Hey, Muse!

Wow! Last night was so surreal. Thank you to everyone who came to our very first Beyond the Myc event.

Hopefully, you walked away with a new appreciation for the unspoken grind before it all clicks and the underlying faith that the effort you put forward will turn into something beautiful.

Again, a huge thank you to Kira J., owner of Golden Hibiscus Botanica, for partnering with us on this event. Even if you didn’t win, make sure you guys support her Black-owned business! She just dropped some new tea blends, so def check that out.

Sending a special congratulations to our muses, Zania and Karleh for being our two giveaway winners! We hope you enjoy your wellness in a cup.

If you missed it? No problem!

The full video will be available for our paid subscribers on May 1st.

We have so much more planned for this year, and we’re so excited for you to be on this journey with us.

Until next time, Muse!

— BtM

If you need the link, here it is one last time: https://events.teams.microsoft.com/event/a5ac65e1-d399-4477-8bd9-17b53d783675@9a0b64ff-f524-475c-8426-a4db15a9162a

See you soon!

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Hey, Muse!

By now, you’ve seen Starting Without a Manual.

You’ve met our muses. And now it’s time to hear their stories.

See you at 7!

RSVP HERE!

In partnership with Golden Hibiscus Botanica.

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Everyone talks about networking — and for creatives, it’s one of the best ways to advance in your career.

But who you’re networking with matters.

Not just the people who’ve been there before, but the ones building it right now, while you are too.

People talk a lot about networking up, but building with your peers is just as important.

Today, we’re hosting Starting Without a Manual.

@beyondthemycheavy on “it could be!” this is for all the creative girlies in media, marketing, entrepreneurship & every muse in between 💖 April 22 @ 7pm RSVP at beyondthemyc.com #beyondthemyc #ghbotanica #musecircle #creativecareers #mediacareers

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It’s a chance to hear from our peers — our muses — as they share their experiences in real time, while they’re still growing themselves.

Creative journeys — whether through corporate careers, entrepreneurship, or content creation — can feel lonely. Having a network of people who understand that makes a difference.

If you’ve been thinking about joining us, there’s still time.

RSVP: https://events.teams.microsoft.com/event/a5ac65e1-d399-4477-8bd9-17b53d783675@9a0b64ff-f524-475c-8426-a4db15a9162a

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Hey, Muse!

I remember the first time I had to go in front of an audience. Well, sort of…

The year was 2005, and I was a dancer in The Wizard of Oz. Or… so they say. I can’t remember — I was only 3 years old. But apparently, I got up on that stage and did my own thing.

The other young dancers and I were supposed to be sleeping in the poppy field, you know the scene.

But lil ole Mycah? She decided she was going to dance to the beat of her own drums.

In ‘09, I starred in my first musical, Rock Around the Block. And by 2013, I was delivering my fifth grade graduation speech.

Little did I know that spark I felt the first time I got in front of an audience would set the course for where I am today — a playwright, journalist, singer-songwriter and now, a media founder.

Starting Without a Manual is today.

And for me?

It’s a culmination of everything I’ve worked toward so far — and everything that’s just getting started.

I’m hosting this conversation with five of my muses — women who are navigating their careers in real time, with experiences worth learning from.

If you’ve been following along, there’s still time to be in the room.

And you can still RSVP!

Hey, Muse!

Starting Without a Manual is tomorrow, and I’m so excited to host our very first Beyond the Myc event.

If you’ve been planning to join us, now’s a good time to secure your spot.

We’re bringing together women navigating media, content, and creative careers in real time — with intention behind who’s in the room.

By now, you know we’re giving out some tea from Golden Hibiscus Botanica to two of muses… so you def want to be there for that!

→ RSVP here

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Hey, Muse!

Tomorrow.

Starting Without a Manual is here.

If you’ve been seeing it, thinking about it, meaning to RSVP, this is your moment to lock in.

In partnership with Golden Hibiscus Botanica.

The room is set.

Meet the Muses: Nadia & Danielle

Nadia is a publicist, writer, and media correspondent whose work sits at the intersection of storytelling and strategy.

