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oh don’t mind us. the hoochies just ending the year with joy, glorilla, laughter, and grinchmas fun.
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sometimes that’s all you need. breaking bread and creating memories. here’s to the people that are y(our) soft places to land, friends, and family. happy holidays. 🎄♥️💚

#grinchmas #freedom #connection #love #friends #holidayseason

the end of the year always brings even more reflection outta me. as i think about this year alone, i think about…how much i cried. i think about a moment back in may specifically. there was a storm coming and i didn’t care. i was overwhelmed, anxious, and i needed to be outside to move my body. with the rain coming, i was reminded of janie starks in Zora Neale Hurston’s “Their Eyes Were Watching God”. in the film’s final scene, janie (halle berry) runs after water. her face in the water first, then to the sky. and as she looks at the clouds…we hear the voice of her husband, Tea Cake (micheal ealy). he asks, “whatchu doin’ janie?”. to which she replies….”i’m watching god…”
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that scene stayed with me. water, in all its forms, has a way of calling us back to ourselves. the rush of rain. the flood of a storm. the unrelenting fall of tears. for janie, the water wasn’t just water. i think…it was a mirror. a reckoning. a baptism. a new beginning. it marked her liberation. and her surrender to the fullness of life and love, even when both had left her scarred.
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that day in may…i felt like janie. running to find something. to feel something. as the rain fell, so did my tears. and i didn’t stop them. i let them flow. because sometimes? sometimes you gotta pop out and… let what’s inside you spill over. no matter how messy. or no matter how inconvenient it feels.
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as i reflect on this year… i think about the storms we’ve all faced. the sunshine that (hopefully) came right after. and how…we’re still standing. we…survived. the tears we cry aren’t a sign of weakness but rather…our own lucky charms…for becoming. for peeling back the layers to discovering more of who we’re meant to be. free and unbound. unbowed. unbent. and for damn sure…unbroken.
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here’s to the storms, the tears, and the water that carries us toward freedom. and most importantly…here’s to the “janie”s in all of us. watching god. and… watching ourselves evolve.
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#igdaily #instalikes #writing #blackwriters #healingvibes #liberation #lifeafterloss #supportblackcreatives

in this chapter of my life, i spend my time writing about the complexities of Blackness. what it means to embody that reality in this country. how it’s all tied up in our health and what makes us well and free. and violence in our community. and also... how we commit violence against ourselves.
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there was a long time when i couldn’t see myself beyond the gaze of others. when i literally prayed to be pretty. to fit into the molds the world deemed worthy. i wanted to be admired, desired, chosen. but in all this seeking. seeking proximity to whiteness, to eurocentric beauty, to the expectations of who i was supposed to be…i was hiding from me. the real me.
it’s taken years to unlearn that the real betrayal wasn’t in not being enough for the world. it was in convincing myself that who i already was could never be enough for me. and that journey still isn’t “over” for me. it’s still…concurrent…with all of my other life paths. it’s just that now…i don’t pray to be anything else… other than MY version of solid. and to love what i see when i look in the mirror…without apology. to stand on my truth, my people, and my freedom.
and most importantly? to never again kill parts of myself to keep other people comfortable.
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this world will tell you who you need to be. but your liberation? that’s in remembering who you already are. do you know who you are?
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#liberation #truth #identity #collectiveliberation #youdeserve #wellness #beauty #instagram #writersofig #storiesmatter #healingjourney #selflovematters

grieve with me for a sec? 😞😤🥹♥️
what are you doing to honor the things you’ve lost?
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from my journals to you- letters to my papa- on the anniversary of his transition. December 6, 2022.
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grief has no manual. no roadmap. no guide to tell you when it’s time to stop screaming into the abyss. or whispering to the dead. the past two years…i’ve been both student and subject. writing my way through the wreckage of losing my grandfather + surrogate father. these letters are raw. they’re messy. they’re full of rage, regret, love, longing, and truths too heavy to carry in silence.
grief cracked me open. it dragged me through the shadows of suicidality, swung on my ass in the ache of loneliness, and mollywopped me numb and into exhaustion. and sometimes. well…a lot of times. joy snuck in, too. uninvited but necessary. a small reminder that life doesn’t stop even when it feels like it should.
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in this world that doesn’t give a damn about Black pain, i’m learning to sit with me and mines. to hold space for it. to scream when i need to. to shed when i must. to honor the rage, sorrow, AND the moments of hope and light. THIS is how i care for myself. THIS is my self-preservation.
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this post isn’t just a look into my grief though. it’s a critical gaze into the weight we carry in a world that denies us the right to mourn fully. it’s an unflinching reflection on the agony, resilience, and humanity…we’re often forced to suppress. for every person carrying loss in their hearts, caskets to the ground, and tattoos of loved ones we’ll never see again… what’s dead may never die. so, i hope you honor them. and i hope you honor your grief, too. give it a name. write it down. let it take up space. grief doesn’t have to break us. but it will change us. we should let it. over and over again…until we’re home again within ourselves.
✨

