Society has become a spectacle with a magnifying glass positioned over every corner, crook, and cranny. 

I've yet to find solace in the white people acknowledging their privilege or the multi-million dollar companies pledging a week's worth of revenue to atone for their sins. I've felt empty and uninspired, hollowed out by the performances, the "wake up calls," and the overall apathy turned action flooding the public discourse. 

The things that brought me joy just weeks ago no longer hold any weight -- beautiful bouquets of flowers, a perfectly portioned lavender matcha latte, curling up with a book and escaping into my own version of fantasy land. 

So where do I go from here? How do I heal in the midsts of constant re-traumatization? How do I escape the constant reminder that so many did not truly and irrevocably believe me and my people's lives mattered before 11 days ago. I have no answers and society offers no solutions; it is too busy burning down in hopes of being rebuilt in our image. 

There's a light at the end of the tunnel, though. That light? The conversations I and so many others have had in closed circles, unable to share our trauma and hurt without fear of retaliation or gaslighting, are now out in the open. Black women will now and forever more be a force to be reckoned with.