It’s been 3 months since the last sala edition dropped. I’ve been creating, grieving, traveling, meditating. Procrastinating. Resting. Living. On my own time.

I saw a video the other day that shook me a little. It said time is still, and we’re the ones moving through it.
Like, we’re the car, and time is the map. You might be headed to L.A. or New Jersey or wherever and they are different routes, different distances, but either way... you’re still going to get there.

That’s how I’ve been feeling about my life lately. About this work. About the timing of things. I’m not behind. I’m not late. I’m not rushing.
I’m on my timeline. And it feels so good to be here. I’ve felt so much pressure and guilt not releasing editions of my newsletter. Then I realized it’s this self-imposed pressure I’ve placed on myself. Maybe consistency had to look different this season to allow room for what else has been happening in my life.

and with that, I’ve also been thinking a lot about chasing vs. attracting.

I watched an interview recently with Big Sean and Jay Shetty — and something Big Sean talked about was how he no longer chases anything. He focuses on attracting. Because when you move with the energy of chasing, you're already operating from the belief that what you want is running away from you. Out of reach.

Whewwww. That hit.

Because honestly - I've been deeply immersed in what brings me joy, curiosity, creativity... and it’s wild how things have been flowing toward me. Without the force. Without the burnout.

Even with all the chaos around us — the headlines, the heartbreaks, the heaviness — I’m learning there’s still space to fill our own cups.
Still moments where what’s meant for us can come with ease.
Where it’s not about the grind but about the grounding.

In doing so, I’ve been able to go to the Martha’s Vineyard African American Film Festival for free, spend some time with Tabitha Brown, attend Michelle Obama’s live recording of her podcast IMO, see Bad Bunny twice in concert in Puerto Rico...all while planning a big festival. But more on that later.

griefsense podcast spotlight

Meet Chris Punsalan. A creator who has built a platform of over 6 million — but it’s the intention behind it that really stands out.

Recently, I sat down with Chris Punsalan for the griefsense Podcast — a creator I’ve been following for years, so this was a really beautiful moment for me and a milestone for the show. Many people had been following his journey as he was the primary caregiver for his grandmother. She recently passed and he’s been sharing his experience navigating this immense grief + new reality. I’d love for you to watch the full episode. There’s a part that really stuck with me in regards to content creation: Chris shared how he's been uploading content for over 10 years — and in the early days, no one was really watching. But what kept him going was the process. The love of editing. Stringing a story together. Being in Final Cut Pro. His dad always had a camcorder growing up, and that planted the seed. He said the thing that made it all click — was when he saw someone comment on one of his early music production tutorials saying, “Wow, this unlocked so much for me.” That was the moment. The high. The purpose. Because at that point, it wasn’t about content — it was about service. watch the episode now

Summer recap

So this summer, I experienced what felt like two homecomings.

1) Martha’s Vineyard (Noepe) African American Film Festival

I got to experience this year’s MVAFF as both a vendor and a creator. I worked side by side with my cousin at her mobile café, Hasta Luego Friend - pulling espresso shots, pouring coquito lattes, cafecitos, and capturing content for our business. I also partnered with Sourced to create content for a brand partnership while I was there.

This festival was more than an event. It was a vibrational shift. A portal. An ancestral alignment. Gratitude isn’t even the right word. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was a power source. Everyone was present, everyone was thankful, and you could feel it. Every conversation, every smile, every performance carried this sense of family reunion—like our souls were speaking to each other, like our ancestors were beaming right back at us.

Watching Sinners surrounded by everybody Black hit so much harder than the first time I saw it in theaters. Every day brought new connections, and every moment felt like an opportunity to nurture the bonds we were building with the festival team.

On the last day, I had what felt like an out-of-body moment. We began at Inkwell Beach, hundreds of us moving together in the polar bear ancestral tradition—Black elder women leading us through water aerobics, meditation, call and response. At one point, as voices rose and we turned to face the sun, I felt chills take over. They told us to leave our pain, our stress, our grief in the water. That the water could carry what we could no longer hold. In that circle of hundreds, it felt true. It felt healing.

We ended the trip serving drinks from the café to Gayle King, Naturi Naughton and her husband, Tabitha Brown and her family. One of our videos even went viral when we created a special drink in honor of Issa Rae…her team saw it, and now we’re in conversation.

So many blessings poured out of those ten days. Connections made. Opportunities sparked. Relationships rooted. It all felt bigger than us, like our ancestors were moving things in our favor.

2) Bad Bunny’s “No me quiero ir de aqui” residency experience in Puerto Rico

I thought I felt inspired at MVAFF but Puerto Rico amplified that feeling tenfold.

After everything our island has endured - colonization, gentrification, displacement- Bad Bunny created a space that called us home. He gathered people from all over the world, especially Puerto Ricans from the diaspora, and gave us a container to celebrate who we are. For a few hours, 18,000 of us sang and danced together, vibrating at our absolute highest. It felt like a homecoming, like our ancestors were dancing right alongside us.

