When Does It End?

It’s been over a month since I’ve written. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t.

I’m hurting. Not just a little—deeply. The weight of everything happening right now in the news and media is breaking something inside of me. The violence. The hate. The blatant racism that has never really gone away, just shifted faces and changed language.

I’m hurting because of what I’ve gone through at my last job. And the job before that. The mistreatment. The racial undertones. The way I had to fight just to be respected, just to be seen. And then to see the same hatred playing out every single day on my phone screen? It’s too much.

I was fired from my job after speaking out against the sexual harassment and racism I was facing at work. I brought it to the attention of my manager—multiple incidents. I wasn’t the only one. Other coworkers had complaints, too. I thought that speaking up was the right thing to do.

The very next day… they retaliated and fired me.

I looked into getting a lawyer. I was told, “Yes, it was wrong,” but they wouldn’t take my case. It felt like confirmation of something I’ve always known: people don’t care about Black lives the way they claim to. It’s exhausting to fight against a system built to silence you.

My mental health is not okay. I’m angry. I’m tired of pretending I’m not. I’m angry at the hate and violence that has been spewed at Black people since the beginning of this country. I’m angry at the lies told, the history erased, the blood spilled without justice. I’m angry that in 2025, racism is still alive. Bigotry and prejudice still thrive.

When does it end?

How many more people have to die?

How much more blood has to fill these streets before we matter in a way that isn’t just words?

I’ve been sitting with these questions. And the truth is—protesting hasn’t been enough. It’s never felt like enough. Because the systems are still broken. The corruption is still loud. And the pain just keeps growing.

I don’t have a neat ending for this post. No silver lining. No “but everything will be okay.” Because right now? It doesn’t feel okay. And maybe this space isn’t about pretending anymore. Maybe it’s about telling the truth—even when the truth hurts.

Xo,

Nina.