Hours after discovering my husband’s affair and that his secretary was pregnant, I had to step onto center court and sing the National Anthem in front of a live audience. With my heart completely shattered, I learned one of the hardest truths: real peace isn’t found by avoiding pain , it’s found by going straight through it.

When Strength and Grace Carried Me Through We are not alone. Strength arrived when exhaustion said, “Sit down.” Grace whispered, “Stand up.” The show had to go on, and it did. There was a set to build, a book table to decorate and prepare, and a story waiting to be told. Since December, the flu virus had left my body drained. Being tired or afraid of being tired had not been an option. The Tuesday before the Friday night Zora Neale Hurston performance , I finally surrendered

In the weeks following December 29th, my world had grown very small. I had been home with what I came to call the flu 5.0, a virus that settled into my body, clouded my thinking, and drained my strength in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Some days the brain fog was so thick I had to read the same paragraph again and again, determined not to let the words slip away from me. Other days, simply standing up felt like a decision that required negotiation. In the midst of that healing

After reading Zora Neale Hurston’s Barracoon, something inside me shifted. I realized the most important Black History I can celebrate is me. I Am Black History  because I carry the DNA of survivors — men, women, and children who walked 200 miles barefoot in chains, survived the horrors of the barracoon, and endured the Middle Passage where up to 15% never made it. My DNA was packed like cargo into the belly of ships. It arrived on Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina, only to f