One moment, in the middle of it all, I closed my eyes to meditate. The crowd disappeared. The music pulsed through me. Everything else felt so small as the noise was drowning out. I thought, I don’t know how, but I’ll be here again tomorrow. And I was— lol I came back alone the next night and, in the magic of synchronicity, still ran into friends.

When he performed Debí Tirar Más Fotos (DTMF), I broke down in the best way. That song isn’t just about pictures “I should have taken more photos” it’s about the longing to hold on a little tighter, hug a little longer, say “I love you” one more time to those that have died in our life. There’s also a double meaning that serves as a love letter to our beautiful island of Puerto Rico. Since losing my aunt in a car accident last October, right after my birthday, I can’t hear that song without thinking of her - and of the 35 other souls I’ve had to say goodbye to.

But I don’t believe death is the end. To me, it feels like an expansion of consciousness, a thinning of the veil where I can still feel my loved ones. Just how I do everyday, but especially at the polar bear plunge at Inkwell Beach, and now..again…singing with strangers that feel like familia. All of this reminded me that joy and grief can coexist and that our energy continues long after we’re gone.

This experience moved me so much that I tattooed the album cover on my arm, complete with the two little white monobloc chairs. If you’re Puerto Rican, you know those chairs are more than plastic - they’re memory/nostalgia, community, a place at the table. For me, one chair is mine, and one is for my aunt. A reminder that she (and all those I’ve lost) are always welcome to sit with me.

Some experiences don’t just inspire you, they rewire you. Puerto Rico did that. Bad Bunny did that. My cousin, my community, our ancestors…they all did that.

It reminded me that I don’t need to chase what’s mine. I can stand right here, grounded in who I am, and let it come. I can create from exactly where I am, with the tools, the creativity, and the love I already carry.

What about you— have you had an experience that shifted your energy and reminded you of your own power?

___

As I continue reminding myself of my own power and reflecting on these powerful summer experiences - I’m pouring that creative and ancestral energy into something close to my heart: planning the third annual Día de los Muertos celebration with my friends, all local entrepreneurs here in Hartford, CT. Together, we’re creating something special right where we are, using what we already have, and inviting our community to build it with us. It’s been one of the most beautiful experiences of my life.

That’s it for this week.

I’m carrying these moments with me into the next season. Wishing you ease, light, and reminders that you’re right on time. Keep attracting, keep creating, keep honoring your own timeline.

con amor,

mimi 🧡

☕ Grab your cafecito, tea, or whatever grounds you. Now let’s take a deep breath — inhale for 4....hold for 4 ....exhale for 4....and exhale loud, mi gente.

I want to talk about alignment for a second.

Alineación. It’s been living rent-free in my spirit lately. Alignment asks for discernment, self-awareness, and having people in your life who act as mirrors — people who expand you, not shrink you.

I’ve been journaling a lot. Meditating more. Making an intentional effort to tune out the noise of the world and tune into my own frequency. My own vibrations. My own channel.

Since doing that, opportunities I’ve only seen in dreams have started unfolding in real life. The same ones I cried over. The ones I thought were too far away while I was quietly holding it all together.

What a gift it is to know..like really know…when something is meant for you and when it’s not. It’s wild what happens when you start paying attention to how your body speaks. When things come up for me, I ask myself “does my nervous system consent to this?” and then I wait patiently. I wait to see what feelings, thoughts, or bodily reactions come up. Then I journal about it.

If I can feel my cells vibrating…if joy creeps up in a way that’s almost scary…if I start to picture it happening and feel that mix of peace, curiosity, and motivation…I lean in.

But if anxiety creeps in...if I spend hoursss to respond...if I start questioning or second guessing things, or if it is going to take up to much space in my mental real estate, if I picture myself accommodating and compromising or sacrificing too much..that tells me everything I need to know. That’s not alignment. That’s a no.

It’s not always clear-cut, though. I mean, we’re human. Sometimes things feel aligned in the moment, and later we realize they’re not. That’s bound to happen. But the more self-aware you become, the sharper your discernment gets.

What’s for you, will find you. And it will not only find you, it will not require you to shrink, suffer, or sacrifice your peace to make it work. Lean into saying no or not right now, more.

I’m getting better at trusting that compass. And as I do, my brand has been growing and flourishing in the most beautiful ways. I’m deeply grateful. But I’ve also realized: with growth comes more people wanting access to you.

And you have to ask: is this really for me?
Not everything that looks like a “yes” on the surface is meant to be a soul yes.

The more intentional and mindful you are with your “yes,” the more aligned opportunities and people will find you that will nourish your passions, interests, and energy. Your “yes” is sacred. Your “yes” is a gift, not a guarantee. Not everyone is ready for the access, energy, or responsibility that comes with your “yes.” Protect it accordingly.

That’s what I’ve been sitting with.

I’ve been through a lot. I carry a deep purpose and I’m dialed in. Alignment, true alignment, is what’s helping me stay grounded in that. It’s what’s led to brand partnerships, national news features, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. And it’s also what’s helped me say no to things that looked shiny in the moment, but dimmed my mission.

And the moment I fully surrendered to that clarity…

I went viral on YouTube.

And it didn’t feel how I expected it to.

