credential to train potential facilitators throughout the entire inmate population – T4T.

Tomiekia wrote “Looking Through The Window: Incarcerated Women Struggle With Faith in Prison”, “B-lack Widow”, “They Not Like Us”, “Grooming Officer Johnson: a Journey from the Academy to the Penitentiary”, and started a handful of additional books still being lived out. Upon release, Tomiekia will be a momager to her daughter, a supportive family member, doting friend, active church member, domestic violence survivor advocate, girls’ and women’s rights speaker, and trauma-informed consultant to high-profile people who are fed up with yes men and women. Tomiekia trusts God, bets on herself, doesn’t suffer fools well, and never bows to Baal.

Calls to Action 📣

Tomiekia is newly on Substack! Subscribe to her blog for future writings.

Join thousands of others in supporting Tomiekia’s journey to justice by signing her change.org petition to be granted commutation so that she can return home to her family.

If you appreciate this essay, please share it with others! Thanks for your support.

Greetings Everyone!

I’m very proud and excited to share our groundbreaking podcast discussion for She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology!

Our discussion features myself alongside two of the book’s co-authors, Krysta Elora and Sia Mensah.

We dive deep into the personal journeys behind the essays and poetry we contributed for the book—including a rich discussion about our experiences as LGB and detrans women, how trauma informs trans identity, the religious nature of gender ideology, the particular burden of transgenderism on black women, and more!

But don’t be fooled—amidst all the serious and vulnerable talk, we had a BALL!!!

✨Vibes, Vibes, Vibes✨

So, sit back with a cup of tea and enjoy this 90 minute watch. I guarantee you there is nothing quite like this on the internet!

How to Support This Video

If you love our discussion and you would like to help this video (and the book) reach a wider audience, please visit this link to watch on Youtube, like the video, leave a comment underneath the video, and share the direct link with your networks!

Likes, comments, and shares boost the video’s visibility in the Youtube algorithm—especially when they are made within the first hour of the video’s launch.

Also, please restack posts about the videos so that it can circulate on Substack, including this one! Over the next several days, I will also be posting short video clips of our podcast, so you’re welcome to share whichever clips resonate with you.

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She Holds The Line is now available for purchase! You are welcome to order your copy of the anthology here.

This amazing project was made possible by an Artist Grant from FAIR in the Arts. Thank you for believing in this project and investing in my vision!

Thank you also to my paid subscribers and everyone who has supported my work over the years in various ways.

I appreciate you and I hope you enjoy this beautiful project. Enjoy 🌺

This is an narrated excerpt from the Introduction of my latest book, “She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology,” a groundbreaking anthology of personal essays and poetry exploring the adverse impact of the transgender movement on the lives of black women. You can find a full book synopsis here.

She Holds The Line is now available for purchase. If you enjoy the anthology, please leave a review, share the book with your networks, and recommend it to your library.

Next week, I look forward to sharing our amazing video discussion with two of our co-authors about the topics presented in this book. Stay tuned!

Thanks so much for your support! 🌺

She Holds The Line: An Introduction

This anthology has been a long time coming. Ever since I started researching and writing about gender ideology in 2022, I have always envisioned black women’s voices uniting as a collective force. This book is a manifestation of that vision.

From day one, I have been intentional about creating greater visibility for black women so that we can know we’re not alone, and carving out a space for us within this social and political discourse so that the rest of the world can learn from our wisdom and our lives.

Black Women’s Studies has been a passion of mine from a young age. In 2013, I published my first feature-length documentary film, Reflections Unheard: Black Women in Civil Rights. Reflections Unheard focuses on black women’s contributions and political marginalization between the Black Power and Feminist movements of the 1960s and 70s.

In many ways, this book carries the same spirit as Reflections Unheard. I am bringing forth illuminating stories and powerful, highly impactful voices that don’t get as much shine as others, due to marginalization and silencing.

But before I get into the nitty-gritty about the ethos behind this black women-focused anthology, let’s ground in a few basic terms for those who may be new to the concepts of “gender ideology,” which we will be discussing in this book.

* * *

Gender ideology is a philosophy in which gender identity supersedes biological sex. In practice, this happens by privileging transgender identities in law, medicine, social life, and many other facets of society.

For example, if a man believes that womanhood is based on looking or behaving a certain way, he may also believe that he is a woman because he aspires to have those qualities. If he lives in a society that enforces gender ideology, the law then allows him the right to demand that others treat him in alignment with his self-perception.

Notice that I am using the words concept, philosophy, and transgender-ism. It’s important to note that “Trans” is, by definition, rooted in self-perception and chosen identity that is often influenced by a learned set of beliefs about gender stereotypes.

Unlike race or biological sex, transgenderism is not rooted in anything material. It is also not a medical status, sexual orientation, aesthetic, personality trait, or innate quality.

Trans is just an identity.

