do the work your soul must have

a primer to soulwork

I want to begin with something simple and radical:

Black people have souls.

That might sound obvious to you. But I mean it in the deepest, most disruptive way possible. We have souls—and they are worth knowing, protecting, listening to, and centering in all we do.

Soulwork is the name I’ve given to the spiritual, intellectual, and experiential framework I developed while trying to survive my life. It was born from burnout, from breakdown, from the betrayal of institutions.

Soulwork is a radical refusal of disposability. It is a tender, methodical turning inward.

It is Black liberation work at the level of the soul.

Soulwork isn’t something I invented from scratch. It’s something I named because I was trying to survive. But what I’m naming has a lineage. A lineage rooted in the lives and work of Black women who have always made a way out of no way.

One of those women is Dr. Katie Geneva Cannon, a founding mother of womanist theology.

She famously said:

“Do the work your soul must have.”

Those words are at the root of Soulwork.

Dr. Cannon was talking about moral agency and the sacred mandate to pursue one’s own purpose, especially in the face of dehumanizing systems.

I didn’t know I was walking in her words when I quit my job, but I was.I was doing the work my soul must have. Scared, yes. But also sure that I couldn’t keep surviving inside systems that asked me to betray myself daily.

Soulwork is how I keep returning to that call.

And I share it in honor of Dr. Cannon and every Black woman who has ever said: Not like this.

What Is Soulwork?

Soulwork is both a framework and a praxis, and it’s about more than making the decision to quit your job. 

It is how we survive, and how we reimagine our lives on the other side of survival.

At its core, Soulwork is the insistent belief that Black women and Black MaGeS (people of marginalized genders) are not just bodies to be used.

Soulwork is a Black feminist epistemology that holds that Black women and those of us who read as Black women (despite our self identification), possess ancestral, affective, and embodied knowledge, shaped through generations of labor, survival, and spiritual practice, that can liberate us all.

Soulwork resists the binary logic of body vs. mind, private vs. public, secular vs. sacred.

It understands labor not only as employment, but as doing, as devotion, as the exhausting and exquisite work of keeping oneself and one’s people alive.

Soulwork brought me back to myself. Back to a sense of integrity I didn’t even know I had lost. It gave me language for what I was feeling, and structure for what I was seeking. It helped me look honestly at the toll my labor was taking on my spirit, and offered me a way to turn toward restoration, not just survival.

To help others do the same, I’ve organized the soulwork framework around five foundational pillars.These are not commandments. They are not rigid.  They are containers—each one spacious enough to hold your truth. They offer language, not limits. Orientation, not obligation.

Let them meet you where you are.

1. Vocation: The Soul’s Relationship to Labor

Vocation is the sacred intersection between one’s labor and one’s life purpose. Vocation reframes work not as mere employment, but as spiritual calling and cultural contribution. Vocation privileges knowledge produced through the act of labor itself—our embodied expertise, craft wisdom, and the ritual rhythms of daily work.

Are you doing the work your soul must have?
Or are you just doing some shit?

2. Wisdom: Ancestral, Embodied, and Experiential Knowing

Wisdom refers to intergenerational, communal knowledge. It encompasses both formal theory and informal lore—recipes, proverbs, and prayers. Wisdom shifts what counts as evidence. It democratizes authorship. Community elders and “non-experts” become co-theorists.

We remember.
And in remembering, we decolonize what counts as knowledge.

3. Community: Relational Knowledge Practices

Community names the collective bonds through which knowledge is co-produced, shared, and sustained.Community validates knowledge through relational accountability. Claims are not peer-reviewed in isolation, but witnessed and affirmed in relationship.

We don’t heal alone.
We don’t work alone.

4. Advocacy: Translating Insight into Change

Advocacy grounds Soulwork in political struggle—naming, resisting, and transforming oppressive labor conditions.This is the site where Soulwork becomes praxis. Where research becomes resistance. Where theory becomes change.

Our knowing is not just personal.
It is political.

5. Self‑Care: A Restorationist Mandate

Self-care is both a defensive practice against burnout and a spiritual methodology for joy. In Soulwork, rest, ritual, and celebration are ways of knowing. They restore our capacity to listen inward and live outward with intention.

Rest is not a reward.
It is a right.

How to Begin

If you’re asking, What do I do with this?—you’re already on the path. Soulwork begins with a refusal to keep performing survival while calling it purpose.

Begin with plotting.