can you be faithful to you…even when you’re lost?
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for generations, we’ve been shackled. not just in body..but in the essence of who really are. what we’ve been told who to be. how to move. what to desire. how to love. we’ve folded ourselves into cages made by hands that use iron fists. and we forgot and/or neglect…we have the keys.
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here’s the thing about freedom. it doesn’t ask for permission. it whispers. then roars. then it dares us to ask: who am i…really? and what is it that I want? not what our parents told us to want. or what we heard from pulpits. not what keeps us safe. but what is our real…truth?
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i’m finding that the more we evolve and the more we are really honest with ourselves..our search for our truth is never…stable. we grow, and maybe it’s even messier. we meet new people, and maybe it gets a lil slippery. we experience new things and truth can be like water. shifting back and forth. flowing. refusing to be held in shape for too long.
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it’s terrifying to think when you ride truth’s wave though…you might ‘get it wrong’ (whatever ‘it’ is for you). to untether yourself from generations of “shoulds” and “supposed to’s.” but i think… despite everything we’ve been socialized to think/believe…we can choose what “wrong” is. there is only me. there is only you. we get to choose. not history. not insecurity. not patriarchy. not religion. and definitely…not fear.
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whoever is experiencing this season of unfolding with me, let’s be steadfast. let’s be patient. and… let’s let the storm clear the way. no matter how long it takes.
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#instawriters #writerscommunity #wordsofpower #blackidentity #embody #liberation #truth #identity #collectiveliberation #youdeserve #wellness

end of the month dump. november 2024.
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i could feel it. this month asked me to embody. to commit. to balance. i did my best to listen. through discomfort, i trusted. i tried to find solace within. i discovered patterns of my becoming and gave grace for my being. i said year 28 was all about “rebuilding”. and even with the salty and sweet days this month…i’m still growing. i’m still coming home to myself.
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i ain’t the same woman i was. it’s all love and fun here. 🧡

this time in 2022...was the last time i got a “piece of money” from my grandfather. it’s something he always did. sliding me money before i left home. nothing more than $20-$30 usually. thanksgiving ‘22, his vision slightly impaired, he offered me a 50. and i told him...”you sure? i’ll be back for christmas.” well...i was back for christmas. he just wasn’t.
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it’s thanksgiving. and the holidays just remind me of...what’s missing. papa. my uncles. my granny. and this being a now...fragmented family. it reminds me of change. and how much we’ve undergone the past couple of years. i miss everyone. i miss my grandfather. i miss the gatherings at my aunt shirley’s house. i miss traditions we never had.i miss...old versions of me. i still miss...who i was before grief.
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today…i’m letting myself feel it all. the love that lingers. the ache that sharpens. the gratitude that feels like a quiet thread…holding it all together. grief and gratitude. they go together real bad when you think about it. they sit side by side. uninvited guests at the table, both asking to be heard.
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if your heart feels full and fractured all at once…please. pretty please. know you’re not alone. make space for the memories, the tears, the silent prayers. let what’s missing…remind you of the love that still lives within you. and maybe. just maybe… the best thing we can do today is be. be messy, tender, grateful, grieving, and everything in between. sending love to you and yours. keep your hearts loaded. carrying both light and loss. love you.
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#instalove #thanksgiving #grief #griefjourney #healingjourney #lifeafterloss