Here is the video. Share it with someone you know. If you could consider subscribing to my channel, that would be great. I’m on a mission to get to 1000 subscribers. Por favor y gracias.

Let’s get into it.

I’ve spent the last year building systems that finally feel good:

🔁 LinkedIn is still home base — where I build deep community

📈 Instagram is finally growing — I love that for me

🎯 TikTok was supposed to be my next focus...

But then YouTube said: “Actually, I’m ready for you now.”

Over 234K+ views on a short about my grief story. 100+ new subscribers. More podcast views. Brutal comments tho and surprisingly low amount of likes + dislikes ratio to views. Thought that was interesting!

But overall…super positive and more validation to keep going in the direction that excites + challenges me.

Here are 5 takeaways for any creator or builder navigating multiple platforms:

👉🏽There’s still power in choosing one platform and growing from there.

👉🏽The platform you think will pop off may not be the one that does. Trust me, LinkedIn was the last place I thought I’d be an influencer or creator. Now here we are again.

👉🏽Systems > hustle I finally found a rhythm that works and it’s helped me create without burnout. Hint: it’s repurposing content + tailoring the message to that specific platform.

👉🏽Growth can feel neutral and that’s okay. Virality doesn’t always come with this magic moment or spark. Sometimes it’s just info. Insight. Data to build with.

👉🏽Let the comments reveal who your content is for. If it’s not for everyone, that’s the whole point.

I create for the ones who need it.

You don’t need millions to make impact. You need clarity. Community. And the courage to show up when it’s inconvenient.

🧠 And for the job seekers in the room (because I know not everyone here is a creator):

Sometimes the path forward shows up in a place you weren’t focused on. Be open to unexpected traction…whether it’s a platform, a post, an interaction IRL or a conversation in comments or DMs.

Your next role or opportunity might start where you simply showed up as yourself.

🧡 I’ll be leaning more into YouTube now. More podcasts. More griefy storytelling. My Northstar and internal compass I need to lean into even deeper.

More building the space I always needed. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

https://www.linkedin.com/posts/mimi-gonzalez_i-went-viral-on-youtube-but-what-it-taught-activity-7333124170651758592-lZ5V?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop&rcm=ACoAABoTKr4BSoEkH7pBlMhrbFxiVMwCn91jQlM

So tell me, ✨ like actually tell me, feel free to respond to this or message me… What’s something that terrifies you but excites you at the same time?

Where has your intuition been guiding you to lean more into? Let’s goo, vamossss 💃🏾

This is where responses from co-authors and readers will be featured: real stories from people in different industries about how they’re navigating work, creativity, grief, and mental health.

a sala story by Kayla Marrero

During my senior year of high school, I thought it would be the best year ever, but then I learned that my aunt, uncle, and two cousins had passed away. My older cousin and I did everything together, from bowling to discussing our college plans. I didn’t know how to cope, so I threw myself into my academics. Looking back, I wish I had taken more time to grieve instead of burying myself in work. As a minority, there's often pressure to move past trauma quickly. But I knew I wanted to turn my grief into something positive. For my cousin’s 21st birthday, I created the Syeed Memorial Scholarship, using $500 (a lot for a college student) to fund a student’s academic journey. My cousin was unable to cross the stage at his high school graduation, so I wanted to create an opportunity to honor his legacy. The scholarship required applicants to write an essay on gun violence, a topic that deeply impacted my life. Reading the essays made me realize I wasn’t alone in my grief and helped someone who needed it more than I did. This experience inspired me to give back to my community. Now, I volunteer with a nonprofit providing educational scholarships to students affected by violence. I channel my pain into projects bigger than myself. Aside from this, I also create content on LinkedIn about the importance of diverse representation in the media and share my expertise in the public relations industry.

Recommendations and practices that have helped my mental health lately:

1. I am obsessed with “A Different World” on Netflix.

2. Journaling, dedicating time to working out, and taking trips help me take care of my mental health. (Next Stop: Dallas)

3. My photography. Here’s my photography page.

a sala story by Ronni Edwards

One thing I've learned to navigate during grief is the reality of how it truly affects you physically and mentally. How to be vulnerable with strangers because we've all become part of a club we didn't ask for. My loss taught me that support is so important during the grief journey and helped me create a non profit to help others grieving while keeping my story alive. TikTok has helped me greatly during my grief journey by allowing me to be honest about the raw reality of grief. It has also helped me connect with families for my Non-profit www.bricksforb.com that was started after losing my son. We help support grieving families by sending LEGO packages for play therapy. We are always looking for supporters/donors and would love collaborators.

a sala story by Shauntelle Carnegie

One thing I wish more people talked about is that you can’t out-joy your grief. No amount of happiness, success, or achievement can erase the pain of loss. Whether it’s losing a loved one, a career opportunity, or even a version of yourself, grief is a persistent companion in life. And it’s not something that can be bypassed by “choosing joy” or trying to cover it up with positivity.