Of course, different people may have their own convictions about how they define transgenderism—and that is exactly my point. When you read the dictionary and legal definitions of Transgender, it is defined by one’s personal identity. And when you compare that to a variety of trans perspectives, including people who have “detransitioned”…you find that trans identities are based on fluid concepts that anyone can mould to their liking, and opt into or out of as they see fit.

In modern times, the Western world has codified gender ideology into law and society. So, for example, if a male chooses to adopt a female gender identity, the law will treat him as a woman.

Because males have obvious physical strength over women, and because men are women’s primary predators, transgender laws have placed women in an even more vulnerable position, as it is now legal for males to infiltrate female-only spaces which were originally designed for our privacy, protection, and holistic wellbeing.

This is not just a hypothetical problem; it is a very real issue that impacts women at all levels of society. The everyday woman who relies on female spaces for professional opportunity, gatherings, healing, or even just to use the public restroom, is impacted.

But the most vulnerable women amongst us are impacted even more severely. Women who are under the stewardship of the state by way of incarceration, domestic violence survivorship, and homelessness are now forcibly housed with abusive males who identify as women. And because it’s legal, their cries for help are often ignored.

More women are being raped, bullied, and impregnated in captivity as a direct result of transgender self-ID laws. As black women comprise 30% of the prison population and over 40% of the homeless population, despite us being just 13% of the U.S. female population, we are disproportionately represented in these vulnerable groups.

Women’s safety is only one slice of the problematic pie. There are many physical and psychological harms being done to children, LGB people, and trauma survivors who genuinely aspire to be perceived as something they can never become through false identities and experimental cosmetic surgeries. Additionally, those who rely on controlling other people’s language and natural sensibilities to validate their own self-esteem will inevitably find themselves frustrated and deeply unwell.

This is one of the biggest factors that pushed me to begin speaking out: Policing and Control.

The amount of policing towards women to stay unquestioningly silent became increasingly impossible to ignore.

But here, we don’t get in line; we hold the line.

* * *

Gender Ideology came into my purview early on, through my personal relationships and my involvement in various “LGBT” communities. Initially, I embraced Transgenderism because I misunderstood it to be a natural part of the gay and lesbian spectrum. It was only after transgenderism entered mainstream consciousness and corporate affairs, when I found myself being pressured under the weight of a rapidly changing language and culture that erased, shamed, and neglected women under the guise of progression.

But when I finally began to research the topic to further clarify my thoughts on the issue, I noticed that all the speakers were white. The most visible speakers were, of course, conservative men and women. However, the talking points which most resonated with me were those of liberal women’s rights advocates and detransitioners who questioned the progressive status quo—the “gender-criticals”…yet they too, were overwhelmingly white.

Ironically, the whiteness of gender critical discourse tends to backfire on itself. Gender-criticals are ignorantly pegged as “racist white supremacists” by leftists—the main group that they’re trying to educate...and I do feel that optics play a large role in that.

Aside from whiteness, Gender-critical people are further stereotyped as conservative, homophobic, religious zealots, or just plain ignorant and hateful due to lack of contact with the transgender community.

This anthology pushes back against all of those stereotypes; not necessarily through our writing, but because of who we are.

I think that in any movement, it’s incredibly important that everyone who is impacted has a voice and proportionate visibility, because it creates balance and depth of understanding around the root issue.

Of course, I always knew that the most visible voices weren’t representative of the full picture. I felt like the whitewashing of gender-critical discourse was a byproduct of white people simply defaulting to whiteness—even when other groups are equally or more heavily impacted by the issues at hand.

This is a common issue in many different spheres. It’s not so much that black voices are intentionally excluded, but moreso that we’re not thought of. Or if we are, we are only thought of marginally; not in any way that suggests our perspectives are integral. This, of course, leads to a situation where our perspectives are not actively sought out. The result is that most established platforms end up being very homogeneous.

Meanwhile, I deeply care to hear from black women. For me, our perspectives are not marginal or “niche”—they are a must. I was always scouring the Earth to find us, and here we are.

On a personal level, I felt very alone in my consciousness for a long time. I knew that these issues impacted us in unique ways that were not heard of, and that in general—a record of our dissent needed to be created. This book fills that gap.

* * *

What I love most is the incredible diversity of this book. Yes, we are all black women—but we come from different backgrounds and lived experiences. We have women in age ranges from Gen-Z to Boomers; lesbian, bisexual, and straight women; women who have previously identified as transgender (or loved someone who has); mothers and childfree women; currently and formerly incarcerated; and of course, we hail from various careers and passions in life.

There is also incredible religious and spiritual diversity amongst our authors. Some women are Christian, some are Jewish (or exploring Judaism), some were born and raised Muslim (although they are no longer practicing). And some, like me, are Spiritual, and may practice indigenous African or Pagan traditions, but are otherwise non-religious.