A graduate of Florida A&M University School of Journalism & Graphic Communication, she has built a career in public relations across healthcare, beauty, sports, and entertainment, and currently serves as a Junior Publicist at Synergy PR Services in Atlanta.

Alongside her work in PR, Nadia hosts The Renaissance Exchange, a podcast featuring conversations with voices across culture — from athletes to artists — creating space for dialogue that feels both intentional and necessary.

Her path reflects a key part of today’s media landscape:
knowing how to shape the narrative is just as important as being in it.

—

Danielle is a digital marketing strategist, YouTuber, and emerging filmmaker building at the intersection of content and culture.

Based in South Florida, her work spans brand strategy and personal storytelling — helping others grow their digital presence while developing her own creative voice.

Through her content and filmmaking, she explores life, culture, and personal evolution, encouraging others to embrace LYFE — Let Yourself Freely Evolve.

Her perspective speaks to a different, but equally important reality:
you don’t have to wait for permission to create — you can build your own platform in real time.

Together, they represent two sides of the same shift in media: understanding the system, and building something within (and beyond) it.

Note for the Muse

You don’t need everything to be figured out to step into the room.

Just a willingness to show up.

We’ll meet you there.

There’s a certain wave of nostalgia that comes with the first stretch of warm days — not quite summer, but close enough to start believing in it. Everything feels a little lighter, a little easier.

This is where Beyond the Beat: Track 4 lives.

Spring Has Sprung moves across sounds, artists, and genres, but every track shares the same energy: feel-good, upbeat, and ready for better days. The kind of music you throw on for long walks, open windows, carpool karaoke with the girls, and whatever else the day turns into.

Press play, touch grass, and let it soundtrack the moment.

Full playlist available on Spotify. 🎧🦋

Activists and researchers including Hazel Johnson in Chicago, Hattie Carthan in New York and Robert Bullard in Texas helped define what is now known as the environmental justice movement — a framework that examines how pollution, waste and environmental risk are disproportionately concentrated in Black communities.

Their work positioned environmentalism as a public health and civil rights issue, not simply a matter of individual behavior.

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Black Environmentalists in History

Hazel Johnson began organizing in the 1960s while living in Altgeld Gardens, a public housing development on Chicago’s South Side surrounded by landfills and industrial facilities. Residents reported high rates of asthma and other illnesses, concerns Johnson linked to environmental exposure in the area. She went on to found People for Community Recovery, one of the first grassroots organizations to address environmental hazards in a Black community.

In New York, Hattie Carthan led a separate but related effort in Bedford-Stuyvesant, where access to green space was limited. Beginning in the 1960s, she organized local residents to plant trees and later pushed the city to support environmental education initiatives. Her work contributed to the creation of the Magnolia Tree Earth Center, one of the first environmental education centers in an urban community.

Robert Bullard’s research in Houston in the late 1970s provided data that helped formalize these concerns. While working on a lawsuit over the placement of a landfill in a Black neighborhood, he mapped the location of waste sites across the city and found a clear pattern: most were located in Black communities. His findings became foundational to the study of environmental justice.

The term “environmental justice” would gain wider recognition in the 1980s and 1990s, but the conditions that defined it had already been present for years.

Communities facing limited access to clean air, water, food and green space were often the same communities organizing for change. In many cases, residents were responding to immediate health and safety concerns rather than participating in a broader environmental movement as it is commonly understood today.

That distinction continues to shape how environmentalism is experienced.

In recent years, sustainability has become more visible through consumer behavior and digital culture, often framed around personal choices such as diet, wellness routines and low-waste living.

Environmental justice advocates argue that this framing can obscure ongoing disparities in how environmental risk is distributed. In Flint, a majority-Black city, residents were exposed to lead-contaminated drinking water beginning in 2014 after a change in water source. The crisis affected roughly 100,000 people and took years to address, with long-term health and infrastructure impacts that continue to shape public trust.

More recently, advocates have raised concerns about the placement of artificial intelligence data centers in Black and low-income communities. These facilities require large amounts of water and energy and can contribute to air pollution and strain local infrastructure. Civil rights organizations, including the NAACP, have warned that such developments are often located in areas already facing environmental burdens, reinforcing patterns seen in earlier industrial zoning decisions.