✨ no one can validate us 24/7. that’s not their job…it’s ours. ✨
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some will choose to see only fragments of us. or previous versions of ourselves. holding on to their limited view. that’s fine. as long as you see yourself whole. as long as you hold yourself. as long as you…can always come back home to you.
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i pray we all take up space as we grow. as we question. as we unfold. let ourselves evolve without rushing to box in our identities. or abandon the truths we’re just beginning to hold.
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not everyone will choose us. our hopes. what we could be. or what we choose to embody. and it stings. sometimes…deeply. but rejection doesn’t rewrite our worth. or our journey towards freedom. feel it. process it. and remind yourself…you are more than someone’s half-hearted offering of crumbs. we deserve altars of love, authenticity, and reciprocity….because we are the feast. 🍞✨
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#instalove #writers #writerscommunity #wordsofwisdom #blackwomenwrite #affirmations #youdeserve

some days…the journey inward is a quiet rebellion. other days…it’s a loud revolt. against fear. against self-doubt. against the parts of me that despise…visibility. lately...i’ve been choosing to expand. to hold the messy, the tender, and the critical. with love. with safety. with…capability.

(for anyone else who needs it…you can do these things, too.)
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
. #igdaily #writersofinstagram #wordstoliveby #blackwriters #affirmations #collectiveliberation

in a world obsessed with big egos and bigger achievements, there are actually things i don’t want to accomplish. things i don’t want to strive for. things i don’t want to be proud of.

- self-abandoning
- being perfect
- ignoring grief
- overworking
- hoarding money
- gatekeeping love
- avoiding conflict
- escaping alone time
- leaving...over and over again

my real wins…are about staying true, staying still, staying authentic...witnessing myself…letting myself be seen. and most importantly…committing…to me. over and over.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫

🇺🇸♥️ Took a few days to process 11/5. I couldn’t just jump in to post anything. No encouragement. No positivity. I knew I wanted to come with what I do best….raw courage. raw…feeling. And now, more than ever, I hope we are all reminded…of something I wrote I earlier this year- that much of the world doesn’t care about Black pain. I can only hope that one day…some day…it will. And until then? If there is ever a place to feel, ever a place to lash out, ever a bottomless space for your anger…I hope it is here.
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After the final US election results, I kept seeing the following quote by Toni Morrison, “This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge — even wisdom. Like art.”
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So here it is. My art. My writing. My feelings. My letters to this country. Flowing from my deepest and rawest corners. Filled with terror of my own, anger unleashed, disappointment, sadness, rejection, grief. May you find your own emotions in these words. May community, healing, and liberation find you. And wrap you in their warm embrace. And most importantly….may mother god, father god, and the god(s) of our ancestors…help us all. stay free. 🇺🇸🖤

#wordsofpower #fortheculture #liberation #storiesmatter #freedom #collectiveliberation #instagram #bettertogether #election2024 #healing #healingjourney #communitycare

🌍🇺🇸 for missing and murdered indigenous women. for refugees and immigrants. for the working class. for palestine. for...the REAL… people. i’m rooting for…everyone who’s been pushed to the margins. for every soul touched by the weight of colonization, oppression, and this country’s carceral state. as election day nears tomorrow, remember….ultimately, no one in that “white” house can save us. AND... that no matter who sits in it, our liberation is ours. 🖤
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the walls of that place were built to uphold systems meant to divide us, but regardless…we’ve been here...surviving, creating, loving, and thriving...together. and it’s all because of the strength in our unity. in our shared hope. in our intertwined stories. in our refusal to be boxed in and/or silenced. so. as the world continues to be set ablaze and we move past 11/5…the marathon that is the struggle for freedom, rising, resisting, and showing up...always continues. stay free.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#wordsofpower #fortheculture #liberation #storiesmatter #freedom #collectiveliberation #instagram #bettertogether #election2024

✨our bodies will know the way, way before we ever do. wisdom we can’t always name. stories of resilience, joy, friendship, love, pain, and power. embodiment isn’t just our self-care. it’s our soul-care. 🌿
spirit says…in a world that often wants us soul-less, our bodies are sacred. every heartbeat, every breath, every ache and ease…whispers the answers we need. spirit says…embody. the healing, the knowing, the freedom. spirit says…embody….everything. 💫
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#content #wordstoliveby #fortheculture #healingjourney #healing #youdeserve #blackliberation #embodiment #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

end of the month dump. october 2024.
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i prayed to….
alchemize.
evolve.
fall in love with the changing colors of my own leaves. and my own seasons. 🍁

