Diary of a Mad Black Woman

Entry 1: 2024 Election....

There is so much I could honestly say at this moment, but whenever I try to speak, silence grips me. Do y'all know what you've just done on a massive scale? You freed us. See, my demographic is used to making a way out of no way—turning slave scraps into sought-after delicacies, turning dirt into gold. We do this in our sleep; it's truly natural for some of us.

I cried today. I don’t like when I’m made to cry over things I can’t control. But I also laughed today. I laughed a lot. As the day went on, my chest felt lighter, and the pit in my stomach shrank. We’re not new to this. This election just solidified what has always been true for my people. What was De Facto will simply be made De Jure. Everything we've been telling you, the warnings we’ve shared, the knowledge we’ve given out for free—our TENS OF THOUSANDS of dollars' worth of education—is going to be everyone’s reality now. Finally, I won’t be seen as Chicken Little. Finally, my reality will be everyone’s, and they brought it on themselves.

I’m going to learn how to grow an abundant garden and care for chickens. I’ll focus on building the life I want, doubling down on it. I’ll learn to shoot a gun and fight for what’s mine. And somehow, that feels like light work.

I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve always felt like being a Black woman is a superpower. I go to an all-white, all-girls private school? Cool, at least I’ll stand out. I go to a PWI? Great, I’ll pimp my situation to suit me. Being a Black woman is a magical experience—there’s no dream too big or glass ceiling too strong. There is ZERO CAP ON MY POTENTIAL. We don’t exist by the same rules as everyone else. Never have. We’ve always been generous with our power. But imagine us being completely selfish with it. Unheard of...until now.

I am freed. Good luck.

Love,
The Swan

Music: “DAMN.” Kendrick Lamar (2017)

P.S. I’ll always organize around the things I value. Don’t worry—I’m just lamenting the inevitable.