For many Black communities, environmental awareness has not developed as a trend or identity, but through direct exposure to environmental risk — from unsafe water systems to industrial pollution and uneven infrastructure investment.

While sustainability is frequently framed through personal habits and consumer choices, those approaches do not account for the structural conditions that continue to shape environmental risk. Access to clean water, air and infrastructure is not evenly distributed, and for many communities, those concerns remain unresolved.

In that context, environmentalism is not simply a matter of lifestyle. It is an ongoing issue of equity.

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Black women are often taught to be strong—to endure pain, push through discomfort, and keep going no matter what. But what happens when that strength is expected, even in spaces meant to provide care?

Despite ongoing advancements in medicine, Black women in the United States continue to face higher rates of hypertension, breast cancer at younger ages, diabetes, stroke, and lupus, according to Boston University’s Black Women’s Health Study. An inequality report by Hertility Health adds that Black women are four times more likely to die during pregnancy and 43% more likely to miscarry than white women.

These aren’t just numbers—they reflect real lives and real outcomes. And they point to a deeper issue: Black women are being disproportionately impacted by some of the most serious health challenges. So what is it that continues to drive these patterns?

For many Black women, the answer starts with what happens the moment we walk into a doctor’s office. Similar to what happens in many other spaces, our concerns are ignored, dismissed, or not taken seriously. In fact, a study by the Pew Research Center found that 71% of Black women ages 18 to 49 report having at least one negative interaction with a healthcare provider. As noted in an article by Quality Interactions, “women, particularly women of color, often face barriers to receiving an accurate diagnosis.”

And not only does this kind of implicit bias affect the quality of care, it shapes how safe Black women feel seeking care in the first place, fueling a growing sense of distrust in the very systems meant to protect our health.

Not to mention, we’re often expected to place our trust in a system that wasn’t built with Black women in mind. A 2021 article published by Harvard Business Review notes that clinical trials have historically centered white male participants. More recent data from CenterWatch Research Hub in 2025 shows that Black and Hispanic populations typically make up less than 10 percent of clinical trial participants—and those numbers include both men and women.

Beyond bias and underrepresentation, the reality of being a Black woman in America is just… hard. We are constantly critiqued, dehumanized, and invalidated. Even outside the doctor’s office, the weight of these repeated stressors doesn’t simply disappear—it lingers, affecting both mind and body. Over time, this chronic exposure contributes to what researchers call the weathering effect, a process in which long-term stress gradually wears down the body and increases the risk of serious health conditions.

These disparities didn’t appear overnight, and they won’t be solved overnight either. They are deeply rooted in history and society, and Black women have been navigating them for generations. Still, we must continue to shine a light on these inequities, amplify Black women’s voices, and push for systemic change. The work is ongoing, and every effort matters in challenging patterns that have persisted far too long.

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The sun’s been shining, the birds have been chirping, and I’ve seen more muscles tees in the past week than I did in 2017. You know what that means...Spring Has Sprung and so has Beyond The Beat: Track 4.

The bleak winter is behind us and a level of whimsy is in the air. Track 4 captures that notion with a uniquely harmonious blend of alternative, pop, and R&B/soul music. Grab your wires, your pods or your speaker, and listen along with us because things are just heating up.

Head to our Spotify for the full playlist! 🦋

Hey, Muse.

April 22 is closer than it feels — and we’ve been thinking about who this room is really for.

It’s for the woman who’s already in motion. Already building, already showing up, already putting in work that hasn’t fully paid off yet. The one who doesn’t need to be convinced that the path is worth it — she just needs to know she’s not the only one on it.

That’s who we built Starting Without a Manual for.

And that’s exactly who Cayla is.

RSVPs are open. Seats are limited. Secure your spot here.

Meet the Muse: Cayla

Most people pick one.

Build the career. Or build the thing.

Cayla is doing both — in real time, without a blueprint.

By day, she’s a TV news producer at 11Alive in Atlanta, navigating broadcast journalism and learning the structure of traditional media from the inside. By night — and in every in-between moment — she’s the host of Almost Grown, a podcast about the messy, honest, sometimes funny reality of figuring out your twenties in public.