I’ve learned that grief doesn’t need to be “fixed” or erased. It just needs to be felt. I’ve navigated grief in many forms: the loss of family members, the grief of an absentee father, and the grief of a world forever changed by COVID-19. But in each of these moments, I’ve come to understand that joy doesn’t replace grief; it coexists with it. Joy and grief can walk side by side, teaching us to hold space for both.

This has shaped how I show up in my work and content creation. I create spaces where people can embrace their grief and their joy without judgment. It’s why I’ve built communities like Black Girl Season, a place where Black women can come together, share their grief, celebrate their wins, and honor their losses. By being open about the duality of joy and grief, I hope others feel less alone and more empowered to embrace both in their own lives.

Mental Health recommendations and practices that have helped me: There’s a cover of Angie Stone’s “I Wish I Didn’t Miss You” that’s been haunting me lately, in the best possible way. The original was set to a fast, dance beat, so you didn’t really focus on the lyrics. But this cover slows everything down, allowing you to feel the depth of the regret and grief the woman in the song is experiencing.

It’s the kind of song that reminds me that loss isn’t always just about missing someone. This cover feels like an anthem for anyone who’s ever grieved not just a person, but a part of themselves that they lost in the process. It’s like the song is telling the story of a woman mourning the loss of who she was and who he was, and that kind of grief is hard to put into words. It’s been resonating deeply with me, especially as I reflect on the idea that grief isn’t something we can outgrow or escape. It’s a part of our story, and sometimes, we have to make space for it to shape us in ways we don’t expect.

Manifestation is a daily practice for me, and having a Manifestation Portal I built from scratch on Notion has been key to staying grounded and intentional. It helps me reflect on my goals, track my progress, and see how the Creator of the universe responds when I’m clear on my “what” and “why.” Writing down my dreams and goals every day has worked wonders, not just for what I envision for myself, but for the communities I’m building too.

Call for collaborators: I’m gearing up for my podcast tour, and I’m so excited to bring these meaningful conversations to life. I’ll be diving deep into the themes of grief and joy co-existing, manifestation and the power in establishing a clear what and why, and sisterhood and belonging as resistance. These topics are close to my heart, and I believe they can spark real transformation and connection in the spaces we occupy.

If you’re a podcast host or know someone whose audience would benefit from these raw, real conversations, I’d love to connect! Whether you’re looking to have an open dialogue on grief, manifestation practices, or the power of community, let’s make some magic happen together.

Remember those aligned opportunities I mentioned earlier? Here are some that have happened just this year and in Mental Health Awareness month. I am sharing this as an offer and invitation to normalize being vulnerable, nurturing our mental health in community, and achieving your dreams while doing it.

1. I was featured in the “Let’s Face It” Campaign by Mental Health Connecticut. Which led to being interviewed by Univision and national TV.

2. Got to be a professional yappianna on #CreatorTeaTalk, the brainchild of the one and only Jayde Powell. We got to really talking about mental health, boundaries, and protecting our peace as Creatorpreneurs. Alex Lewis and Shira Lazar. Watch the replay here. It was soooo good!

3. I got to share my story as I was interviewed by NBC and got to honor my 36 angels that watch over me everyday.

4. I am getting to meet my social media friends IRL and I can’t tell you how much it’s soothed my nervous system, validated my journey, and made me realize this is all worth it.

   🎵 "My whole life has changed" Ginuwine voice 🎵 ✨

Pictured: Me on the left, Colin Rocker, Olivia Owens, Brandon Smithwrick, Jayde Powell, Gabby Beckford, and Christine Cariño

Salud! gracias for reading!

Please say hola to me on LinkedIn or Instagram - @mgonzz!

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☕ Grab your cafecito, tea, or whatever grounds you. Now let’s take a deep breath — inhale for 4....hold for 4 ....exhale for 4....One more time. Okay, let’s get into it 💃🏽

Each edition of the sala is inspired by a griefsense podcast episode about someone I’ve lost and the lessons they left behind. This is my way of making sure their names and stories are never forgotten.

This month, I’m honoring my best friend, Meghan and my grandmother, Wela Sefa. Their lives, and how they lived them, continue to shape the way I show up for my work, creativity, and community. Meghan’s birthday is 3/16 and Wela Sefa’s is 3/19. 🎈❤️‍🩹 And because it’s Women’s Month, I’m also holding space for all of us navigating what it means to be a woman or to be someone reclaiming their identity in a world that often makes that complicated.

This Edition’s Focus: Boldness. Belonging. Becoming.

How do we show up for our work, creative practice, or careers when life is… a lot?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about safety — not just physical, but emotional, mental, and financial.

Because if we don’t feel safe, it’s almost impossible to:
➜ Be bold enough to take the next step
➜ Find belonging in our work and communities
➜ Trust in our own becoming

And the world is a lot right now (tbh, when is it not?😅). It’s easy to feel stuck, stagnant, or like you’re pouring from an empty cup… speaking of which, what about the days you’re not even sure the cup is still there?

I get it. This month, I’m sitting with these three words:
👉🏽 boldness
👉🏽 belonging
👉🏽 becoming

They’re not buzzwords. They’re survival to thrival strategies. (i’m aware thrival isn’t a word, but it is in my head)
This edition is an invitation to create the kind of internal and external safety that makes bold moves possible, belonging sustainable, and your becoming inevitable.

