how will you rise?

Birmingham - July 26, 2025

my father taught me how to give all of myself away for a job. he indirectly taught me that in order to be a quality worker, I needed to work hard and have low regard for the parts of myself that would get lost or wounded in the process. “this is what it takes,” he would often affirm. when I called him crying in college, miserable, my tears didn’t matter. “you’re too sensitive. this is what it takes.” when I called him from my first corporate, “big girl job” post-college, he didn’t understand why I was so miserable, numb, drained, and depressed. to him, I was living the life. I had “made it” and achieved the depiction of success he projected onto me, as if he didn’t see the potential and possibility for himself. when I moved back to birmingham post-pandemic, my father watched me break, subtly, right before his eyes, in his home. he did not know how to handle or make sense of a daughter in pieces. burnout and mental health struggles are still concepts he struggles to fully understand and wrap his mind around. “we are downey’s. we are strong” he always says. and yes, we are, but I’ve had to find and define strength in my own way. in a way that makes strength feel like something I can actually sustain, and not something that makes me feel like a living sacrifice. I am coming apart before my father’s eyes again, but he has not noticed the slow and steady slipping away of my essence. I catch my gaze in the mirror while getting ready and ask myself, is he right? and has he been right all along? is this what it takes?

---

Madi,

sisters of the yam has been on my list of books to read for years now. when we saw each other last month, you spoke about the body of work in such a soft, but urgent way, and I knew it needed to be my next read (I don’t take your recommendations lightly lol). I checked it out from my local library (I really had to resist the urge to highlight and annotate all over that book - will be buying my own copy soon!) and devoured it over the course of 2 days. clearly, I needed what hooks had to say. the following are journal entries, reflections, and reclamations inspired by my time reading. I hope you enjoy:

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want.

what I want to do. who I want to be. what I’d like to experience. it is a true and constant practice - reminding myself that nothing is off limits for me. I suppose I’m waiting on life to verify and affirm this truth. to show me better than it can tell me. I’m still waiting.

I declared in my last letter to you that “maybe I’m the big break,” and I wonder if I truly believe that or if it just sounds good to say. I want to believe that I can be a catalyst for change (in my life). let me see it. I wanna see it. let me see it. I wanna believe it. can I trust my power? surrender to my magnetism (and believe that it’s effective and always working on my behalf)? can I fall asleep with the following truth on my tongue: that I am guided, protected, and exactly where I’m intended to be?

but where do I go from here? I am braiding loose ends into my scalp. I am keeping my own secrets. I am haphazardly bumping into myself until I finally say, damn! here’s a hug, girl! and then I hug myself for my bravery, for my courage, for my heart, for my hope, for my dreams, for my uncertainty, for my hurt, for my pain, for my confusion, for my desire for change. I hug my damn self and hold space for all the things I cannot name.

~

I won’t stop until I align with a life that doesn’t ache. a life that I don’t feel the need to escape. I am becoming less and less ashamed of the ways I’ve had to rearrange my feng shui. who taught me that discovery wasn’t divine? that black girls don’t have time? and that “having it all figured out” is the only way to be worth something? I am not the men who didn’t stay or the jobs that didn’t work. what a fucking woman - the type to continuously fight for what she deserves and is worth.

~

I am still learning the difference between difficulty as a sign for me to redirect vs. difficulty as a form of refinement

~

can I be honest?

I don’t wanna keep hopping job to job just to end up in the same misaligned and familiar rut, refusing to face myself. what fears and blockages do I have around allowing my gifts to sustain me? why am I so quick to hop on linkedin without first looking in the mirror to see that I am capable of being my own money maker? what is holding me back from being well-resourced in ways that don’t hurt? why don’t I fully believe that I can make a sustainable living off of being myself? what do I have to lose when I’m at a point where there is so much to gain? when I think of work, what do I see myself doing, being, offering, and experiencing? and do I believe it’s possible for me? can I trust without a doubt that I am en route?

~

I want to get to know me beyond just getting by.

~

the past few months have felt like a constant iteration of things burning to ash for a phoenix to arise. “the fire wants to fortify you,” I say to myself to soothe the burns. life has felt like being on a moving train that is going too fast to jump off or coherently make sense of where we’re even going. staying on hurts, but jumping off at the speed at which it’s currently going will definitely hurt too. if I have to endure some type of pain, which one will I choose? things cannot continue as they have been, but I’m not sure what is worthwhile to build anew.

~

how will you rise?
what if this isn’t a time to be defeated?
what if this time is so divine?
what if what looks like ruin
is possibility in disguise?
what if the tides are turning?
tell me, how will you rise?

---

substack recently recommended a post by

Ayana Zaire Cotton

to me, and I’ve gone down a rabbit hole, binging all of her podcasts and newsletters that have been speaking to my soul. in this specific podcast episode, Ayana asks, “what are your worst fears around surrendering to the call of your divine assignment? what are your top three worst fears around entering into a season of surrender? the season that you know is necessary to realize the divine assignment that is percolating in your inner world.” I took some time to sit with and answer these questions:

I’m afraid that if I’m not pushing, exerting all my efforts, or using my own will to hold everything together, then everything will crumble and come crashing down. I opened this letter giving you the context about my father so you could see where the deep-rooted belief of “if it’s to be, it’s up to me” comes from. my father is a very practical man. the concept of faith still feels flimsy when placed up against the years of conditioning I received from him - that hard work is the sole thing that can save us. I want to believe that my softness can get me somewhere, but I am afraid that that approach is faulty; I don’t fully trust it. I am afraid of being broke, losing what I barely have left, and not being able to sustain myself. to put it plainly, I fear that my desires are indulgent, unrealistic, irrational, and incapable of meeting and sustaining my needs long term. and if I’m deeply honest, I am afraid that what I desire isn’t possible for me. I am afraid that if I said no to all the things that drain me and feel misaligned or obligatory, I would be left with nothing. that to have something means to suffer in some way. I’m afraid of not knowing what to do or what to expect or not knowing who or what will catch me or support me if I take any kind of leap. I still feel wounded and insecure from risks I’ve taken in the past that didn’t quite yield the outcomes I anticipated. there’s also a part of me that doesn’t believe that uncertainty is safe or okay. that believes that any action I take must be backed by having all the answers and having it all figured out before I begin. one of the last fears that came up for me while doing this exercise is the fear of what surrender will ask of me. do I have the room for what surrender will require of me when I already feel as if I’m at capacity and barely holding myself together as is? but I’ve been wondering…what if choosing to surrender is the very thing that will keep me from falling apart?

Ayana mentions throughout the pod how love is the strongest type of force to console fear. I’m paraphrasing, but she speaks to how our fears are usually rooted in concern/protection and just need a little lovin’ to course correct them. per Ayana’s suggestion, I plan to write a personal love letter to my fears very soon. I hope you will join me in doing so.

“As Viktor Frankl writes, ‘When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.’ And sociologist Martha Beck complements that by saying, ‘Any deep crisis is an opportunity to make your life extraordinary.’ - Aletheia Luna x Loner Wolf

I will see you on the other side of facing myself, facing my fears, and allowing surrender to feel safe.

Take care <3,

Keimaya