Two platforms. Two lanes. One woman still in the early chapters of building both.

What makes Cayla’s story worth sitting with isn’t just what she’s accomplished — it’s where she still is. She’s not looking back at the beginning from a comfortable distance. She’s in it. And she’ll tell you plainly: breaking into media isn’t just about talent. It’s about time, consistency, and the cost of staying in it long enough to grow.

That part — the part before it clicks, before it compounds, before it starts to look like what you imagined — doesn’t get talked about enough.

We invite you to hear more of her story on April 22.

From the Muse Circle

Cayla’s story inspired a deep question, and we wanna hear what you have to say:

What are you currently doing both of — and which one are you afraid to admit you might have to choose?

Answer this in the comments and let us know where you are right now.

Notes for a Muse

The beginning is supposed to feel uncertain.

That’s not a sign you chose wrong — it’s a sign you chose something real. Something that requires you to grow into it rather than just step into it.

Keep building, Muse. The room is starting to fill up.

This Museletter is brought to you by our event partner Golden Hibiscus Botanica — a Black woman-owned wellness brand worth knowing. Show them some love.

Find them here — https://ghbotanica.shop

The three countries that voted against the resolution were the United States, Israel, and Argentina.

Recognition, Not Repair

The resolution calls for reparatory justice measures, including formal apologies, financial compensation, the return of cultural artifacts, and institutional reforms. It also encourages continued global dialogue on accountability for the lasting impacts of slavery. However, the measure is non-binding, meaning it does not create enforceable legal obligations for countries to provide reparations.

What this means, then, is not immediate change, but formal recognition. For those living in the aftermath of this history, particularly across the African diaspora, the resolution establishes a global acknowledgment of harm that has long shaped present-day realities.

It does not close gaps or repair systems on its own, but it does name the foundation those gaps were built on.

Ghana at the Center

Ghana’s role in this resolution is not incidental. As the country that initiated and led the measure, it placed an African nation at the center of a global conversation about a history that disproportionately impacted the continent and its diaspora.

In recent years, Ghana has positioned itself as a key voice in discussions around the legacy of the transatlantic slave trade, including calls for reparatory justice and initiatives aimed at reconnecting with the diaspora.

In 2019, the government launched the “Year of Return,” marking 400 years since the first recorded enslaved Africans arrived in the Americas and inviting descendants of the transatlantic slave trade to return to the continent. While the initiative did not automatically grant citizenship, Ghana has since extended citizenship to select members of the diaspora through formal processes.

That initiative was followed by “Beyond the Return,” a 10-year program focused on strengthening long-term relationships between Ghana and the African diaspora through cultural exchange, investment, and relocation pathways.

Ghana has also taken steps to grant citizenship to members of the diaspora, positioning itself as a point of reconnection for those seeking to reestablish ties disrupted by slavery.

What Comes Next

What happens next remains open. The resolution does not mandate action, but it does shift the terms of the conversation—what is formally recognized, what can be contested, and what is now documented at a global level. In that sense, the vote is less an endpoint and more a marker of where accountability begins to take clearer shape.

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Hey, Muse!

We’re getting closer to April 22, and our first virtual event Starting Without a Manual is less than a month away.

And as we talk with more and more muses, it’s feeling less about “starting,” more about what it actually takes to keep going.

Because building something of your own doesn’t always look how you imagined. And most of the time, it’s not as visible as people make it seem.

That’s the conversation we’re excited to explore with our next panelist.

Meet the Muse: Sierra

In Atlanta, Sierra has built a reputation for bringing ambitious women together, while recognizing that each of them is navigating their own path.

Through initiatives like Sisters in the City and Word of Mouth, Sierra has created spaces where connection, collaboration, and shared growth happen in real time. Her work reflects a belief that community isn’t just about proximity — it’s about intention.

But even within that, building something of your own can still feel isolating.

“If you’re anything like me, you keep ambitious women around you,” Sierra shared with BtM. “So I think it can be lonely at times to start something from scratch.”

It’s a tension many are navigating right now — being surrounded by driven, like-minded people, while still carrying a vision that’s entirely your own.