I think this is important to note, because our spiritual diversity represents the black community. Most black people are spiritual in some way, but that does not necessarily make us religious zealots. Many of us have also had the privilege to heal our religious trauma. Not only does this make us sensitive to the religious nature of gender ideology, but we are also highly empathetic towards people who have shared similar backgrounds, no matter how they may identify.

The result is that this anthology is quaintly sized, but incredibly rich and powerful. Each piece carries its own unique wisdom and magic. Together, we all pack a punch!

If you’d like to support this anthology or learn about the authors, you can find more information at the end of the book.

I invite you to read this book with an open heart and mind, keep it on your bookshelf as a companion to this cultural discourse, and allow it to widen your perspective.

Thank you.

Greetings Everyone!

I am very proud and happy to share that my latest anthology, She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology is now published!

Book Summary

She Holds The Line is a groundbreaking anthology of personal essays and poetry exploring the adverse impact of the transgender movement on the lives of black women.

This powerful collection features 13 African-American women who courageously share their narratives of how the modern trans movement reinforces oppression and erasure within their own lives, and the world at large.

Through vulnerable stories and sharp analysis, these women critique the political rhetoric of queer culture and share their vision of what true liberation and healing can look like for all of us.

The women featured in this book hail from all walks of life. We hear from detrans, lesbian, and bisexual women, women who are currently and formerly incarcerated, as well as artists, academics, mothers, and veterans.

Many of the authors have been subjected to cancel culture in their personal and professional lives for questioning or rejecting gender dogma, while others have experienced more severe abuses as a direct result of modern transgender self-ID laws, which allow men more liberal access to female spaces.

The powerful stories contained within this book shatter common stereotypes of who holds dissenting views on this subject, and why.

Readers are invited to open their minds and hearts along with this book, allowing it to expand their worldview.

Featured Authors include: Venus Angela, Krysta Elora, Dawn Jackson, Tomiekia Johnson, Tiffanie Victoria Jones, A’Ja Lyons, Sia Mensah, Khadijah La Musa, N3VLYNNN, A. Shanté, Sibyl Shaw, Shawn Walker, and Kristin Zebrowski.

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Where to Buy The Book & How To Support

She Holds The Line is now available for pre-order on Amazon, with an official release date of May 30th for both print and ebook versions. I also have a limited number of signed print copies available on my Artist website.

You can preview the book and find all purchasing links here.

If you enjoy the book, I highly encourage you to leave a review on the platform where you purchased it, and recommend it within your social networks and public library.

Amazon sales and reviews really help to boost the book’s overall visibility.

So, if you know that you would like to leave a review, I highly recommend purchasing the book through Amazon to support its initial launch.

EDIT: Wow, A few hours after this announcement, all of the signed copies in my Artist website shop are sold out! Thank you so much for your support. I have updated my website with a 2nd indie option to purchase the book apart from Amazon.

Bookbaby offers authors higher royalties than any other platform, and they are the ones who printed my book. You are still welcome to leave a review on their platform!

The book is available on a few other platforms too-I am just recommending the stores that are most impactful to the success of the book right now. Whichever way you choose to support this project will be much appreciated!

This month, I will be sharing a voiceover excerpt of the book’s official Introduction, and I will also be sharing a video discussion with the authors, so stay tuned!

Thanks for your support 🌺

I have received mixed responses on my essay that questions whether trans apologists can be true friends with gender-critical women. I know I initially posed it as a question, but the truth is not so murky. So let me be clear:

Over the years, loads of women have told me that they have friends who disagree with them on the trans issue. But there is one thing they all have in common:

They end up silencing themselves to some degree about this subject in their relationship, because their deeply-held convictions make the other person uncomfortable. There is a point they reach where depth of connection remains inaccessible due to the other person’s cognitive dissonance, willful ignorance, or straight up brainwash.

And that is exactly my point: going along to get along, self-silencing, and “tolerance” is not my idea of true friendship. This does not only apply to my own relationships; it represents how I look at friendship as a whole.

But I will speak for myself:

I am willing to hold my tongue amongst strangers, if it is the wiser choice in the moment. I may even be a bit reserved with a new acquaintance, until I know their character.

But I will not cage myself within an inner-circle that requires this behavior of me to maintain a comfortable stance within it. And I will not structure my entire life around making myself palatable to others.

My idea of friendship includes space to rest, fully express, support, and grow together. I should feel comfortable getting emotionally naked with a friend about anything, including this subject. Chosen relationships are a space of deep alignment.

Friendships are not something that I take lightly. The path I walk has eroded the luxury I once felt I had, to take friendships lightly. Illusions have fallen away.

This is why I have walked in solitude for long stretches of time, including a willingness to estrange from my family, and shed friendships that die a natural death:

It’s because I am unwilling to live a lie.

Despite being very open-hearted and loving towards people…if someone is not (or is no longer) aligned with me…they will not be close to me anymore. Period.

