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As we step into 2025, I feel the weight of all that 2024 left behind—lessons learned, wounds still healing, and questions still unanswered. This isn’t a year to glide into lightly. If you’ve been paying attention, you know the new year didn’t roll in on a wave of optimism. It crashed violently, with news of a car explosion on the Las Vegas Strip and senseless murders in New Orleans, shattering any illusion that turning the calendar page would magically calm the chaos of the past year.
If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that every storm leaves behind debris, and 2024 was no ordinary storm. We watched as the lines between admiration and obsession blurred, turning our culture’s fixation on celebrity into a dangerous game. Katt Williams dropped truth grenades that set the internet ablaze, Beyoncé’s brilliance was both celebrated and dismissed, and the ongoing reckoning with men like Diddy and Jay-Z forced us to ask tough questions about power and privilege.
And yet, we continue to worship at the altar of fame, even as its foundations crack. There’s a hypocrisy in how we exalt these figures—adoring them for their talent while turning a blind eye to their faults until the consequences become too loud to ignore. As a wise Black woman once said, “What you allow is what will continue.” It’s time we hold people accountable, no matter how bright their star shines, and remember that real heroes walk among us every day.
This hypocrisy isn’t confined to Hollywood—it’s everywhere. In Chicago, where I call home, we saw the same contradictions play out. Mayor Brandon Johnson fought to balance the budget, but his proposed tax hikes felt like a knife to the city’s most vulnerable. We hailed the first-ever hybrid school board elections as a win for democracy, yet the fight for equitable education is far from over. We applauded a drop in crime rates, yet many communities still feel abandoned.
The divisiveness of the past year wasn’t just political or cultural—it was deeply personal. Families and friendships strained under the weight of opposing views. It seemed like every conversation, from reparations to the migrant crisis, turned into a battlefield. The truth is, 2024 asked us to pick a side, and too often, that choice drove us further apart.
But here’s the thing about storms—they pass. And what’s left behind? Opportunity.
2024 taught us to reckon with our contradictions, to face the hypocrisy in our systems and ourselves. It reminded us that change is slow, often painful, but always necessary.
Now, as we step into 2025, I urge you to brace yourself—not with fear, but with determination. The chaos of the past doesn’t have to define our future. There’s work to be done, and it starts with how we treat one another. Whether it’s building stronger communities, holding our leaders accountable, or simply choosing kindness over conflict, the path forward is ours to carve.
This year, don’t just admire resilience—embody it. Let the lessons of 2024 guide you. Nourish yourself, in body and spirit, as you prepare for what’s ahead. As we’ve seen, nothing is promised, and no one is coming to save us. It’s up to us—those who’ve lived through decades of change, loss, and triumph—to set the tone.
So, here’s my charge to you: Stand firm. Look inward. And when the next storm comes, don’t just weather it—rise above it.
2025 is here, ready or not. The question is, are you?