Sierra’s perspective speaks to that balance: community can pour into you, but the path you’re building is still yours to walk.

Visibility Check

Everybody’s building. Everybody wants to be seen.

But not everybody is thinking about how they’re being seen.

Notes for a Muse

It won’t always feel like it’s coming together.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t.

People always say you just have to keep going. I hate to say it, but they’re right.

The ones who win see their vision to the finish line.

Keep creating, Muse.

I saw a TikTok the other day about perpetual girlhood, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

The idea was simple: in a lot of cultures, there’s a clear moment where a girl becomes a woman—not just by age, but by recognition, by meaning, by transition. And I realized that the point she was making was actually very true. We don’t really have that.

The In-Between

We have milestones—turning 18, turning 21—but none of those moments actually mean anything beyond the surface. They change small things, like, okay, I’m 21, now I can drink. But nobody tells you what’s changed beyond that. So you literally just keep going. And somehow, you end up grown—but still feeling like a girl.

I’m 24, and I know I’m a woman. But I’d be lying if I said I always feel like one. I still get confused in situations I feel like I should understand by now. I still second-guess myself in moments where I feel like I should be more sure of what I’m doing.

As a young Black woman, I feel like that gap is even more complicated. Because on one hand, a lot of us are expected to grow up faster. We’re put in positions where we have to take on responsibility early, where we have to be aware, be strong, be mature before we even fully understand what that means. But at the same time… nobody is really sitting us down and explaining how to become anything.

At least, that’s how it felt for me. I don’t feel like there was ever a clear moment where someone said, “This is how you step into womanhood. This is how you carry it. This is what it looks like in real life.” 

And I think about my mom, too. It doesn’t feel like she had that either. She had to grow up fast, figure things out as she went, and just keep moving. So it becomes this cycle. You’re expected to be grown, but you’re not necessarily guided into it.

And because of that, you end up in this weird in-between space—where you know you have responsibilities, you know you’re not a child anymore…but you still feel like a girl in so many ways.

The Comfort of “I’m Just a Girl”

After seeing that TikTok, I kept coming back to one thing: “I’m just a girl.” That phrase would not leave my mind.

Because when I really thought about it, I started thinking about all the times I’ve used it. And it’s usually not random. It’s when I’m avoiding something, when I’m being a little lazy, when I’m choosing what feels good in the moment over what actually makes sense. Sometimes even when I’m being a little delusional.

And it’s not that deep in the moment—it’s funny, it’s light, it’s just how we talk. But looking back, it does say something. Not something negative. Just something real.

Because there’s nothing wrong with girlhood. There’s nothing wrong with being young, having fun, being soft, being a little unserious sometimes. That’s a part of life.

Aging is Becoming

Somewhere along the way, I feel like we forgot about the beauty of aging. The beauty of having more experiences. Of knowing yourself better. Of becoming more grounded, more certain, more defined. The beauty of just living long enough to grow into yourself.

That’s a blessing. And I don’t think we talk about it like that anymore.

Instead, everything is centered around staying young. Staying in that “girl” phase. Being carefree, being outside, being “just a girl,” being a “young hoe,” being turnt—it’s all fun, and it is fun. But it’s also all very… temporary.

And then I think about older women—especially Black women—who have lived through so much, who have experienced life in a way we haven’t yet. Women in their 50s, their 60s, who carry themselves with a certain level of confidence and calm that you can’t fake. There’s a beauty there that isn’t loud or performative.

And I wonder what happened to celebrating that. What happened to looking forward to that version of ourselves? To the idea that aging isn’t something to avoid—but something to grow into?

Maybe it’s still there. Maybe it’s just not what’s being pushed or aestheticized.

There’s nothing wrong with girlhood. I love girlhood. I just don’t want to live in it forever.

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Friendly reminder to tap into Beyond the Beat: Track 3 on Spotify. This month’s mix brings together a range of genres from new finds to artists we can’t stop replaying. The song you didn’t know you needed might already be waiting. Press play and see which track speaks to you. 🎧

Hey, Muse!

Creative careers rarely come with a rulebook. Most of us are learning in real time through conversations, community, and shared experiences.