From the most desperate parts of me to the most desperate parts of you. May we all find the water we need for the parts that are parched.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#content #wordsgram #blackwriters #blackwomen #spilledink #healingjourney #youdeserve #blackliberation #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

this is for deidre. mary. wynter. and all the bodies before them and after them. and all the bodies that’s kept me awake at night. and all the bodies that keeps me haunting my purpose. and all the survivors, too. i couldn’t let this month go by without acknowledging you. without acknowledging how you’re intertwined in my journey. without acknowledging…how we get free.
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✨October is #DomesticViolenceAwarenessMonth ✨
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Did you know nearly 45% of Black women will experience intimate partner violence (IPV) in their lifetime? 🖤 And while domestic violence impacts ALL communities, the Black community faces unique challenges rooted in systemic racism, historical trauma, and a deep mistrust of law enforcement. We need community-based solutions that are FOR US and BY US and that center healing, safety, and justice for Black survivors everywhere.
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⚫ Black women are disproportionately affected by IPV, and are nearly 3x more likely than white women to be killed by an intimate partner. ⚫ Black men, trans women, and queer folx also face high rates of violence, but their stories are often overlooked. ⚫ Why don’t we hear more about this? It is often due to stigma, stereotypes, a lack of culturally responsive resources, and our own culture…that keep survivors from coming forward or getting the help they deserve. ⚫ Healing start with us. 💜
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Swipe through for the facts, challenges, and call to action. Together…day by day…with every little step we take…we can (re)define what safety and liberation means. ✊🏽

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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#content #words #blackwritersofinstagram #fortheculture #publichealth #equity #violenceprevention #safety #socialjustice #domesticviolence #domesticviolenceawareness #domesticviolenceprevention #communityhealth #blackliberation #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

[⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING FOR VIOLENCE, RACISM, & THE TRUTH ⚠️]
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It ain’t safe, it ain’t safe… for Black people, Black youth, Black women, Black birthing persons, Black families, and Black communities…to keep facing cycles of violence without this country addressing the systems that perpetuate it. I’ve been sitting on this piece for YEARS. Guess the timing is perfect. In my latest piece, I dive into everything in my dissertation and what I’m interested and passionate about currently-how neighborhood safety perceptions in childhood impact community violence in adulthood—and how systemic racism, state violence, and structural disinvestment are all part of the story. But it’s not just about the problems in our communities—it’s about the power of reinvestment, healing, and creating safe, thriving futures. ⁣
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Check out my new article, “It Ain’t Safe, It Ain’t Safe: Community Violence, Perceptions of Safety, and Systemic and State Harm in Black Communities” on Medium and my website.⁣ Links in bio.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#instawriters #words #blackwritersofinstagram #fortheculture #spilledink #blackstoriesmatter #publichealth #equity #violenceprevention #safety #socialjustice #communityhealth #blackliberation #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

travel with me for a sec? 🚘

have you ever seen someone in a new light, not because they’ve changed, but because life finally gave them some room to show you more of who they really are?

that’s what this next chapter is for me and my nana. growing up with her and my grandfather, there were a few things i saw for sure. her strength. her stress. her love. her service. but as we ride this highway of life and grief together, i get to see her in a way that just feels…different. she’s more lighthearted, more open, and so much more….(I think) herself.

when we departed for atlanta, all i could think about was what happened the last time i was there. how visceral it felt to cry so uncontrollably when it was time to leave. how I saw pieces of a place i once lived, laughed, and loved in…and how it all seemed…rearranged. fragmented. reorganized. yet still…familiar. the chapter of my life in atlanta had a lot of skeletons. memories I buried and took a long time to revisit.

with my nana though, the brief girls trip to a place of my past was worth it. and so was visiting some of my old stomping grounds. and letting the memories seep through, too. me and nana laughed, shared more stories , and I experienced more of her personality in all its fullness. most importantly…i got to experience the city….as a new thing.

we travel well together despite her love of shopping and me loathing it, her casual indecisiveness and my (very) type-a planning, and her being “responsible” and me always down to do some drinking. our travel “glows” of this trip were wine tasting, the farmers market, sleeping in, and shopping. our travel “grows” are improving my flexibility, how we maximize our stays, and how much my discover card is discovering debt. 😭

anyway yall. grief and loss, in all its forms, has been a constant companion for both of us these last (almost) two years. not all due to my papa’s transition. but also losing pieces of previous versions of us, losing parts of who i thought i wanted to be now, losing slices of passed time. and even so…we have moments like this…that remind us…of all these different wedges of joy. Thx ATL 💋