📝 How do I create safety for myself and the spaces I’m building, so I can move forward intentionally?

That’s the question I’m asking myself — and now I’m asking you, too.

Lessons From Meghan + Wela Sefa: for Creators, Career Shifters, and Entrepreneurs

but first:

Quick story time: Meghan was my best friend. We met when I was about seven years old. She was full of life and had a laugh that lives in my head rent free. It was always the three of us: Meghan, Imahni (my sister), and me. The 3 Musketeers. The summer before she died is on constant rotation in my mind. We were at our favorite campground being silly teenagers — talking about boys, impersonating accents, eating cookies and s’mores, drawing with chalk, belly flopping in the ocean, and playing with hermit crabs like we didn’t have a single care in the world. That’s how I choose to remember her. My bestie. My dance partner. My everything. She unalived herself when we were juniors in high school. Halloween. October 31st, 2011. The day my life split into before and after. She would have turned 31 this year. Long live Meg. 🧡 

Me, Imahni, + Meg

Meg + I

Meghan’s Lesson ➜ Be bold

Meghan taught me boldness by how she lived and loved. She was color. She was energy. She spoke her mind unapologetically. She didn’t wait for permission.
➜ Sometimes you outgrow spaces before you’re ready to admit it.
➜ Sometimes the best move is the one that feels “too loud” or “too risky.”
➜ If you’re waiting for permission, you’ll be waiting forever.

This month’s reflection:
📝 What’s one bold move I’ve been avoiding?
Maybe it’s launching that project, looking for a new job, or sending a DM to that brand, journalist, or future collaborator. What’s yours?

now Wela Sefa’s turn! Her actual name is Josefina Torres.

Quick story time: Wela Sefa wasn’t my grandmother by blood, but she was mine.
When my mom had me at 17 and my dad passed away eight months later, it was just the two of us. And it was hard. No family, No support. Then Wela showed up…literally our guardian angel IRL. She took us in without hesitation. No paperwork. No conditions. Just love. She fed us. Raised us. Baptized me. She became my chosen family before I even knew what that meant. If you came to her house, you ate, whether you were hungry or not. She made cafecito like it was a love language (it was). She played dominoes like it was a full-contact sport and watched telenovelas like it was her job.

She passed away in 2018 from pancreatic cancer and, if I’m being honest, from a broken heart. She had lost so much. Her son, my Tio George, earlier that year from brain cancer. And years before that, her other son, My Tio Frank, died by suicide, just a few months before Meghan did. That kind of grief doesn’t just go away. I think it stayed with her, in her body and in her spirit, until it was too much to carry.

I find ways to honor her every single day.
🧡 Through griefsense and this newsletter!
🧡 By staying devoted to my craft, even on the hard days.
🧡 And now, with something that feels so full circle…helping my cousin open Hasta Luego Friend, our queer-owned mobile café in Hartford, CT.

Every cup of coffee we serve is a tribute to Wela.
Every space we create for people to belong — that’s her legacy at work. Long live Wela Sefa. 🧡

making cafecito!☕ ( I was about 5 here)

Masters graduation! (3 months before she passed)

Wela Sefa’s Lesson ➜ Belonging + Devotion

Belonging: Wela Sefa showed me what it meant to belong before I even had the language for it. She chose me and my mom. Took us in without hesitation when the world didn’t make space for us. She was my chosen family when we didn’t have one. She taught me that belonging isn’t about where you come from, it’s about who shows up for you and creating environments that make you feel safe to be you. She taught me that belonging is a choice we make every day, for ourselves and for others. And that’s what I try to create in my work, in the sala, and in every space I build.

Devotion + Commitment to the Craft: She was also the blueprint for devotion. She raised her kids and grandkids without a partner. She showed up for her people. She was in church five days a week, not because she had to, but because she wanted to be there. That kind of discipline and commitment sticks with me.
I’m not in church five days a week lol but I’m here, showing up for my work, my craft, and my people. Whether you’re an entrepreneur, a creator, or someone figuring out your career, devotion is what builds legacy.
Building community, growing your career, making art or creating content…none of it works without consistency and intention.

So, we can ask ourselves:
📝 What am I truly devoted to?
And…
📝 Where are you creating belonging - for yourself and the people you serve?

Becoming (The Invitation for You)

Becoming is messy and the process is often unseen. No one knows what it takes for you to show up everyday. Sometimes:

• It’s releasing an old version of yourself.

• It’s giving yourself permission to grieve a version of your career, creativity, or business that no longer fits.

• It’s knowing you can hold the grief of what was, and still move forward.

📝 What version of yourself are you releasing so you can become who you’re meant to be next?