That’s exactly why Muse Circle exists.

And we’re excited to share what’s coming next.

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Starting Without a Manual

Our upcoming Starting Without a Manual panel is presented in partnership with Golden Hibiscus Botanica, a wellness brand rooted in herbal remedies and intentional living.

This conversation brings together five young women building careers in media, marketing, and storytelling at a time when the traditional playbook no longer exists. From social platforms to digital publications to brand strategy, each of them is navigating an industry that’s evolving before our eyes.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll introduce you to the voices shaping this conversation.

First up:

Meet the Muse: Meché Leflore

Our first panelist for Starting Without a Manual is Meché Leflore, a storyteller who understands both the creative and strategic sides of media.

A graduate of Florida A&M University’s School of Journalism (Class of 2022), Meché spent five years shaping digital conversations as a social media content wrier and media correspondent for The Neighborhood Talk — one of the platforms redefining what modern media leadership looks like. Through that work, she covered cultural moments and major events for networks including BET and Bravo.

“As someone who’s currently starting over right now, something they don’t tell you is that it is hard,” Meché told BtM. “It’s hard but there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

Now pursuing her MBA in marketing, Meché represents something many young professionals are navigating in real time: the transition between storytelling and strategy. Her path reflects a larger truth about where media is headed — understanding culture, narrative, and audience is not separate from business. It’s the foundation of it all.

Recent Reads

BtM talked about why pivoting is so important now more than ever for recent graduates, especially those pursing creative careers, in our latest post: Media is Bigger than Content.

Beyond the Beat

This month’s playlist: Be Your Own Muse

For the moments when you realize the inspiration you’ve been waiting for might actually be you.

Notes for a Muse

Life has a way of unfolding in its own time.

The things meant for you lately arrive exactly when you expect them to. But they have a way of finding you when you’re ready.

Keep going.

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These are questions that many young adults, especially in media and creative industries, are now facing as unemployment and underemployment rates continue to skyrocket.

The only correct answer is this: pivot.

By the end of 2025, unemployment among recent college graduates climbed to roughly 5.7 percent, while underemployment reached over 42 percent — the highest level since 2020, according to data from the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

The shift has been especially noticeable in media and creative industries, where entry-level roles in journalism, content production and social media have become increasingly competitive or quietly eliminated altogether. Newsrooms are shrinking. Marketing teams are leaner. And many companies that once hired junior creatives now expect candidates to arrive with years of experience already behind them.

But the mistake many graduates make is assuming the visible side of media — writing stories, producing videos, managing social feeds — is the entire industry.

It isn’t. Media is much bigger than content.

Content is what audiences see. The ecosystem is what makes it possible.

The Media Ecosystem

Behind every article, campaign, podcast or viral post is an entire ecosystem of people working in distribution, audience development, advertising, analytics, partnerships and technology — roles that rarely get the same attention as the bylines or on-screen talent, but are just as essential to how the industry functions.

Sometimes the most strategic move isn’t landing the glamorous job right away. It’s positioning yourself inside the ecosystem, in the rooms where media is distributed, funded and built, while continuing to develop the creative work you care about on your own time.

And the good news for graduates is that many of the skills they developed while studying media — storytelling, audience awareness, cultural literacy, communication and creativity — translate far beyond traditional content roles. Those same skills are valuable in areas like brand partnerships, audience strategy, digital advertising, platform operations and media technology.

In other words, the path into the industry may not look exactly like the one students imagined when they first chose their major. But it still exists.

Access = Success

For young creatives whose ultimate goal is to write, produce or create, that may mean taking a role that sits slightly behind the scenes at first — learning how media is funded, distributed and measured while continuing to build a portfolio outside of work. In an industry built on relationships and proximity, being inside the ecosystem often matters more than the title on your first business card.

In moments like this, internships — both paid and unpaid — can be one of the most underrated ways to gain that proximity. While they are often viewed as temporary or secondary to full-time employment, internships can offer something many entry-level roles no longer guarantee: access — to professionals, to industry workflows and to the networks that shape how opportunities actually circulate.

