As I write this I am holding onto the joy that comes from being in community with women who share my sense of purpose and passion for justice. But I am also holding onto the responsibility I feel to speak into this moment—to share a vision for how we heal and nurture our children in this system of things.

Fans of Ms. Butler’s writing, old and new, marvel at how a book written over thirty years ago could foreshadow our realities today. In this moment, I find myself marveling at Lauren, who like the young Black female protagonists in Ms. Butler’s earlier writings, carries herself with an audacity and determination that keeps us, the readers, rooting for her.

Black women have been needing to pause and rest for quite some time. Long before Vice President Harris campaigned for and lost the November 2024 presidential election, there were signs that our souls had grown weary. The reasons are centuries-old and the time has finally come. We must rest.

No matter what happens in this election, we must never forget Sonya, or Breonna, or Malissa, or Tenisha, or Sandra, or any of our sisters, mothers, and daughters who have been lost to excessive police violence. I pray you’ll hold these women and their families in your heart as we await the outcome of next week’s election.

Like so many others, I have struggled greatly while bearing witness to the destruction of lives, families, and communities in Gaza, Sudan, and Congo. And I have wept many days, overcome by deep despair, for the loss of children in these places, as well as here in the U.S. It has been difficult to sustain a sense of hope when there seems to be no sustainable path to ending violence of such scale and magnitude, even when the victims are children.

Now you might be wondering, “Habeebah, what does a rap beef have to do with Black motherhood?” First, I must admit that I’m someone who appreciates the petty and profane as much as the profound. The pettiness of the longstanding beef, the profane expressions of outrage coming out Kendrick’s writing, and his profound gift with language (and love of Blackness) were quite something to behold.

The courageousness of Black women may be unsung but I’m not alone in understanding that Black women’s boldness and vision for more just, life-affirming, and abundant ways of being make it possible to exist with some modicum of hope today. It was this intuitive awareness that inspired me to create No Crystal Stair Podcast.

I am writing you in the spirit of No Crystal Stair Podcast with the intention of holding a space of safety for Black mothers, and our allies, in a world that becomes more violent and terrifying by the day.

Thank you for the love you placed in us. It has been sustained across generations and thousands upon thousands of miles and is awakened whenever someone calls out for “Momma.”