This is where responses from co-authors and readers will be featured: real stories from people in different industries about how they’re navigating work, creativity, and mental health.

a sala story by Nadia De Ala

The grief of being a leader/business owner who had to downsize/layoff/let go of a team that I absolutely loved. Tl;dr "scaled my business" by hiring two full-time employees for my business and we grew and co-created in a beautiful way for 3-4 years. 2022 was our most abundant year yet, and 2023 was a huge decline due to DEI/Learning & Development budgets being cut -- the grief of feeling like a failure, of feeling like a terrible person taking the livelihood of others, and also the grief of choosing me and my wellbeing. I don't hear many people talking about what it takes to have a human-centered layoff either. And, how 2024 I migrated to another country, while slowly fucking around and finding out what my business is without my team, who I want to be, how I want to move, what kind of content I want to create, what matters most to me, and reimagining what's possible for me and my work. I believe grief is a potent and wise teacher if we choose to listen, and this shaped the joy I get to experience today.

how would you describe your creator identity?  The core has always been leadership and negotiation content for BIPOC women & femmes -- ways to take up space authentically, keep it real and root in your truth, and get the pay, position, and recognition you deserve. It's evolved so much over the years to overall wellness, living a life you love fully, self-tenderness and self-love, taking risks and being able to do what you say you want to do.

What’s one thing LinkedIn (or the creator economy in general) could do to better support content creators? I think it'd be rad if these platforms didn't oppress the voices of those who care about social justice and speak up -- I actively speak up loudly about Palestine's liberation and experiencing intense shadowbanning is so disheartening on platforms. LinkedIn, it's hard to gauge, but IG is so painfully obvious. In almost 4k followers, my views can go as low as 5-20 people only after speaking up. It's hard for a small business owner and creator that gives a damn on these platforms.

Are you currently looking for collaborators or support on a project? Well, I'm co-leading my very first retreat in Oaxaca, Mexico this May 12-16th, the Collective Creation Retreat. It's a sanctuary for QTBIPOC women, femmes and nonbinary friends and we have 4 out of the 8 spots filled -- if there's a possibility of sharing with the community to help us call in aligned beings, we'd welcome that. This is the first of many retreats I hope to host, as I have dreams of creating regular wellness retreats for BIPOC femme leaders -- both groups and 1:1 retreats. A dream in the making for years in my work.

Is there an event, conference, or community space in your field that more people should know about? I did invest in my first coach since 2021 (after over investing in coaching -- but 'ick' capitalist biz coaching -- for the first few years of my business). Natalia Sanyal's 'Activate' 1:1 async marketing and copy program, to help me embody my values and reconnect with my voice and vibe again. Just finished and I'm truly in more of a creative writing practice that's consistent and rooted in love and devotion.

What’s a song, book, or show that’s getting you through right now? Songs: Cleo Sol's songs 'Know that You Are Loved' and 'Her Light.'

Nadia De Ala (she/her/siya)

a sala story by Anna Bullock

 A month after I got my first freelance client, I suffered a devastating miscarriage. After it happened, I sat in bed for weeks. My husband would bring me food and water. My daughter would show me her favorite videos. Somehow I managed to answer emails on my laptop and come up with excuses for having my camera off in meetings. For a good month, I was a shell of a person. Many of my memories from that time are still blurry for me. One day I remember springing to life after a strange dream. I told Ryan "I don't know how, but we didn't lose him for good. He's coming back to us." Another month passed and I was pregnant with my son who I'm told is a "rainbow baby" and he is healthy, strong, and vibrant. This experience taught me that even through the most serious grief, we can love each other back to a safe and warm place so we can be whole again. This experience made me appreciate the value of community as someone who had a history of hyper-independence. I learned how to accept the love and support I'm given when my best is not enough on its own.

how would you describe your creator identity? Sprinkled with pop culture and my random obsessions, I create content around work, systems, and the life surrounding them. My newsletter focuses on hard lessons for surviving in business, with the warmth and brutal honesty that only a mother can give. The business page for my services focuses on technical tips, tutorials, and resources to make work better, faster, and easier.

Are you currently looking for collaborators or support on a project? I'm working on a podcast and new YouTube venture. I've worked on the back end of those processes for clients, but never as the host myself, so I'm open to connecting with anyone who has experience on the talent side of things.

Is there an event, conference, or community space in your field that more people should know about? Teachable x Creator Economy NYC are hosting "Connect" on May 10th, bringing together creators and entrepreneurs. As someone who is a member of both groups, I definitely want to attend and hope you all can make it to! Check it out here.

Anna Bullock (she/her)

a sala story by Sevval Cira

I have been grieving since I was seven years old. Grieving my family, my teenage years, a sense of safety—things I didn’t even have the words for back then. On the outside, my life looked perfect, but inside, I carried a weight too heavy for a child. Now, as an adult, that grief has shape-shifted into guilt, anxiety, and panic attacks. I’ve spent my life being strong for others. No one ever taught me how to let someone be strong for me. It’s left me in a constant battle: longing for a kinder world, yet struggling to trust the people in it. I’ve seen family and friends struggle with depression, suicidal thoughts and anxiety my whole life, until today. It hurts to see others hurt. I’ve always believed in the beauty of small things—a smile from a stranger, an old couple sharing ice cream, the quiet comfort of friends sitting together. Life is precious. I wish more people would cherish it.

