Written in the time of George Floyd and every Black life lost before and after him. To every white person reading this, I want to start with something I mean from the deepest part of who I am. I, Tashia, a human being just like you, value and respect your life. Not because of the color of your skin, but because you are human. That is it. That is the whole reason. Now I need you to extend that same belief back to me. Not as a favor. Not as a gesture. But because I am human too.

Depression is as real as a broken arm. Let that sink in for a moment. We live in a world that has no problem acknowledging physical pain. If you break your arm, people sign your cast, hold the door open for you, and ask how you are healing. But depression? That kind of pain is often suffered in silence, hidden behind a smile, and dismissed by people who cannot see it.

I am not your typical person. I was crafted from the tribulations that didn't break me, molded from the trials that didn't kill me, and strengthened by the God who saved me. I am STRONGER THAN BEFORE because I refused to let my past have the final say over my life