Many moons ago, I wrote about my time working in social services. I spent seven years in the field utilizing my Bachelor's degree in psychology. My role spanned from working in homeless prevention in New York City to the behavioral health field. Throughout all of my roles, I noticed one constant. Women grossly outnumbered men in the social work field.

I sometimes find myself going through old pictures of my grandfather, desperately searching for pieces of my face in his. I couldn’t really tell you why. I hunch over my desk at my computer with images of him, which usually accompany some amazing story. I deliberately crop out the fascinating things and people that are part of these stories as to not distract myself.

I’m a documentary buff, and when I watch Black documentaries, I’m always so blown away by how cool our history is. This year’s Black History month I’ve had the overwhelming feeling that we don’t share enough stories that reflect on the positive aspects of our history.

Eleven years ago, I promised my family that I would share my story of a beautiful community known as New Hope Ministries of Busia, Uganda. Here is a glimpse into that story. It has galvanized so much personal relatability and solidarity with young Ugandans facing the current dictatorship in Uganda.

When I was in high school, while at the library exploring resources about Black revolutionaries, I stumbled upon a book called “The Assassination of Fred Hampton” by Jeffery Haas.

The book recounts the murder of the Illinois Black Panther Chairman implemented by the FBI and Chicago police. I checked out the book and wasn’t able to put it down until I finished it. As I read, I felt emotions that I didn’t know I could experience from a book. I grieved the death of a man whose legacy nobody had bothered to teach me, and I am a changed person for learning his legacy.

I was at my first real job out of undergrad and at my first real review with my first real manager when I realized what initiative actually was.

My supervisor was surprised at the number of ideas I suddenly had because, as she noted, “everyone else” was overloading her inbox. My first response to this was what seemed to be obvious - she had never asked me for my ideas.