But I’ve also learned that the world isn’t always kind to people like me. Those who feel deeply, who carry things in their hearts, who crave harmony in a world driven by power and greed. That realization made me walk away from corporate life. I couldn’t exist in a space where empathy was seen as weakness, where success was built at the expense of those who care too much. Still, I hold on to hope. I’ve learned that there are people who truly see me, who give without expectation, who support not out of obligation but because they care. And yet, loneliness lingers. I often wonder: why is it so easy for me to sense how others feel, yet so rare for someone to truly understand me? I grieve for a world where kindness is the norm, where people don’t suffer because of the selfishness of others. I don’t believe people are born bad. I believe the world can make them that way. But I also believe in change. I believe in building something different. That’s why I create. That’s why I foster community. Not for validation or performance, but because I want to carve out a space where honesty isn’t commodified—where we speak our truths, not for engagement, but because we feel deeply. A space where kindness wins.

What’s a tool, practice, or platform that’s helping you care for your mental health or has made your journey as a content creator easier? Being offline has been my greatest reset. Allowing me to truly be present, to breathe, to exist without the weight of constant noise. Cherishing the small moments, feeling the fresh air on my skin, and simply pausing, even for a few seconds, has been healing in ways I never expected. For the past seven years, yoga has been my act of self-love: a sacred ritual I refuse to let go of. Daily breath work grounds me, while the words of Brianna Wiest remind me that growth often comes from the hardest places. These practices don’t erase the struggles, but they help me move through them with more grace, more understanding, and a little more peace.

how would you describe your creator identity? I create content that challenges perspectives: bold statements designed to make people pause, reflect, and rethink their reality. My mission is to advocate for mental health, Gen Z, and break the stigmas that hold us back. I want to inspire others to step outside their comfort zones, take bold risks, and lead with confidence. Because when we prioritize our well-being, we create space to uplift and support one another.

Are you currently looking for collaborators or support on a project? Right now, I’m exploring opportunities with organizations focused on social causes like education, healthcare, humanitarian relief, and poverty alleviation. If any of this resonates with you, I’d love to connect! Whether you’re a fellow creator, a brand, or part of a cause-driven initiative, my DMs are always open. Let’s create something meaningful together.

Sevval Cira (she/her)

a sala story by Lana Ivory

The tech layoffs over the past few years were my wake-up call. Although I wasn't directly impacted, they highlighted how dangerous it is to tie your personal identity too closely to a company you don't own. I wish more people talked about the genuine struggle of separating self-worth from professional accomplishments, especially in high-pressure industries, like Big Tech.

Most people don't know this, but I interviewed at Meta last summer and didn't get the job. I was devastated but accepted it wasn't right for me at the time. Shortly after, I was offered a role at AWS as the only PMM leading the GTM strategy for a 9 figure Tier-1 launch. In just 6 months there, I found a supportive environment, rediscovered my love for content creation, and grew tremendously. Since I showed up to my Meta interview at 100%, the recruiter reached out 6 months after my initial rejection to offer me a role. Those 6 months in between leading an S-Team AWS project prepped me to make an immediate impact in my new role. This whole process taught me to embrace the "Law of Detachment" – letting go of attachment to outcomes, embracing uncertainty, and accepting that rejection isn't a reflection of my capabilities. It's understanding that the right opportunities align when they're meant to.

This shift in perspective hasn't just protected my mental health during setbacks-- it's truly changed how I approach my work. From a corporate perspective, I've learned to focus on controlling what I can while accepting that many decisions involve factors beyond my influence. From a personal standpoint, I'm now committed to sustainable growth and long-term impact, which has made me more authentic in how I lead, mentor others, and build relationships. Remember, change can be scary, but sacrificing your wellbeing for a job is scarier.

What’s a song, book, or show that’s getting you through right now? This is so basic (😅) but I still have TTPD: The Anthology on repeat. Professionally, Diary of a CEO podcast will forever be a staple in my podcast rotation. The final 2 books I'm looking to finish for March include "Let Them" by Mel Robins (not sure how I feel about it yet) and "Women Who Run with the Wolves" by Dr. Pinkola

how would you describe your creator identity? I create content that amplifies Gen Z voices in Big Tech while bridging the generational gap between leadership and younger employees. It started with sharing insights on Reverse Mentoring — a practice where junior employees mentor senior leaders, creating a two-way exchange that helps executives understand emerging perspectives while giving younger talent visibility and influence. I take an unconventional approach to Linkedin content with EGC (employee generated content). My "Day in the Life" series takes my followers behind the scenes of what it really looks like being a PMM in Big Tech — showing the unfiltered realities, challenges, and wins from a unique POV.

What’s one thing LinkedIn (or the creator economy in general) could do to better support content creators? LinkedIn should prioritize creator and creator tools more in their product roadmaps. It's surprising that despite the platform's influx of creators over the past year, the UI remains clunky, analytics are frustratingly limited, and there's no creator fund for monetization. For a platform built on professional connection, LinkedIn seems to have missed that creators are driving some of its most valuable engagement.

