When I was a little girl, I had these hand-me-down shoes that I loved. I wore them everywhere. Anywhere, really. I don't think I cared whether they were appropriate for where I was going. If those were the shoes I wanted to wear, then those were the shoes I was wearing. And when they became too small, I still didn't want to let them go. I would squeeze my feet into them and somehow convince myself that they still fit. I imagine an adult looking at me and thinking, Child, these shoes are clearly too small. Please take them off. But I loved them. And I think about those shoes sometimes when I hear us talk about things like seasons, letting go, releasing, creating room, moving on. Usually, when we talk about letting go, there is something wrong with the thing we're letting go of. It has become toxic. It doesn't serve us anymore. It is holding us back. We have outgrown it. We need to make room for something better. And yes, sometimes that is exactly what letting go looks li...
The other day, I was in a matatu . The radio was on, as it often is, and a caller was given the chance to share their truth. What did they choose to say? That they were sleeping with a mother and her daughter at the same time. The radio hosts laughed, entertained it, asked questions. The matatu passengers chuckled. And just like that, the ride went on. It struck me—not because of the scandal itself, but because this is the kind of content that dominates our airwaves. Morning shows, drive shows, late-night segments. Sex, scandal, cheating, love triangles, secret lives. And it isn’t just radio. On TV, online, even in comedy clubs, scandalous and sexual topics gather the biggest crowds. The more outrageous, the more viral. Scroll through YouTube and you’ll see “story time” confessionals that rack up hundreds of thousands of views—someone narrating their affair, their betrayal, their secret lives. TikTok trends erupt overnight around gossip. Tabloids and blogs thrive on the downfall ...