This is not coldness; it is clarity. Intimacy is earned through true connection, and connection cannot be forged. It is shown through the substance and health of your relationship, not through its utility or mere presence.

For me, being as outspoken as I am, taking the risks that I do—I have had to unveil people’s character very quickly. The deeper I have gone into my journey as an Artist who pushes boundaries, the more I have had to open my eyes to the truth around me, even when it is hard, heartbreaking, and inconvenient.

Even amongst the more “open-minded” liberals...some can walk a little bit with you on this subject but they will most definitely leave you high and dry when push comes to shove.

I am living that push-to-shove all the time. So I see past the niceties, I see past the surface, and I am no longer thirsty for basic agreeance with my views. At this point, I require solidarity.

But you can’t show solidarity when you are busy walking in the opposite direction.

And that is my point...

When someone adopts gender ideology, they are not choosing their own path, they are choosing a path that has been manufactured for them.

It is a socially engineered conveyer belt, paved along a pretty yellow brick road.

But when you look at the end point of that path, you’ll see that there is no way that you can reject gender ideology, and still be equally yoked with someone who is happily skipping down that road, or simply standing still while it moves beneath their feet. Because ironically, their path is not “inclusive” of people like you.

Sooner or later, you have to get off the road and find people who are walking with you into the light. Otherwise, you’ll just be shuffling around in purgatory, rejecting truth, and rejecting yourself.

It is nothing personal. It’s not about being a good or bad person. It is what it is.

What ends up happening is that many people don’t want to look at the end of the road, or they don’t know how to, or they are not aware that that pretty little road leads them to a very sharp fork that demands strict compliance, where they can no longer hide behind shades of grey.

And that fork usually shows up sooner than expected, because it’s always moving and mutating, designed to catch you off guard, like a random strip search.

And if they arrive at that fork and make the “wrong” choice, they will most certainly be dropped off and left in the dust—whether emotionally, economically, or literally.

I have to look at the end of these roads all the time for my own safety and wellbeing. I have to study the map from all angles and get ahead of the curb. I navigate these roads like a video game.

I can easily discern whether someone is equipped to walk with me. I can see where someone is going, because they show me, and the proof is in the pudding of their life.

But hey, it’s cool if we don’t walk together at the same time! Some people will never get it, while others will catch up later…and that’s OK!

But I am right here, right now. And I am not going to turn around and abandon my own path to close my eyes, play dumb, and hightail my ass down a Yellow Brick road, or allow someone else to weigh me down with their own well-meaning confusion...just because they happen to show up for life in a different place.

Most importantly…

I will not derail myself to hold someone else’s hand, when they don’t even know how to hold mine.

It’s better that we respect ourselves and part ways right here. Because I know what I deserve, even if it’s not standing in front of me right now.

I understand that this is an inconvenient truth, but it is the truth nonetheless.

Don’t shoot the messenger. ✌🏾

Yesterday, I received an email from my father.

I know most of my family estrangement writings have focused on my Mother, but that’s mostly because I’ve been estranged from my Father for much longer, and the wounds I have from my Dad are not as fresh.

I have also had a more distanced relationship with my Dad throughout my entire life. While my father has made a huge impact on my life, his parenting has mostly happened at arm’s length. Therefore, my relationship with my Father has carried less emotional complexity than that with my Mom.

Being that I hadn’t spoken with my Dad in a few years, and I thought he had given up on contacting me, I was surprised to see a message from him in my inbox—and a sweet-talking one, at that. I’d like to share what memories, thoughts and feelings his message brought up for me, and how I’d like to move forward.

Read more

I often hear gender-critical women talk about how open they are to having friends who don’t think like them.

But it’s interesting because these friends who “don’t think like them” are never red pill bros, white power skinheads, “minor attracted persons” or other blatantly loathsome individuals who just happen to think “differently”. No.

They are always exclusively referring to people who follow trans ideology.

Because the truth is, most people who have swallowed the gender kool aid are not the snot-nosed, entitled, blue-haired college kids.

They’re everyday people who latently function as plain-clothes officers of white liberal neocolonialism.

Many times, these people may be pleasant to spend time with, and you may actually have a lot in common with them—but they fundamentally disagree with your deeply-held convictions around how transgenderism is destructive to women, LGB, and children’s rights.

What’s most telling is that the amount of grace we offer to gender ideologues is always a one-way street.

The amount of understanding, compassion, and tolerance you have for that person’s viewpoint (and humanity) will never be reciprocated back to you.

And that’s because the one-way street you’re walking on with that person has in fact, been socially engineered.

People who have adopted gender ideology are not just believing in an abstract theory; they are also adopting a social doctrine. In order for them to maintain good standing in their belief, they also must also adhere to a specific set of rules and behaviors.

So whenever I hear that a gender-critical woman has friends or comrades who disagree with her, my question is:

Is that your real friend?