For graduates navigating a difficult job market, that kind of proximity can be just as valuable as a title. In an industry built on relationships, timing and visibility, being close to the ecosystem often determines who gets the opportunity when it finally appears.

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“Why did you tempt him?”
“What were you wearing?”
“Why didn’t you just leave?”

It always starts with a compliment, and oftentimes, we hope it ends there too. But as women, we know all too well that it doesn’t matter how covered we are, how many precautions we take, or how many times we say “no.”

They don’t care.

Not because women aren’t clear — but because men are taught that desire is pursuit, persistence is flattering, and restraint is optional.

They push boundaries.
They test limits.

And when it’s over, they get to move on: untouched, unexamined, and unchanged.

Because the price of their entitlement is paid in our fear, our vigilance, and our humanity.

This is the cost of pretty.

Constant Reminders Everywhere

News cycles and social media timelines are flooded with coverage of the Epstein files.

For some men, it’s an opportunity — a chance to publicly condemn behavior they don’t want to be associated with. A way to say, “I am not that guy.”

But for many women, this is more than news.

It’s a reminder.

Epstein didn’t invent this type of violence. He didn’t create entitlement, exploitation, or silence.

He just had the power and resources to exploit something women have been navigating long before his name became public.

What’s more unsettling than the crimes themselves is how comfortable we are condemning harm when it’s distant, and how quiet we become when it’s close.

When the abuser is a headline, outrage is easy.
When the woman is someone you know, neutrality suddenly feels acceptable.

Showing Up When it Matters

Neutrality is NOT passive. It’s a choice, and one that protects proximity, comfort, and reputation.

And, it becomes especially dangerous when it comes from people who publicly align themselves with values that condemn this behavior.

Posting is easy.
Retweeting is easy.
Condemning harm when the villain is already decided is easy.

What’s harder is responding with care when harm interrupts your real life — your friendships, your relationships, or your self-image as “a good guy.”

I learned this not through theory, but through proximity — by watching how quickly values collapse when accountability becomes inconvenient.

It’s one thing to condemn exploitation online.
It’s another to show up when a woman says, “I wasn’t okay.”

What accountability actually looks like

Accountability doesn’t require heroics. It requires acknowledgement.

Believing before questioning.
Responding instead of retreating.
Choosing care even when it costs comfort.

This isn’t a call for men to be perfect. It’s a call for them to be present — offline, in real life, when it matters.

Silence is not neutral when harm is close.
Reposts don’t replace responsibility.

You don’t get to condemn exploitation online and disappear when it shows up in real life.

UnPRETTY Me, Please! is not about taking beauty away from women.
It’s about taking entitlement away from those who have never had to carry the consequences.

Because until accountability lives offline, beauty will always to feel like a liability.

Moving Forward

For generations, women have been told to adjust:

Cover up.
Be careful.
Don’t provoke.

So we shrink, strategize, and survive; all while being told this is the price of being beautiful.

UnPRETTY Me, Please! is not surrender.
It’s a refusal.

A refusal to believe that womanhood must come with fear.
A refusal to keep teaching girls how to endure instead of teaching boys how to behave.

Pretty was never the problem.

Silence was.

There’s a certain responsibility you carry when you know the sacrifices that made the life you live today possible. When you know that your people spent 400 years enslaved, survived oppressive systems and racially motivated violence, and still kept going, there’s really no excuse not to take advantage of the opportunities their sacrifices made possible.

But to be Black and a woman adds another layer to that responsibility. Not only were our mothers facing the same injustices as their male counterparts, the violence and scrutiny directed toward them, and now toward us, was doubled.

And that intersection, where race and gender meet, creates an experience uniquely shaped by both. Black men understood the weight of racial injustice. White women understood the barriers of sexism. But Black women have historically had to navigate both at the same time.

Because of that history, Black women today inherit more than stories of survival. We inherit expectations — to excel, to endure, to succeed in spaces that were never built with us in mind. The opportunities available now didn't appear in a vacuum. They exist because generations before us fought to expand what was possible.

That is the paradox of inheritance for Black women in America. The same history that imposed limits also created the conditions for possibility. Because of them — the women who endured, organized, created, and persisted — we now stand in spaces they could only imagine.