Fahrenheit 451

Introducing my Substack

For most of my life, I have been misunderstood. Perhaps it’s my quiet demeanor. My unassuming nature. The introvert in me that processes my thoughts inwardly and forgets to express them outwardly through my mouth with sound.

I fully recognize that being misunderstood has led to an aura of mystery surrounding me that causes others to not get too close. I’m guarded, rightfully so. Childhood traumas have me set in my ways.

Over the past five years (since the pandemic), I’ve increasingly grown an aversion to social media. Social media as a utility is deeply flawed yet profoundly dynamic, but I find myself rejecting the social contract that comes with it. Viewed solely as a means for strengthening already existing bonds and connections with friends and family, it appears harmless and congenial. However, in doing so, you might overlook seeing it for the Matrix-like commodity of capitalism it truly is that mines for human exploitation.

In 2020, I made the conscious decision to leave Facebook – the platform where the majority of my real genuine connections exist. By then, the federal government revealed in a scathing report that Mark Zuckerberg and his Facebook algorithm were complicit in spreading Russia’s misinformation and disinformation campaign to influence the 2016 presidential election, aiding in the rise of Donald Trump. I couldn’t stomach the idea of participating in an arena that preyed on Black Americans to sow doubt in our election system and discourage us from voting. So I left, promising never to return.

After Trump won a second time this past November, now with the help of another billionaire Elon Musk and his Twitter takeover platform called X, I swiftly deactivated my X account of 10,000 followers and proudly never looked back.

My point is – social media no longer feels like a safe space for me. I’ve felt this way for several years now. And now that I am an elected official in the public eye, that feeling is magnified. In my quest to be a normal person with multiple intersections of identities and life experiences, my online experience has felt like I get silently judged for never-before-spoken rules that I didn’t even know I was breaking. Because no one would dare say these uncouths to my face. How dare she not wear a full-beat face of makeup in her videos? No way she just dropped an “F” bomb and she calls herself a Christian. I can’t believe she’s a senator and talks in broken English like that? How dare she be photographed twice in the same wardrobe. Who edited her video….Where is her videographer?!

LOL, sue me bitch.

I have always been someone that doesn’t follow trends. I’ve never felt the need to fit in and sit at the cool kids lunch table. Wearing the latest fashion trends or having the latest iPhone invention has never delighted my fancy. I buck the system. I don’t follow, I lead. I disrupt. When many people are going left, I go right. A rebel with a cause. It’s always been in my nature for some reason. I’m built different.

I am different.

So, no, I’m not purchasing a blue check to let an app verify or validate my worth. No, I will absolutely not be reduced to a commodity for stocks and trade. No, I won’t be complicit in a white man’s monopoly game. Count it as my small protest while giving a big fat middle finger to the capitalist caste system we live under. The same system that originated from America’s Original Sin against my ancestors? That commodified my bloodline for chattel slavery’s profit and gain? Nope, won’t do it. I refuse to give away for free my deepest thoughts, best ideas, and hard-earned expertise and advice to a billionaire’s app who will turn my vulnerabilities and lamentations into an advertiser’s click-through conversion rate.

In the immortalized words of Supreme Court Justice Sonya Sotomayor: with fear for our democracy, I dissent.

In (what feels like) a crumbling society where dissenting and diverse voices are being silenced and suppressed, I’m struggling to find a safe space to express my thoughts. Without being put in a box or branded or labeled by that one thing. Without being reduced to a 9 minute floor speech. Without feeling the need to churn out content creation like a machine for likes and views. Without being surveilled by some tech bro hack.

Without the threat of being misunderstood.

Where all of my identities – built on real experiences – can frolic freely.

I am a refugee, of sorts. The kind of rebellion found in the book Fahrenheit 451.

I want ownership of my thoughts. I want a home for the reflections and writings that my children can someday pick up and read about. Maybe 50 years from now my writings will be etched in history like bell hooks’, Anne Frank’s, or Dr. King’s – to be studied, to be quoted, to live on to tell the story of how – and most importantly who – stood up and spoke out against the oppressive regime we find ourselves back under.

Facebook is out. X is gone. LinkedIn feels cheesy. Threads is meh. The jury is still out on Bluesky. TikTok still has a chance. Instagram is my go-to for the time being.

With that said, welcome to my Substack!

In this space, I’ll be sharing my personal reflections on leadership, race, gender and democracy and my real-life journey along the way. In a way that’s too long for a tweet and too raw for a 1080×1080 carousel post. I’m not sure often I’ll post here except for whenever it feels right. I’ll still be posting abbreviated appetizer versions on my Instagram, but come here to my Substack to get the full meal.

I hope you’ll stick around on this journey with me.

Peace.