…

And whenever I hear people talk about the “importance” of having friends who don’t think like them…my question is:

Why?

Now, I can understand the importance of listening to people with different viewpoints, and potentially engaging in a respectful discourse with them.

But Why is it so important to pour into building relationships with people who are not like-minded?

Even on the most primal level...does that make sense?

Is this something we’ve told ourselves we should do because we think it makes us a better person, or is it because we feel desperate?

Let me tell you a story of someone I recently became acquainted with that put these things into sharp focus all over again; reminding me that friendships with people who don’t share your values, or who blatantly oppose or misjudge them—are not “expansive”; they are actually incredibly limiting, isolating, and imbalanced.

I’ve come to recognize that if you’re invested in whitewashing yourself to meet someone where they’re at, you’ll inevitably miss out on the people who are truly available to connect with you on a holistic level.

Read more

Greetings Everyone,

I am proudly delighted to share some exciting news!

This morning, I sent my anthology, She Holds The Line: Black Women Speak on Gender Ideology, to the printing press.

This means that the book will be available for purchase within the next few weeks! I will be publishing an announcement, as well as an official introduction of the book in my upcoming posts, so please keep an eye out.

Also…

I am one of the grand prize winners of an Artist grant from ! 🎉

FAIR’s support will be funding an author talk and book launch for She Holds the Line. My intention is to offer space for a Q&A so that readers will have an opportunity to join our discussion about the topics and stories presented in the book.

I will be sharing more information about that in the coming weeks as well.

Thanks so much for your support! 🌺

I recently attended a screening and discussion of the Watermelon Woman, a 90’s black lesbian film written and directed by Cheryl Dunye.

Having already seen the Watermelon Woman a couple of times, I didn’t really care to watch the film again. I purely attended this event for the community vibes. I was hoping to meet new people and enjoy an interesting discussion about a lesbian film that is refreshingly void of gender ideology.

The audience was a diverse crowd of mostly Gen-Zers, and the panel discussion featured two millenial black female archivists.

Given the youthful demographic alone, I had a feeling that queer confusion would be introduced into the discussion, and I was right.

The panelists brought their expertise on excavating black history through archival materials, and most of the audience’s questions were related to identity—of course, affirming the validity of transgenderism.

And ironically, at some point—the panelists brought up Pauli Murray.

One panelist said that she doesn’t know which pronouns to use when speaking about Pauli Murray. “Was Murray transgender, or nonbinary?” The idea of Murray being a woman was not included in her array of possibilities. Either way, she didn’t know. So, when it came to pronouns, she used none.

But even that choice to use no pronouns was criticized by the Pauli Murray Institute (the cite of Murray’s childhood home)—because they insist on posthumously framing Murray as a nonbinary trans person.

“Language is imperfect” one of the archivists shrugged.

And this is the thing…people, especially women—are always acting like this is a complicated issue when it’s not.

Erasing a historical figure’s pronouns while saying that language is imperfect and limited—is a way of taking yourself out of the hotseat to have to think and engage critically with the work you’re already doing, and the communities you’re serving.

And there is something about that which is not only intellectually disagreeable to me—but misaligned on some deeply personal levels.

This event really drove home the fact that our generation is really stuck in a box in terms of their social and political framework.

Like...I knew that already.

But leaving my house and entering real spaces where I am exposed to people who ask genuine questions through a lens that already blindly accepts these spoonfed ideas as truth…while acting like they’re free-thinkers…without even being conscious that they are staunchly following a very specific organized religion...

Meanwhile, I sit there knowing that there’s no “safe space” for anyone to push back…

Knowing that their fragile beliefs are abundantly cushioned by social police officers and fierce overlords with real institutional power, who intimidate dissenters into silence…

I was reminded of why I feel so alienated from these spaces to begin with.

Because it’s not just that I disagree with the politics of gender ideology.

It’s deeper than politics. It’s an energy.

It’s a way of being that I don’t resonate with.

Spinelessness, conformity, and blind followership is corny as fuck. It’s not cool.

Even when it’s done within a subculture.

It is a low vibrational frequency.

And trying to pass it off as something more elevated than that—is even cornier.

I see right through it, and it turns me off.

While I understand this mentality from top to bottom, I can’t relate to it.

And being around it drains my energy really quick.

Because I’ve spent years expanding into my own inner-sovereignty. I’ve walked through fire, experienced the pain of isolation, and rebuilt again—just to protect and preserve my ability to think and create freely, and be loved for exactly who I am.

Socializing in spaces that carry this mentality, asks me to stuff all of my expanded state down into a tight little box, slap on a label on it that doesn’t reflect reality, and mute all of my vivid colors. Even if it’s just for a couple of hours.

Being in a space where I am looking at people on stage with similar qualifications as I…and knowing that I will never have the privilege to be on that very stage and share my own authentic gifts…is draining.