#freedom #travelgram #atlanta

i hope this one clinches the desperate, parched, and deceived parts of you. the parts gasping for love’s breath. the parts being choked with your refusal to accept yourself. and when the grip tightens, i hope you lose what you’ve been trying to find all along. blocked from the dopamine of validation. and deprived. from someone doing all the seeing of you...when you refuse to (really) see yourself.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#instalove #wordsofwisdom #blackwomen #blackgirlswrite #blackwomenhealing #selflovejourney #healingjourney #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

first sunday of the month. did you have communion with you? did you give yourself fresh wind? did you give you a new start?
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#igdaily #wordsgram #blackwomenwriting #blackwomenwriters #blackwomenhealing #selflovejourney #supportblackcreatives #stayfree #donatewhatyoucan

(hiatus over fr. back to my regularly scheduled writing/content programming)

✨ coming back with big news, y’all ✨ I’m now officially accepting donations for my writing and content! 🎉 If my words have ever sparked a feeling, stirred your soul, or made you pause and reflect—I invite you to support this journey. 🌻

This space is where Black stories (including my own), truths, and experiences live, breathe, and unfold. It’s a labor of love that requires time, (physical + mental + emotional) energy, and resources, and I couldn’t do it without you- my community. 💫 Your donations help me continue creating work that resonates and amplifies Black voices.

Give what you can, when you can, and... when it feels right. Every bit matters, and I deeply appreciate anything you’re able to share. I know money situations vary, because well....fucking capitalism, racism, neoliberalism,; etc. So. I want this space to always remain open and accessible. Whether you give or simply vibe with my words—your presence means everything. 🖤

Donate at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio to support this work. As always...thank you for following me and being part of my journey. Let’s keep pushing toward our collective health, wellness, and liberation... one story at a time. 🙏🏽✨

#SupportBlackCreatives #BlackLiberation #DonateWhatYouCan #StorytellingForChange #PublicHealth #Wellness #Equity #StayFree

✨ end of the month dump. september 2024. part ii. ✨
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from passenger seats to flight seats. from south carolina to south africa. highlight of the month for sure? being miles away and still bowing down to grief. learning more about freedom being a constant struggle. dancing on another continent. and above all? traveling the world with my favorite girl.

✨ end of the month dump. september 2024. part i. ✨
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savor. abundance. these are the words i told one of the hoochies i was dubbin for september. that i wanted to be more present…in everything. that prosperity was coming for me. september was just that. a good reminder that life and death does, indeed, lie in the power of the tongue. and the power of choosing radical belief, too. i wrote some time ago …that sometimes ya gotta dig ya self outta whatever hole you’re in. well. this is it. this is more evidence of me digging. and digging. and digging. september was more than good to me. even as i savored my sweet AND salty days. i’m forever grateful.

imagine with me for a sec? 💭

it’s pitch black and quiet in a game reserve. you’re in the comfort of a lodge. and you look at your grandmother getting ready to slumber. you look out at the night sky as you write. then you ask her…”what does liberation mean to you?” she pauses. only a brief silence greets the both of you and whatever animals lurks at night. then there’s only three words that melt off her lips like butter. freedom from oppression.

imagine late nights and early mornings with the woman who raised you. imagine fun, exhaustion, laughter, and discovery with the woman whose 77 years of blood and bone you are. imagine sharing secrets, curiosity, excitement. imagine her encouraging you to shoot your shot at a man you may never see again 😜 but she says it’s okay…because you never know what life has in store. imagine…eating, drinking, praying, savoring, and really…living. imagine…freedom.

i didn’t have to imagine any of these. it was my life for almost two weeks. and i loved all of it.

from passenger seats to flight seats. or as my nana said…from the back roads of south carolina to south africa. ✈️

after my papa transitioned, i didn’t give a damn about much. or rather…i didn’t know how to. grief hands life to you, uncovers it, and reveals new priorities. and when the saran wrap is off…you gotta figure that shit out. i think i figured it out. as for me and my house…you can wrap up the success, ambition, and popularity… and gift me all the love, purpose, wellness, and fun to-go instead. when reality hit of where i am in this season. where i’ve been. what i’ve already done. and where my grandmother is in this life. i prayed for one thing. to travel the world with my girl. to offer myself and whatever is feasible as a living sacrifice. while i still have time. so. i waited. i cried. i didn’t know how i was gonna pay for this trip. we mourned. we grieved. we prayed. we still grieve. but most importantly…we stayed and stay…solid. and the universe rewarded us.

special shoutout and thanks to @cs.tours for going above and beyond for our first adventure together. 🙌🏾 and thank u south africa.

