Hopeful

Hello, world!

I cannot believe it has been over a year since I last posted a blog. Actually, it’s probably been that long since I’ve written anything at all, which is a little unsettling because writing has always been my way of processing emotions, of making sense of the world when it feels like chaos. And if there was ever a year brimming with emotions, it was 2020. What even was that? A year that lasted both 12 months and 157 years simultaneously. A paradox in time. A masterclass in vulnerability, grief, and resilience. A year that left me, someone who is rarely at a loss for words, utterly speechless.

We entered this decade with so much hope, didn’t we? “2020 is going to be our year!” we said, with our vision board optimism and new-decade energy. Little did we know. It began with fire, literally. The devastating Australian bush fires swallowed millions of acres of land, claiming the lives of over a billion animals. My home away from home. It was heartbreak in its rawest form. And yet, we had no idea that the heartbreak was only just beginning. Then came political chaos. Megxit. Trump’s impeachment (the first of many). The disgrace of Harvey Weinstein’s long-overdue conviction. The unravelling of the Epstein-Maxwell horror show. Each event was a reminder that power and privilege can insulate even the worst of humanity—but not forever. Not always. Then came the losses. Kobe Bryant. Chadwick Boseman. Alex Trebek. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. So many icons. So many reminders of life’s fragility.

And just as the world was catching its breath, a deadly virus spread from Wuhan, China, and the world as we knew it stopped. Lockdowns. Stock market crashes. West Coast wildfires. Beirut’s explosion. A global pandemic. And then, George Floyd. The murder of George Floyd was more than just another tragic headline. It was a gut-wrenching, soul-shaking moment. It broke my heart. I have always believed in kindness, in the fundamental goodness of humanity, but in that moment, I was forced to confront the painful reality that cruelty will always be alive, deeply embedded in systems and psyches. I have always held onto hope, but on that day, my hope cracked. Not beyond repair, but enough to make me question—are we really learning? Are we really growing? Are we doing enough?

And then came the protests. The solidarity. The conversations. The books being read. The documentaries being watched. People from all walks of life standing together, demanding justice, refusing to look away. That kept my hope alive. That reminded me that while the world can be unbearably cruel, it can also be beautifully defiant in the pursuit of change.

But then, there’s cancel culture. This is where my heart feels most conflicted. Are we really at our best when we hunt for past mistakes just to destroy someone today? Are we incapable of grace? Of recognizing growth? Humans are imperfect—that’s not an excuse for wrongdoing, but it is a call for compassion. If we demand accountability, shouldn’t we also allow space for redemption? I worry that we are losing our ability to forgive, that we are replacing justice with public shaming, and that in doing so, we are forgetting what it means to be human.

And now, here we are. Over 2.5 million lives lost to COVID-19. Millions still suffering. The world, forever changed. I have been off work for nine months now. As a hairstylist, my job isn’t just about cutting hair—it’s about connection. It’s about the small but powerful moments of human intimacy, of listening to someone’s story while they sit in my chair, of witnessing their milestones, their transformations. I miss that. I miss people. I miss the unspoken magic of community.

But if there is one thing this year has taught me, it’s that we are all in this together. And I don’t mean that in the overused, corporate-commercial kind of way. I mean that our lives are deeply, inextricably linked. What happens to one of us ripples to all of us. So, I ask myself: Am I living a life I love? Am I being the best version of myself—not just for me, but for others? Am I standing up for what’s right? Am I extending kindness even when it’s hard? Because time moves fast. Faster with every passing year. And if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that there is no time to waste. If there is a dream I’ve been scared to chase, I need to run toward it. If there is a person I’ve lost touch with, I need to reach out. If there is a way to make this world even a fraction better, I need to do it.

We need to do it. The world is broken, yes. But we are not powerless. So let’s be better. Let’s do better. Let’s hold onto hope—even when it cracks. We are still here. And that means something. That means everything.                

The below Black Lives Matter movies and documentaries offer powerful insights into racial justice, systemic oppression, and the fight for equality. Through real-life stories, historical context, and compelling narratives, they shed light on the struggles and resilience of Black communities. I’ve watched these films and highly recommend them to deepen understanding, spark meaningful conversations, and inspire action.

The Central Park 5, The Trial of the Chicago 7, When They See US, Oprah’s: When They See Us Now, 13th, American Son, Selma, Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise, Slavery By Another Name, Dear White People, I Am Not Your Negro, Fruitvale Station, Time: The Kalief Browder Story, 12 Years A Slave, Just Mercy, The Two Killings of Sam Cooke, Let It Fall: Los Angeles 1982-1992, Trial 4.

Peace, Love, Stay Safe & Be kind to one another xo