Sociologist Ruha Benjamin uses plotting to describe the quiet, imaginative acts of refusal that push against systems designed to wear us down. Plotting is about questioning the roles we've been assigned, scheming alternative futures, and moving in service of collective well-being.

I offer a tool called vocational mapping as a form of spiritual and intellectual plotting. It’s a practice of honest reckoning with your labor.

This is how you begin:

• Inventory your labor: catalog all the work you do including paid, unpaid, emotional, spiritual, invisible.

• Locate your longing: What work gives you life? What work takes from you?

• Distinguish necessity from extraction: What must be done for your survival? What is being taken from you under the guise of excellence, gratitude, or professionalism?

• Track meaning: Where does your labor align with your values? Where does it violate them?

• Name your yes: What, if anything, feels like the work your soul must have?

This is not a productivity tool. It’s a clarity tool.
It will not tell you what job to apply for, but it may tell you what truth you’ve been avoiding.

Do not rush this. Soulwork is slow work.
But it is exacting. It requires precision. It does not accept excuses or half-truths.

You will know you are doing soulwork when your body begins to unclench and your truth becomes undeniable.

Final Word: Everything You Say Is Scripture

In the Soulwork newsletter, I wrote: Everything Black women say is scripture. I meant it.

If you feel tired, like you’re drowning and no one is listening, I want you to know this:

You are not broken. You are not crazy. You are not lazy or unfocused or failing.

You are being exploited. And even so—your soul still lives. It has never stopped speaking to you.

You are the barometer. You are the archive. You are the scripture.

So do the work your soul must have.

Start there.

The Soulwork Reading List: Seminal Books for community Liberation & Vocation

Join the Soulwork Reading Challenge on StoryGraph: An Always-On Journey to Liberation

Soulwork is collective care—a radical practice of healing, resistance, and reimagining systems that were never built for Black women, marginalized genders, disabled folks, or queer communities. It’s the labor of tending to our spirits while dismantling the crooked rooms of capitalism, patriarchy, ableism, and digital extraction.

This reading list is your toolkit. These books are blueprints for liberation. They center our stories, honor our labor, and light the path to building communities where everyone can actually thrive.

1. Foundations: The Theory of Soulwork

1. Sister Citizen by Melissa Harris-Perry
A cornerstone for understanding the “crooked room” of race, gender, and sexuality—the societal distortions that force Black women to contort themselves to fit oppressive systems. Harris-Perry’s analysis of shame, stereotypes, and resilience is a manifesto for reclaiming agency.

2. Black Feminist Thought by Patricia Hill Collins
Collins’ framework of intersectionality and self-definition is the bedrock of soulwork. She teaches us to center our lived experiences as a form of knowledge and resistance, rejecting Eurocentric hierarchies that erase Black women’s genius.

3. Digital Black Feminism by Catherine Knight Steele
How do Black women bend technology toward liberation? Steele traces our digital counterpublics—from Black Twitter to encrypted group chats—showing how we build community in spaces never meant to hold us.

Follow along with the essential Soulwork Reading List

2. Reclaiming Labor, Rest, and Boundaries

4. Set Boundaries, Find Peace by Nedra Glover Tawwab
A guide to protecting your energy in a world that demands Black women’s unpaid labor. Tawwab’s work is a soulwork staple for anyone learning to say “no” without guilt.

5. Rock My Soul by bell hooks
Hooks confronts the toll of systemic violence on Black self-esteem, urging us to reclaim joy and wholeness. Pair this with Audre Lorde’s A Burst of Light for a masterclass in radical self-care.

6. Household Workers Unite by Premilla Nadasen
A groundbreaking history of domestic workers’ organizing, from the Jim Crow South to modern-day movements. Nadasen shows how Black women have transformed undervalued labor into a site of resistance and solidarity. This book is a must-read for soulworkers redefining the value of care work.

7. Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler
A prophetic novel about climate collapse, community-building, and the audacity to believe in a future shaped by equity. Butler’s protagonist, Lauren Oya Olamina, models soulwork in motion: “God is change. Shape God.”

3. Ancestral Wisdom and Radical Imagination

8. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
Janie Crawford’s journey to self-discovery—through love, loss, and reclaiming her voice—is a soulwork anthem. Hurston reminds us that liberation begins with telling our own stories, on our own terms.

9. Afrocentricity by Molefi Kete Asante
A call to center African philosophies and histories in a world that dismisses them. Asante’s work fuels soulworkers building systems rooted in dignity, not exploitation.