#travelgram #visitsouthafrica #southafricatravel #freedom

more like…REST is a habit. get like me?
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my out of office email is on. now it’s time to clock out here, too.
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these past few months have taught me the value, hardness, and rewards of consistency, dedication, consciously choosing rest, and detaching. L’s were taken. “NO” was said. and milestones were still reached. and now? one thing bout me….I’ma shut it down when it’s time… to just do me. so. it’s time to bask. hitting pause on posting content here for the rest of September. 🛑 adventure awaits. ✈️ there’s fun to be had. 🎉 and…i’m choosing for this month to be good to me and another break for me.✨ i’m stepping back to fully embrace the joy of the recent fruits of my labor, new experiences, and the beauty of this changing season.
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september feels like a time for presence, abundance, and solitude. a time to revel in the silence, soak in the shift, and simply…be.🍂
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if you’re reading this…i hope (if it’s accessible to you) that you can take a moment to just be, too. to relish in the bloom that greeted you this summer and embrace the changes that come when your colors change, too. see yall boys in october ✌🏾💛

day dream with me for a sec? 💭
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✨ What would it mean to make the hood great again? To ensure Black youth, young adults, and people everywhere feel “safe”? How do we create communities that are thriving with this notion of safety? And what does that even mean? What would it look like to invest in the future of Black communities (especially in the South)...rather than punish its past? ✨
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Our neighborhoods deserve more than punishment; they deserve reinvestment. They always have.
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#instagram #wordsofpower #fortheculture #blackwomenwrite #blackstoriesmatter #publichealth #Equity #socialjustice #communityhealth #safety #violenceprevention

a question that came to me when i realized that maybe...just maybe...sometimes our suffering feels that much harder because we, ourselves, are making it harder. i’d given my strings to things outside of, well...me. again. insecurity. control. worry. anxiety. (over)working. (over)pouring. (over)loving. perfectionism. whose puppet are you? and who got the strings?
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#perfectionism #selfcare #selflovejourney #healingjourney #instalove #words #blackwriters #blackhealing

end of the month dump. august 2024.
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i prayed, i prepared, i...stepped into more power. ✨

[BONUS POST]
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we ‘re human. we’re alive. we’re a bunch of entangled political histories and present joy, heart, violence, and vulnerabilities. we must take care of ourselves. well. because....at one point there were narratives and every day realities where we couldn’t. and now? we persist...and resist. we stay free.
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#igdaily #wordsgram #blackwritersofinstagram #fortheculture #blackwomenhealing #healingvibes #selfcare #nationalwellnessmonth #blackaugust

untitled / 8.19.24 / 8:09pm
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#collectiveliberation #blackaugust #nationalwellnessmonth #publichealth #equity #socialjustice #instagram #freedom #blackgirlswrite #blackhealthmatters #blackstoriesmatter #words

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@adiarlouden

Writer. Researcher. Storyteller. Soul-Searcher.

I am not your average graduate student by day. I am not to be confined to boxes. I am a Black woman, mad woman, sad woman, bad woman, and everything else all at once. I believe Black women are the most overworked and exhausted people in the nation. Yet, still we rise everyday...to the occassion, to our jobs, families, and everything else but ourselves. So, I write Black women into existence. I help Black and Brown people leak onto pages. Bleed between fine print. And spill the emotions the rest of world tries to wipe away. I tell our stories. Welcome. Come on in. Stay a while. The wonderful photography, aesthetics, and Black people greeting your eyes on this site would not be possible without Black-owned businesses (One True Shot Photography is located in the Triangle Area of North Carolina) and Black and other photographers of Color on Unsplash (Obi at pixel6propix, Oladimeji Odunsi, Eduardo Gorghetto, Mike Von, Zach Vessels, and Inatimi Nathus).