See you next week.

After seeing Breonna Taylor’s murderers, essentially walk away unpunished, with one officer charged with the wanton endangerment of the surrounding apartment walls, I’m not feeling quite up to a normal IWW.

I value time. Yours, others who read my writings, and my own, so I refuse to write a half-assed post, when I know that I’m not really feeling it. It’s not fair to any of you or me.

So, I don’t know what this post really is.

I don’t really know what to say.

Other than that I’m enraged, not surprised, saddened, thinking of her last moments, hoping her family is doing okay considering and did I mention how absolutely enraged I am?

I’m annoyed by those who are doing the “thoughts and prayers” show.  I don’t want to hear anyone talk about peaceful protests and marching. I tire of those mentioning hope or that “things’ll get better.”

I simply want justice for every Breonna, recompense for all the harm levied on my and other marginalized communities, and true equality. I want Black people to be actually free. Not free *restrictions apply.

I want us to be safe. Inexplicably. I want us to be able to bask in the confidence of safety. That is so all-encompassing, it makes our already smooth stride, that much smoother.

I want us to feel joy. Perpetually. The kind of joy we all feel at family reunions while catching up with cousins, filling up your current plate and your round 2 plate, dancing to “Before I let go” and watching unc woo all the ladies – in between being the designated grillmaster. Grill shoes required.

I want us to thrive and flourish. Always. Just okay and just getting by shouldn’t be a reality. Be extra. Do the most. Live it up. No need to chase a bag, because the bag is secured, or because we all already have our basic needs taken care of. Cop that Louis or Burkin or build that tiny house or buy the good paintbrushes or get that mansion or splurge on that vanity light or indulge in that fancy chocolate or focus on your passion project or live minimally and invest in the earth. Whatever our hearts desire.

I want us to have our flowers, while we’re here. To feel loved and valued. I want us to be so full of love, love that we have given and love that we receive, that it pours out of our hair follicles, and makes the masterpiece that is our hair, reach even higher to the sky. Or ooze the warm, enticing, comforting scent of coconut oil, shea butter, cocoa, mangoes and papayas.

I want so much for us to not have to live in a society that thinks so little of our lives.

But the reality is that Black lives just don’t matter here. They do to me. To us. Probably to you, even. But they don’t matter, as a whole, to this society.

And I don’t have the energy to put out anything educational right now. My heart wouldn’t be in it. It wouldn’t be honest. 

I wish nothing but self-care and peace for us and I support us in whatever way we respond to this injustice. WHATEVER WAY. 

I’ll see you all next week and we’ll be back at it. Because even though I’m upset and need to rest, we still have work to do.

Until next Wednesday.


When JanayB isn’t posting memes, scrolling through “wokebook” posts, ordering food and otherwise being your typical millennial, you can find her here destroying white tears and basking in her unapologetic blackness. Get in touch with her at

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