From Religion to Roots: My Awakening as a Black Muslim Woman in a Post-Trump America

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In this manifesto, we unpack the sacred, messy, and soul-stretching journey of political and cultural awakening as a Black woman in 2025 America. From a late-blooming dive into Black history sparked by Trump’s presidency to navigating the tensions between religion and race, this manifesto explores what it means to love your people even when you don’t agree with every perspective. It’s about choosing community over conformity, understanding the lifestyle roots of faith, and reckoning with the erasure of our truths in schools and museums. This is for every grown woman just now coming into her political power, her ancestral knowing, and her unapologetic desire to uplift Black futures—one radical act of love at a time.

When Awakening Comes Late but Right on Time

I didn’t grow up particularly political. I didn’t spend my younger years at protests or organizing study groups around Black thinkers. My dive into Black culture, history, and politics came not in college or in my 30s—but in 2025. And while some might say that’s late, I say it’s exactly when it needed to happen.

Something about Trump taking office again shook something loose in me. Not just anger or confusion, but a deep, bone-level knowing that if I didn’t start learning what I hadn’t been taught, I’d miss the calling that had clearly been circling my spirit for years. So I began to read. Listen. Watch. Ask questions. Feel uncomfortable. Keep going.

You Don’t Have to Agree With Everything

Early on, I realized something that I think most people quietly know but don’t say out loud: you’re not going to agree with everything someone says—even if you love their mission. And that’s fine. That’s healthy.

I’ve come to peace with the fact that no one person or movement is going to be a 100% match for what I believe. And guess what? No one is going to agree with me 100% either. That’s not a flaw. That’s just humanity doing what it does. So I’ve stopped looking for perfect messengers and started paying attention to the message.

Race, Religion, and the Target Fast

A good example of this came during the Target Fast, which was organized by Pastor Jamal Bryant. As a Black Muslim woman, I had a moment where I paused and asked: Where are the Muslims in this? Where are the other religions? Are we not all Black? Are we not all impacted by the same systems, the same histories, the same legacies?

But I chose not to let that question separate me. I saw the intent. I felt the call. I said yes—not because everything aligned with my religious identity, but because I care deeply about Black people. Because I believe in our collective rise, even when the spiritual language differs.

Discovering Dr. Umar Johnson…and Myself

Around the same time, I started listening to Dr. Umar Johnson. Now, I know he’s not everyone’s cup of tea—and remember what we said about not agreeing with everything?—but I found myself deeply resonating with much of what he teaches. Not just about politics or education, but about how culture, not just religion, shapes the way we live.

That’s when it clicked for me. My love for Islam isn’t just about belief in a higher power—it’s about the lifestyle. The rhythm. The sacredness of family. The importance of community. The way it centers village, not isolation. And I realized…that’s African culture. That’s ancestral memory. That’s not just Islam. That’s home.

I Didn’t Want a Job. I Wanted a Family.

When my children were two and four, I had what I can only call a soul-deep reckoning. I knew I wanted to be home with them. Not because I was lazy. Not because I didn’t want a career. But because I knew—knew—that I was the best person to nurture them, teach them, be present with them.

My then-husband didn’t agree. And to be fair, we’d never talked about it before we had kids. We both had jobs when we met. We were in the military. So when I shifted, when I felt called into motherhood as a sacred act—not just a biological one—it clashed hard with what he believed.

And that’s where things fell apart. But that conviction? It never left me. I knew I wanted to raise my children in a home where family came before hustle. Where community mattered more than capitalism. I just didn’t have the language back then to say, “This is ancestral. This is sacred. This is African.”

America Told Me a Different Story

This culture tells Black people to survive, not thrive. To “get out” instead of “go deep.” You’re taught to leave your community behind, get the good job, climb the ladder. But what if the ladder’s leaning against the wrong wall? What if the truth isn’t in the climb but in the circle?

I want to live in a world where we don’t abandon our families to make it. Where our elders are cared for. Where children are raised by a village. Where our work is rooted in legacy, not just labor.

That vision is not American. It’s African.

And I’m not ashamed to say I want it.

The Culture Wars Are Real

Let’s not play pretend here. In Florida, where I live, they’ve stripped “woke” teachings out of public education. They’ve banned books. Rewritten history. Taken down museum exhibits that show the truth about white America’s role in slavery, colonization, and systemic racism. Even the Smithsonian has been targeted.

They call it patriotism. I call it erasure.

Which means it’s on us now. It’s on us to tell our stories. To teach our kids. To build what’s being burned down. If we don’t, who will?

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We Are American Africans

Dr. Umar Johnson calls us American Africans—and the more I hear it, the more I feel its power. We are not simply Black Americans. We are Africans in America. We are a people with deep roots, wide branches, and sacred knowing that this system is not designed for us to thrive.

But we can. We must. If we want anything different for the generations coming behind us, we have to start building that now.

Our schools. Our food systems. Our child care networks. Our spiritual spaces. Our healing practices. Not to exclude others—but to finally center ourselves.

This Is About More Than Me

I’m in my 50s. And I’m just now stepping fully into this journey. Some days I wish I’d started sooner. But most days I know—I started right on time.

Because now? I have something to offer. Perspective. Story. Vision. A deep, unshakable commitment to uplifting not just myself and my children—but my entire community.

And if you’re reading this? If you’re just now starting to learn, to ask, to shift? You’re right on time, too.

Final Thoughts: The Soft Uprising

What I’m building now is rooted in softness—but don’t get it twisted. This softness is strategy. This slowness is resistance. This tenderness for ourselves, our children, our ancestors, and our futures? That’s power. That’s wealth. That’s liberation.

You don’t have to agree with every leader or every belief. But you do have to stand for something. And I choose to stand for us.

For our children. For our stories. For our future.

Live Pleasurably,

(For the overthinkers, the second-guessers, and the ‘I should have figured this out by now’ crowd.)

You don’t need another strategy. You need to stop second-guessing yourself. Let’s clear the noise.

WTF is not a coaching session. It’s not me handing you a step-by-step blueprint. It’s me helping you untangle the thoughts that are keeping you stuck, so you can finally hear your own damn clarity. LEARN MORE >

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