Prowess The Testament

Lately I’ve been pretty quiet, and part of that is because I’ve been healing physically and emotionally. Two weeks of respiratory ick, flu, and prolonged bronchitis will humble you. But also, I’ve been doing a lot of listening and observing.

I went to MAGFest this year and spent time with artists who use their voices and instruments to uplift, to protect, to advocate, and to stand in righteous places. It reminded me why I love creative communities in the first place. At our best, we amplify what matters. We stand up for people who cannot always stand up for themselves.

As a Black woman, I carry a lot. Immediately. Always. And what weighs on me most lately is watching people tear each other apart over perceived “right” and “wrong” ways of showing up. Over tone. Over timing. Over whether someone posted the “right” thing in the “right” place.

We are living in a time where platforms and systems have caused real harm. We have seen how online spaces can fuel bullying, misinformation, and violence, especially toward young people. We have seen how corporate decisions and power structures disproportionately hurt women and people of color. None of this is theoretical.

And yet, people still participate in systems they criticize. We all do, in one way or another. That contradiction is part of modern life. The hypocrisy is not new. What’s wild to me is how selective the outrage can be.

People draw moral lines in the sand over social media posts, while ignoring actual patterns of harm in real life. Friendships and communities get fractured over silence, timing, or phrasing, while truly harmful behavior gets excused if it comes from someone famous, talented, or entertaining.

Some of your favorite artists are not good people. Some have hurt families. Some have lied, cheated, manipulated, and abandoned responsibilities. And yet they are celebrated, streamed, defended, and adored. But somehow, a friend becomes “problematic” because they did not perform their beliefs publicly in a way that satisfied everyone.

Make it make sense.

I have also watched people avoid accountability in real life. Avoid honest conversations. Avoid apologies. Avoid growth. Then turn around and become moral referees online. Policing others. Collecting screenshots. Writing people up like unpaid hall monitors. It feels eerily familiar to the very systems many claim to oppose.

We make choices every day. About how we speak. How we listen. How we repair. How we show grace. How we show courage. About whether we choose understanding or spectacle. Whether we choose nuance or pile-ons.

I am not saying people should not care. I am saying care without compassion becomes cruelty. Conviction without humility becomes ego.

And honestly, some of this discourse leaves me emotionally drained. I mute. I hide. I log off most days. When I pop in once a week, it feels like chaos on loop.

So I’m choosing peace.

I wish peace for all of us. I wish healing. I wish self-reflection. I wish fewer hot takes and more real conversations. More action from compassion and sincerity. I wish more people would sit with themselves long enough to ask, “Am I acting from love or from reaction?”

If you are exhausted from being angry online all day, please give yourself permission to rest. Light some incense. Drink some tea. Hydrate. Take a walk (well, weather permitting). Breathe. Put the phone down. Tend to your spirit.

We deserve better than constant outrage. We deserve community that is honest, accountable, and humane.

That’s all. 🤍 In the name of the Moon, may love and justice prevail.⚖️💖🌙✨