I am not here to beg. I am here to bill.

This is an invoice for the emotional, physical, intellectual, and spiritual labor of a Black woman with multiple degrees and certifications, labor that has been celebrated in February, quoted in DEI decks, and chronically underpaid. Or unpaid. Or both.

I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT

I earned the degrees. I earned the certifications. I built a business helping organizations create psychologically safe workplaces and poured everything into equity work because I believed that if Black women kept showing up and kept proving their value, the world would eventually meet us there.

Then November 2024 happened.

92% of Black women voted to save this country from itself. We organized, zoomed, held the entire coalition together with our bare hands and our exhaustion. The country looked us dead in the face and said “naw, we not listening to none of ya’ll.”

The DEI commitments evaporated. My contracts disappeared. The companies that were so eager to look progressive went silent like they never knew my name. The calls asking me to come fix the mess, though? Those kept coming.

I submitted over 700 job applications. Multiple degrees. Multiple certifications. Overqualified for most. Hired by none.

I have been running a race while drowning. And I kept fighting anyway because that is what the 92% does. But I have finally learned what no one tells Black women until it is almost too late, no one is coming to save us. We have to save ourselves first.

Apparently choosing to do that makes me the villain. Fine. Villain era. Activated.

WHY I NEED HELP NOW

I am at the intersection of exhausted and done.

Done shrinking. Done being told I am overqualified while the work I am qualified to do disappears. Done carrying multiple degrees and certifications into rooms that were never designed to value them when they belong to a Black woman. Done taking care of everyone else while quietly going under myself.

I have tried everything else first, the applications, the pitches, the networking, the pivoting, the surviving on hope and audacity alone. The business is still here. My vision is still here. My fight is still here. But I need space to rebuild on my own terms before I have nothing left to rebuild with.

The time is now.

Every dollar goes directly to three things. Covering my immediate bills so I can stop surviving in crisis mode and start thinking clearly. Funding my relocation to a place where I can rebuild on my own terms. And buying me time, the one thing Black women are never given, to rebuild without immediately drowning again.

No fluff. No overhead. Just a credentialed, experienced Black woman getting the runway she has more than earned.

HERE IS MY ASK

Fund this goal fully.

If a Black woman has ever inspired you, organized you, healed you, or held you together, you already know what to do. If you cannot give, share this. Every share is permission for another Black woman to choose herself too.

The villain is just the woman who finally stopped shrinking. She is worth every dollar of this ask.

THANK YOU

Not in the performative way. In the real way. In the way that one exhausted Black woman means it when another human being actually sees her.

We notice each other. And that is where we start.

With love, boundaries, and absolutely zero more free labor -

Pay a Black Woman Today.