These are not spaces that support my self-actualization, and they are spaces where I will always, at best, only be appreciated on a surface level.

And there is grief there.

Read more

This weekend, I opened my inbox and saw an email that bedazzled me:

New Founding Paid Member to N3VLYNNN!

✨Wau! Amazing.✨

The Founding Member subscription is the highest paid tier with a suggested option of $240 year. A new patron has generously expressed how much they value my writing.

I excitedly opened it, only to feel all the joy evacuate my body when I read my mother’s email address.

Read more

A couple of weeks ago, I watched a Youtube video on Them called “Will 8 Masc Lesbians Disagree With Each Other?

Surprisingly, the entire cast was entirely comprised of masculine-presenting lesbians, and there was no funny business with including men who identify as butch lesbians. So, I watched the whole thing.

The premise of the video was simple: each cast member shares a “controversial take”, and the cast members will stand on the side of the room that represents their personal level of agreeability with it.

There were all sorts of silly “controversial” takes that were not the least bit controversial, such as: “I enjoy dating bisexuals” or “Monogamy is embarrassing”, etc.

But the one take that caught my attention was:

“Masculine lesbians can be just as feminine as feminine lesbians.”

Suddenly, all the lesbians under 40 rolled to one side of the room to agree with the take, leaving the elderly black butch lesbian to disagree all by herself.

One of the younger cast members said to Pat (the elderly butch), “If we’re doing it based on clothes, I’m over here with you…but inside, I’m still a woman.”

Pat clarified, “I am a woman. I am not a man. But I think differently from my feminine counterparts, and it is not the same.”

Then, then some other cast members started explaining that they are “all female” and “girly-girl” on the inside, despite their masculine appearance.

A thick wave of annoyance washed over me.

If you are just as feminine as any other feminine woman, then how exactly are you masculine?

What does the word “masculine” actually mean if you are defining it through women who are the polar opposite of masculine?

And, you see, this is what irked me.

Because this is what queer culture does. It mish-mashes clear language into meaningless slop, and demands everyone to soften their spine for the sake of inclusion, so that those who don’t authentically belong to a particular group can identify their way into it, as they wish.

I knew that the younger women were trying to be “progressive” and make it so that butch women would not be placed into a box.

But unfortunately, it’s not giving liberation. It is giving confusion.

It’s giving: anyone can be a “masc” lesbian.

All it does is erase what it means to be a butch lesbian, through erasing the meaning of masculinity, and conflating womanhood with femininity.

As someone who is attracted to masculine lesbians, this is the sort of phony-baloney nonsense that has discouraged me from dating.

Over the years, I have found some common themes around the effort to water down the masculine lesbian identity in the name of “inclusion” and “freedom”.

One of the most prominent themes is the complaint that femmes treat masculine women like men, and expect them to take on a “male role” in the partnership.

Now. I am not going to deny that many women, no matter how they identify, can bring patriarchal baggage into their lesbian relationships. Expecting a masculine woman to “act like a man” is one manifestation of that.

However…what exactly does that mean?

Because most of the time, when I see “masculine women” complain about being “treated like a man” she always follows it up with statements about wanting “princess treatment” from their girlfriend.

In other words, she wants to be a feminine counterpart to her feminine partner, at least part-time.

And that is all well and good!

But my question remains: If you want to be treated like Cinderella at the Royal ball, what exactly makes you masculine?!

Here is my shortlist of what it actually means to treat a woman like a man:

• Expecting her to physically challenge a man to defend a woman.

• Expecting her to lift heavy items that even a physically fit woman would have trouble lifting on her own.

• Expecting her to fully provide for her female partner, financially.

This is right about where the “man treatment” begins and ends in my book.

Because to me, expecting a woman to behave like a man is strictly limited to expecting her to do things that are only fair to expect of a man, due to his unique male biology.

And I must add—there is nothing wrong with a butch woman financially providing for her female partner. Some women are very much capable of doing so.

I only added finances to my shortlist because I am of the belief that a man should be able and willing to financially provide for his female partner because he is capable of impregnating her and thus, reducing her capacity to provide for herself.

This is part of why women look for men with resources as part of natural selection; it provides security for the unique risks she takes in sharing her body with him.

And once again, it boils down to biology.

In lesbian relationships, this is more of an option rather than a need. Personally, I think that taking care of bills is a masculine quality, and it’s OK to want a partner who likes to pay for things.

But ultimately, how much money each woman contributes to courtship or shared bills is based on what is fair and/or mutually desired for the unique relationship dynamic, rather than a necessary gender role.

Anyway, I digress—if a woman prefers women who are more dominant…it does not mean she is treating her girlfriend like a man.

It means she enjoys masculinity.

In reality, femmes are being shamed for being attracted to women who “present” masculine and also desiring the inside to match the outside.

We are shamed for not rolling with the punches when we unwrap the irresistible box of butch goodies only to be met with a “fluid” limp-wristed Queen.