10. All the Black Girls Are Activists by EbonyJanice Moore
Moore reframes activism as a daily practice of survival and creativity. This isn’t a handbook for hashtags—it’s a love letter to Black women’s relentless power to transform the mundane into the revolutionary.

4. Queer & Disability Justice: Systems of Care and Collective Survival

11. Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
A groundbreaking text that centers disabled queer and trans Black/brown voices, redefining “care” beyond capitalist, ableist frameworks. Piepzna-Samarasinha’s vision of mutual aid—rooted in disability justice—is a lifeline for soulworkers building communities that prioritize access, interdependence, and radical tenderness.

12. The Future Is Disabled by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
Another essential from the same author, this book expands on disability justice as a practice of collective survival and joy. It’s a manifesto for queers, crips, and survivors crafting futures where care is liberation.

13. Exile and Pride by Eli Clare
A disabled queer classic that connects environmental destruction, bodily autonomy, and the politics of place. Clare’s work is a compass for soulworkers navigating the intersections of ableism, capitalism, and queer liberation.

5. Bonus: Soulwork in Practice

14. The Body Is Not an Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor
Radical self-love as political resistance. Taylor’s work is a compass for dismantling internalized oppression and reclaiming our bodies as sites of power.

15. Pleasure Activism by adrienne maree brown
Because joy is a birthright. Brown teaches us to center pleasure in our movements, rejecting grind culture’s lie that suffering equals solidarity.

Conclusion: Build Your Soulwork Syllabus
These books are not just to be read—they’re to be lived. Start a soulwork circle. Host a chapter swap at your local café. Trade dog-eared copies with your chosen family. Liberation is not a solo journey; it’s a chorus.

And remember: support Black-owned, queer-owned, and disability-led bookstores. Buy these titles from Sistah Scifi, Cafe con Libros, or The Lit. Bar. Because soulwork begins with who we fund, not just what we read.

Now go build your own library of liberation. The crooked room is waiting to be dismantled—one book, one soul, one collective breath at a time. 📚✨

join the Soulwork Reading Challenge on storygraph! Get Started Today

By engaging with these texts, you’re building a toolkit for liberation. You’re honoring the labor of Black women and marginalized genders, reclaiming your narrative, and joining a community of soulworkers committed to collective care.

There’s no deadline, no pressure—just an open invitation to read, reflect, and grow. Whether you’re a seasoned reader or just beginning your soulwork journey, this challenge is for you.

Share your journey: Use #SoulworkReadingChallenge to connect with others.

Let’s build a world where care > capitalism, rest > grind, and liberation > extraction. One book, one soul, one collective breath at a time. 📚✨

The Death of DEI

So. DEI is dead, but why? How did we get here?

Before we ask how we got here, we need to understand where here is.

To understand the unraveling of diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts, we must examine the key moments that chart this decline. A timeline of broken promises and systemic regression that brought us to this point.

2020: Corporate Pledges, Performative Activism, and the Remote Work Revolution

The summer of 2020 was marked by an outpouring of public support for racial equity in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. Corporations, eager to align themselves with the rising tide of social justice, pledged billions of dollars to DEI initiatives. Campaigns spotlighting Black voices proliferated, along with hiring surges for Chief Diversity Officers and the expansion of Employee Resource Groups.

Simultaneously, the COVID-19 pandemic forced a historic shift to remote work, reshaping the labor landscape. While remote work created opportunities for flexibility and access for some marginalized groups, it also exposed and exacerbated existing inequities. Black and brown workers disproportionately represented in essential industries faced greater health risks, while those working remotely often contended with a lack of support for caregiving responsibilities and digital accessibility.

Even as these dual crises unfolded, many corporate promises proved performative at best. Studies . It has since been revealed that much of the money pledged was either never allocated or funneled into short-term projects with little structural impact. DEI efforts became more about optics than systemic change, as corporations profited from the language of justice while avoiding meaningful accountability.

The pandemic highlighted another layer of inequity: those in privileged positions could retreat to the safety of their homes, while others, often from marginalized communities, were forced to endure unsafe working conditions to sustain the economy.

2022: The Overturning of Roe v. Wade

The Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade dealt a devastating blow to reproductive rights, especially for Black people able to give birth. This ruling exacerbated systemic inequities, disproportionately impacting those already marginalized by race, gender, and class. Black women, overrepresented in low-wage and precarious jobs, faced compounding vulnerabilities as access to reproductive healthcare dwindled, often in states with the most restrictive abortion bans.

