For the past decade, my professional compass has relentlessly pointed to one crucial question: As social justice advocates, how do we fuse the fire of activism along with the gentle balm of well-being ? I have journeyed alongside incredible feminist organizations, witnessing their powerful efforts to connect the grand visions of transformative social change with the gritty, everyday strategies needed to strengthen our movements. Consistently, self and collective care emerged as an essential ingredient—the very lifeblood that sustains us, especially when so many within our movements, and those we fiercely champion, carry deep, inherited wounds into this work. I have learned that even with our strong desire to challenge injustice and address the profound harm it causes, finding skillful ways to do so without inadvertently creating further pain within our own movements can be challenging. We know we need to disrupt the status quo, but how do we do that without accidentally draw...
Dear Swes, I woke up last night calling out your name. Sweeeeeeeeees… The world knew you as Binya, but for me, you will always be my beloved big brother whom we nicknamed Sweswe—though to this day, I am not sure who started it or why. My childish voice traveled noisily everywhere seeking you. It was just the way we used to do it when we were kids—shouting to the rafters, like I was trying to reach you somewhere far off in that huge, expansive setup that was home in Naks growing up. I wanted my voice to meet you, to embrace you, and to shove you—in that specific way in which siblings love and irritate each other in one sweeping movement. Last evening, I spoke to an acquaintance who lost her brother in December 2022. She told me that she only managed to breathe calmly again in December 2025, when her friends and loved ones marked her birthday by spoiling her with love and gifts. I quietly told her: I can relate. There is nothing as horrible as losing a sibling. You miss them, you fiercel...
This year, we celebrated 62 years of independence from the British colonial regime on June 1 , a day we affectionately know as Madaraka Day. I had the pleasure of spending a delightful weekend in the breathtaking Lake Basin region of Kenya, where I reconnected with cherished old friends. The experience stirred a wave of reflection and nostalgia within me. Dunga Beach Kisumu County As I gazed at Kenya's stunning landscapes, I couldn't help but feel that they hold the secrets, whispers, and timeless tales of our ancient history. From the majestic heights of the mountains to the serene expanses of the lakes, every corner seemed to echo larger-than-life legends and profound life lessons that have shaped our culture. I came to realize that our rich heritage is not merely preserved in the dusty archives of museums or buried in historical texts. Rather, it vibrantly thrives in the fabric of our daily lives, intricately woven into the lively tapestry of oral traditions, captivating loc...
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