Here is my actual theory on this huge “Queer” resentment against butch-loving-femmes such as myself:

Read more

Yesterday, a reader of mine recently expressed “concern for my mental health” under a note where I shared my experience and assessment of sexual harassment.

She did not explain why. But, I had a strong sense that I was being pathologized for the way I perceive and articulate predatory male behavior.

I can discern between judgment and genuine care, and this was definitely the former.

Upon reviewing the story I wrote, I realize how easy it is for people to blow off my experience as paranoid delusion.

A man was staring at me from a distance, I got frustrated and traveled for 1 hour to visit to another part of town, and the moment I sat down—it happened again.

SO unbelievable!

Because what a coinki-dink that not one but two scary men are preying on me?

Sounds like the premise of a horror movie that only a psycho would conjure as reality.

I must have imagined the whole thing!

It must be a coincidence that so many horror games and entertainment are based on the simple reality of being a single woman going about her life, minding her business.

I just want to make myself abundantly clear:

Sexual harassment is an extremely pervasive aspect of my public life, particularly in major cities and urban centers, where I have lived for most of my life.

It is not only possible, but very common for me to be harassed by men multiple times throughout any given day.

Let me share this story with a little more detail:

Yesterday was a beautiful day. I sat down on a local park bench and noticed a man was standing and staring at me from a few yards away. His whole body was turned towards me, and his eyes were fixated only on me. I tried to ignore him. I gave him an uncomfortable look. He didn’t let up.

I got up and tried to to sit in a different spot in the park, but nowhere was as comfortable as that bench. I sacked the whole idea of visiting my favorite park to read a book, and left to visit another part of town, traveling for an hour via public transportation.

After visiting my favorite store, my feet were hurting so I sat down on the bench outside.

As soon as I sat down, I noticed a man staring at me from 2 benches over. He was positioned towards me in the way someone would if they were having a full blown conversation with me. He remained silent with a slight smirk on his face as his eyes remained fixated on me. I got angry, frustrated, and walked away.

This is not an outlandish story. It is a blow-by-blow record of a completely normal day (actually one of the better ones), and stuff like this happens ALL THE TIME.

Yes, I know I recently published a post about how I’ve been struggling with insomnia for a little while, feeling sad/like crap some days—and someone has weaponized that against me to conclude that I am now imagining men staring at me all over town.

NEWSFLASH: This has been happening on the regular since I was 13 years old.

If you don’t see that this is not isolated to my perceivably “broken” mind, you are living with your head in the sand.

Why should I even have to make my story digestible to people who would rather question my sanity than give me the benefit of the doubt?

What hurts so much is not being believed, having to have so much burden of proof to get any support—and now, having to prove that I am sane.

And I get it: not every woman shares the same experiences with male harassment. Some women experience much less of it due to their environment or their appearance.

Aside from that, many women also dissociate and numb themselves to the pain caused by men in their sphere. Culturally, we are taught to laugh it off and think it’s normal. Men are given grace, while the burden of proof and adjustment is on women.

I know a lot of women are desensitized to sexual harassment. I am not.

I know there are plenty of people who do not view intrusive staring as sexual harassment, who generally have an extremely narrow idea of what constitutes sexual abuse, and who only validate women who fit this exact model of a “perfect victim”.

I am not one of those people. I will never allow myself to normalize dysfunction, just because that is how other people choose to live.

And I am not going to internalize other people’s judgments that something is fundamentally wrong with me for noticing and speaking up.

It is hard to receive so much “energy”, fully understand what it is, and not be desensitized to it. But my internal world is more peaceful and aligned because of that same discernment and sensitivity,

Regardless if y’all think I’ve lost my mind!!!

The real insanity comes through gaslighting, and you’re not going to lead me down that road.

My mind is my best asset and you’re not going to convince me that it’s “unhealthy” or defective because I’m spitting truth.

I’d rather you think I’m crazy, than for me to think I’m crazy.

Given that my interactions with men greatly shape my quality of public life, I will continue to share my experiences as I see fit.

Especially with warmer weather coming—yes, you may see some notes of me venting about my public experiences with men from time to time—just like I did last summer.

If you don’t like it, or if it makes you doubt my sanity, “mental health” and credibility, then I suggest you unfollow me and subscribe to people who align with the worldview that matches the reality you wish to see. ✌🏾

Hi Everyone,

I know I’ve been quieter for the past few weeks, and that is because I am quite honestly exhausted. I started out this year by making a publishing schedule, and I had some great ideas planned for Women’s History month.

Then a few weeks ago, I wrote a note about how I need a break from in-depth Substack posts because I am bogged down by insomnia, and my “writing” plate is full with the anthology, and another large creative project.

But I realize, it’s more than that.