The rollback of reproductive freedoms set dangerous legal precedents, calling into question the security of other hard-won rights, such as access to contraception, same-sex marriage, and anti-discrimination protections (which have since been rolled back by executive order). Activists and legal scholars warned that this decision signaled the judiciary’s willingness to unravel decades of progress on civil rights and gender equity.

Black women activists sounded the alarm, expressing fears rooted in lived experiences and historical precedent. we emphasized how the erosion of reproductive rights echoed the control of Black women’s bodies during slavery, where autonomy was systematically denied. I personally gave talks and produced corporate events in the wake of the Dobbs decision. I and many others questioned whether the DEI commitments made by corporations in 2020 could meaningfully address the intersection of reproductive justice, labor equity, and racial oppression.

2023: Attacks on CRT and Affirmative Action

The year 2023 saw a surge of anti-critical race theory (CRT) legislation and a landmark Supreme Court decision dismantling affirmative action in education. These efforts, framed as a backlash against so-called “woke ideology,” reflected a growing hostility toward any attempts to address systemic racism.

Corporations began to distance themselves from their DEI commitments, citing “woke fatigue” and shifting economic priorities. Many Chief Diversity Officers quietly exited their roles, and budgets for DEI initiatives were slashed. The performative activism of 2020 was laid bare as companies abandoned equity commitments the moment they became inconvenient.

2024: A Crisis Point in DEI Leadership

Dr. Antoinette "Bonnie" Candia-Bailey, a DEI leader and Vice President for Student Affairs at Lincoln University, tragically died by suicide amidst allegations of workplace harassment and bullying. Her death sparked national conversations about the toll of institutional racism, the unique burdens placed on Black women in DEI roles, and the urgent need for mental health resources in the field.

Her passing highlights the stark contrast between performative DEI efforts and the lived realities of those fighting for systemic change, underscoring the emotional labor and personal risks involved in this work. Meanwhile, media outlets and news pundits began reporting that DEI Efforts were “mostly garbage”. 

2025: Executive Rollbacks and Corporate Complicity

Within his first week back in office, President Donald Trump signed a slew of executive orders dismantling key Equal Employment Opportunity protections including executive order 1146 of 1965 signed by former President Lyndon B. Johnson and reinstating Schedule-F. These policies, designed to prevent workplace discrimination on the basis of race, gender, and other marginalized identities, were a lifeline for many.

With this rollback, employers have more power to discriminate—more power to hire, fire, and promote based on biases they no longer need to justify.

And all the while, American citizens were reeling from news coverage of multiple concurrent genocides in Gaza, Hati, and The Congo. Sparking worldwide conversations about US involvement in Israel and Palestine relations. 

How Did We Get to 2020?

To move forward, we must first rewind even further back. The roots of today’s crisis stretch back to the 1970s, a decade marked by dramatic shifts in corporate and political power. During this era, major financial institutions and corporations began to assert greater influence over public policy and the economy.

This was a pivotal moment in the consolidation of corporate power. As banks and corporations began to take over the political process, they co-opted the language of justice, equality, and progress for their own gain. Instead of fostering genuine social change, these entities used performative activism and media distortion to bolster their image as champions of social justice, even as they lobbied for policies that perpetuate inequality. The rise of neoliberalism in the 1970s, which shifted the focus from collective liberation to individual survival, set the stage for what Alexei Yurchak, a professor of anthropology,  terms hypernormalisation.

 According to Yurchack, hypernormalisation refers to a phenomenon where many people within a system can recognize that it is failing, but no one seems able to imagine any alternative to the status quo. In this reality, politicians and citizens alike are resigned to maintaining the pretense of a functioning society. Over time, the mass delusion became a self-fulfilling prophecy, with the masses accepting it as the new norm rather than a source for abolition, reform, or critical thought.

As corporations gained a firmer foothold in politics, they began shaping public perception through media manipulation. The rise of corporate PR campaigns in the 1970s helped construct the narrative of progress while obscuring the underlying economic inequalities that were deepening. The media, instead of challenging corporate power, often served as a mouthpiece, promoting stories of corporate success while diverting attention away from growing economic disparity. By the time DEI initiatives were introduced decades later, the corporate machinery that shaped public policy was already in place—able to present diversity and inclusion as progress, even when these initiatives often failed to address the structural inequalities that lay at the heart of society’s ills.

