Do the destined get to mourn, to grieve, to have doubts, to say the subconscious part outloud, to follow the intrusive thoughts just to the edge?

Shadow work isn’t for the faint. It’s been said to be the active discovery of the ugly sides of ourselves and “dealing” with them. But what does the “dealing” look like? Is it all pain? All shame? Or is it a time to get to know the us that’s been there waiting, underneath the covers? I sat down with three of my blitchiest sistren: Courtney “Zegasus” Derrell, Mambo Ruth and Shelley Vega to take a deeper dive into the meanings of shadow work and how to best do your own excavating.

In my view, a chronicle indicates that a story is always being reimagined: it may take some turns and pauses, but the story itself keeps moving forward. Lauren and I share the experience of telling our stories on the big stage, surrounded by strangers who have become friends-in-bravery. Recently, I sat down with Lauren to ask some questions.

I wanted to write something about the Black women sex educators I look up to.

I was reminded this morning about my first time tripping the brownie fantastic. In this moment of pandemic, allow me to share a trippy-ass story involving a good sis edible-wielder.

What truly is power? Is it an action? A presence? A state of being.

Is power used to justify or villify? Can power be passed down, like a sacred heirloom only those trusted with the legacy can hold onto? Can abused power be reborn? I asked Nikkea Sharee and Shivawn Mitchell these questions and they provided me some thought-provoking answers. Read along with me.

The double-mindedness of being moved by this thing and being told that this thing is nothing to be moved by. An elder church thing — watching the women in white chastise the “fast-tail” girls that looked like me but weren’t. I didn’t understand why. Why the hatred. Why the words dripping with disdain through furrowed lips.