Between:

• Insomnia that leads me to wake up at 5am sharp with my internal battery at a consistent average of 55% and bonus: wondering if lack of sleep is slowly manifesting a painful terminal illness where I will have to spend long stretches in the hospital alone with no visitors and/or endure said terminal illness alone in my apartment without any aid.

• Loneliness, Isolation, and lack of community (because we as a culture have insisted that all the social events must die in the winter along with the plants, except for the few events where everyone shows up with their established friends and family group, leaving community-seekers to die in the cold)

• Tons of little (invisible and old) dance injuries that have reared their ugly head to dampen my exciting athletic goals for this winter like getting my splits back.

• Gray skies. Yes, I feel OPPRESSED by the frequency of gray skies we have.

• Dirty piles of snow everywhere

• Continuous Work commitments

• No cats

Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks in February—perhaps as a cumulative effect—and I am very sad, tired, and over it.

Despite my best efforts to stay afloat, I feel like absolute shit. I don’t feel like shit every day, but enough days of the week that it matters. I do not even want to look closely in the mirror most days, because I don’t want to notice my eyes. I haven’t cried about it yet but maybe it’s coming.

The wins I’ve made recently (which there have been many) have felt nice—and I will be sharing them soon—but I think I have been too underwater by the combination of these aforementioned things to celebrate them as fully as I’d like.

Instead I spend most of my time just trying to drag myself around to do self-care, tend to responsibilities, and plan for my future.

It does help. And I have come so, so far. And I give thanks for everything I have.

But I am tired. Not just physically, but emotionally.

Deep down I believe things will lighten up, but I am so heartbroken that I find myself jaded by the thought of summer.

I crave sustainable wellness, not just another season.

So I just want to be honest about my capacity—I have had to pull away from Substack because I am working on other big things—the fruits of which I will be sharing soon—and also because-every other day, despite my efforts, I wake up feeling like a partially charged battery in a life that requires my full power.

The only thing that has been bringing me comfort, ironically, are (of course, cat videos) and AI-animated African folktales. It might sound crazy, but I’ve been really into those folktales, despite turning my nose up at first.

I wrote a whole post about it, but I haven’t published it because it felt too awkward and left-field. However, in light of sharing this post, perhaps I will go out on a limb and publish a post on my favorite comfort videos.

P.S. thank you to my paid subscribers who continue to support me! I intentionally avoid looking at my metrics because it’s emotionally distracting, but I accidentally opened my dashboard today and noticed that I haven’t had the mass-unsubscribe that I had been imagining 🥲

Thanks for your support. 🌺

Happy March! I hope everyone is excited for Spring. 🌺

Since we are on the cusp of Black and Women’s History Month, I’d like to share a roundup of my best essays and podcasts I’ve published on Black Women’s history.

Through the stories of 3 different women, my essays explore the intersection between 20th century black lesbian life and the American transgender movement, from past to present.

You can find a brief summary of each topic and links to their essays below.

Pauli Murray

“How The Trans Movement Is Erasing Black Women From History: Setting The Record Straight About Pauli Murray” is a deep dive into the life and legacy of Pauli Murray, exploring how her intimate yet well-documented struggle with gender and sexuality during her youth has led major modern institutions to posthumously rewrite her as a transgender man.

The full essay is available for free as a 45 min. read. If you prefer to listen to the essay, paid subscribers can access a downloadable audiobook version with curated music. You can alternatively purchase an ebook version of the essay here.

As a follow-up to this essay, I also published a separate article which transcribes the letter Pauli Murray received from her friend in 1941, discouraging her from going on testosterone. An audio version is included in the post.

Gladys Bentley

My essay on Gladys Bentley is unique from Pauli Murray’s in that Bentley attempted to use estrogen to perform conversion therapy on herself in the 1950s.

I find it fascinating yet sad that both women were seeking to “straighten out” their butch sexuality through medical intervention, but in opposite ways.

This essay is a deep-dive into Bentley’s life journey and personal challenges, her career a famous American singer, and the unfolding of her path towards what she saw as “real womanhood”. The full article and downloadable podcast (with curated selections of Gladys’s music!) are available to paid subscribers.

Annie Lee “Jim” Grant

Annie Lee Grant is a lesser-known figure who became a media sensation after being discovered as a male-passing butch lesbian in the 1950s.

Much like Pauli Murray, Annie Lee has been posthumously re-written by modern scholars as a transgender man, when that was not the case.

This essay unravels the hilarious story of Annie Lee Grant, and clarifies the difference between her intentional “passing” lifestyle vs. transgenderism.

I also share my critique on “A League Of Her Own”, a modern television show which features a historical character who lived a similar life as Annie Lee Grant, and who was also sneakily written as trans.

Just like my essay on Murray, I visited an archive to do my research, so I have included plenty of original prints, photos, and news clippings.

I learned so much when researching for these essays, and I hope you find them as enlightening and enjoyable as I did!

Thanks for your support. 💜