The intersection of media distortion, corporate power, and hypernormalisation created a society where true social change appeared increasingly unattainable. Just as media and corporate PR in the 1970s distorted public perceptions of progress, the hypernormalisation of DEI initiatives in the 2020s cultivated the illusion of racial equity. The media and corporate messaging suggested that the promise of diversity and inclusion was enough, leading to widespread resignation, particularly among those most affected by systemic oppression. Black women, MaGes, and other marginalized groups, who had long been at the forefront of resistance, were left to grapple with a system that offered only symbolic change and hollow promises.

Black women and Labor

The relationship between Black women and labor in the United States has been fraught with exploitation, neglect, and resistance. From slavery, where Black women’s labor was extracted for free, to Reconstruction and the post-Civil Rights era, Black women have been systematically marginalized in economic structures. This marginalization continues today in various forms, with Black women often occupying the lowest-paying, least secure jobs.

For instance, according to a 2020 study by the National Women’s Law Center, Black women in the United States are paid just 63 cents for every dollar paid to white, non-Hispanic men. This wage gap is even wider for Black women who are mothers, earning only 53 cents on the dollar compared to white, non-Hispanic fathers. This stark economic disparity illustrates a long-standing toxic relationship between Black women and labor, in which our contributions are undervalued despite their critical role in sustaining the workforce.

Today, Black women remain overrepresented in industries that are both low-wage and underregulated. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Black women make up a significant portion of the essential workforce in sectors like healthcare, education, and service industries. These sectors are notoriously underpaid and often fail to provide the benefits and protections necessary for workers’ well-being. As of 2021, 60% of Black women worked in service-related jobs, a sector plagued by poor wages and limited opportunities for advancement.

Additionally, a 2021 report from the Economic Policy Institute found that Black women have consistently faced higher rates of unemployment compared to white women. In 2020, the unemployment rate for Black women was 11.4%, compared to 8.1% for white women, a disparity that highlights the systemic barriers preventing Black women from accessing stable, well-paying work. The COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated these issues, as Black women were more likely to be employed in sectors hardest hit by the crisis, leading to disproportionate job losses and economic instability.

The overturning of Roe v. Wade, the erosion of workplace protections, and ongoing economic exploitation compound the historical inequalities that Black women have faced in the labor market. Moreover, Black women are often left out of the conversations surrounding labor reforms, despite being at the forefront of efforts to challenge exploitative practices. The modern-day relationship between Black women and labor remains one of resistance, but also survival within a system that continues to devalue our contributions.

The Emotional and mental work

Beyond the financial and structural barriers, Black women are also tasked with significant emotional and mental labor. This mental strain is rooted in our constant need to navigate oppressive systems while advocating for ourselves and others. A 2021 study by the American Psychological Association found that Black women experience significantly higher levels of stress and mental health issues related to workplace discrimination than their white counterparts. Over 40% of Black women report experiencing discrimination at work, contributing to burnout, anxiety, and depression.

These emotional burdens are compounded by the intersectional discrimination Black women face, where both race and gender are leveraged as tools of oppression. For example, a 2019 report from the Center for American Progress showed that Black women are subjected to both racial and gendered microaggressions in the workplace, which not only affect their mental and emotional well-being but also their career progression. Such stressors create an ongoing need for resistance, making it harder for Black women to envision a future outside of this toxic relationship with labor and the systems that sustain it.

We must begin by rejecting the pervasive narrative that systemic oppression is inevitable. Hypernormalization, the idea that the systems in place are unchangeable, has only served to perpetuate the cycles of harm. It’s essential that we name and understand the systems of racism, patriarchy, and capitalism, and refuse to accept them as natural or unchangeable. We must confront the lie that these systems are inevitable and, instead, embrace the understanding that the fight for justice is ongoing, adaptive, and necessary. By rejecting this sense of inevitability, we can begin to forge new paths and challenge the deep-rooted inequalities that continue to shape our lives.

Reclaiming agency starts with recognizing the power we hold as individuals and communities. Collective organizing and mutual aid are lifelines for Black women in the face of systemic neglect. In our communities, we’ve always had the power to reshape our narratives, to heal, and to protect one another. We must prioritize wellness, both individual and collective, in our resistance efforts. This is not only about fighting against oppression but about nourishing ourselves and our communities so that we can continue the work of liberation. The fight for equity cannot be sustained without care for the soulwork that grounds us. We must make an internal commitment to healing, to community, and to survival.

This is our call to action: to refuse to settle for a life dictated by the old rules and the old oppressions. To reclaim the narratives of our lives, our work, and our communities. And to build, together, the futures we know we deserve.