Lana Ivory (she/her)

a sala story by Lindsey Kee

I wish more people talked about the infinitely variable definitions of success. When I started my corporate career, I had grand ideas about what a successful (read: happy) life would be like for me. I pursued a conventional path to success, and I defined my entire self (and worth) by my career achievements. About 15+ years later, I came to realize I'd been living with the wrong-for-me definition of success.

Back then, I didn't know who I was beyond my career. Exploration of my “true self” identity wasn't something that was fostered when I was growing up. I learned the limiting belief that “your worth is your work/productivity”. So I built a life & career based on what I thought was expected of me. Instead of being rewarded with the success and happiness I'd imagined, I was rewarded with burnout, self loathing, and emptiness.

Fortunately, every step of that unfulfilling career path led me to find my purpose, learn how to like & love myself (even if I don’t like how I’m being in a given moment), and best of all—being able to design a life I love waking up in…yes, even on weekdays. I wish I could tell my younger self that you can define success in ANY way that FEELS RIGHT FOR YOU!

What’s a tool, practice, or platform that’s helping you care for your mental health? One of my "can't live without it" tools for my mental/emotional wellbeing is Messy Journaling. (If that's not an official term, it should be - Lol). Journaling lets me show up anytime, anywhere, any way. I can get the swirling mess of thoughts out of my mind, and land them someplace tangible. I can sift through those puzzle pieces, and then figure out what I really need and want in that situation. Journaling has let me down exactly zero times! :)

how would you describe your creator identity? I'm a content creator on LinkedIn who helps mid- and late-career women uncover what they really want in their work & life, so they can design a life they actually love waking up in.

Are you currently looking for collaborators or support on a project? Between March and May, I'm currently accepting only 2 new coaching clients for 1:1 Women’s Executive Coaching services. If you know of any women who may be interested in investing in their professional & personal growth, feel free to share my LinkedIn profile. I welcome DM’s and connection requests. Thank you so much!

Lyndsey Kee (she/her)

a sala story by Paula Sima

One of the biggest things I’ve had to navigate is the grief of losing versions of myself—whether due to burnout, rejection, or simply outgrowing spaces I once felt at home in. People talk a lot about losing loved ones (which i have lost quiet a few), but not enough about losing yourself—the version you once believed you’d become, the dreams that didn’t unfold the way you planned, or the communities that no longer align with who you are. That kind of grief is quiet but just as heavy & the loss of losing yourself is unmatched either.

Burnout has been another tough lesson or should i say beast I’ve battled, especially in spaces where I’ve poured my heart in, only to realize the support I give isn’t always reciprocated… I used to take rejection personally—whether from people, opportunities, or even my own expectations of how life should go. I used to believe that being surrounded by people meant being supported, but I quickly learned that not everyone reciprocates energy the way I do. Losing myself and so much has taught me that redirection is just as powerful as success. I’ve learned to invest my energy in communities that see me, in work that fuels me, and in content that reflects my truth, not just what’s trendy or expected. Learning to redirect my efforts toward spaces and people who truly see me has been game-changing.

It’s reshaped how I build community— choosing authenticity over numbers, depth over surface-level connections. I build community for the ones who need it the most—the ones who have been through hell and are still finding ways to laugh, create, and push forward. Because that’s what keeps me going too.

At the core of my work, my content, and the spaces I create, there’s always room for real conversations. I show up for the people who have felt overlooked, misunderstood, or like they had to shrink themselves to fit in. Because I’ve been there too. And if my journey has taught me anything, it’s that losing parts of yourself isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning of something new. Growth is POWERFUL so is taking care of your mental health and that is why i chose & prioritize PEACE over everything.

What's a tool, practice, or platform that's helping you care for your mental health or has made your journey as a content creator easier? Two things have been game-changers for me: community and boundaries. First, having a solid community, whether through Podfest, fellow creators, or the spaces I’ve built, have been essential. Creating content can be isolating, and the pressure to constantly produce, engage, and “stay relevant” is real. Surrounding myself with people who get it, who celebrate wins, understand the struggles, and remind me to take breaks— has been one of the best forms of mental health care. Second, setting boundaries with social media, content creation, and even collaborations has saved me from burnout. Not every opportunity is worth my energy, and not every platform deserves my time. Learning to say no (without guilt) and prioritizing what actually fuels me has made this journey sustainable. And this goes beyond my work, this works for my personal life, family & friends. If I had to pick a tool, Google Calendar keeps me sane— because if it’s not scheduled, it doesn’t exist!

Is there an event, conference, or community space in your field that more people should know about? Podfest Expo! It isn’t just a conference, it’s where podcasters belong. Whether you’re new or seasoned, this is the space to grow, connect, and learn without the ego or gatekeeping. It’s hands-on, it’s collaborative, and it actually feels like community. If you haven’t been, you’re missing out.

Are you currently looking for collaborators or support on a project? Yes! Right now, I’m working on Shattered Mirrors: Pieces of Me—a journal-meets-podcast project that explores self-discovery, mental health, and the raw, unfiltered journey of unbecoming everything the world told us to be. Each chapter comes with an audio episode (accessible via QR codes) where I dive deeper into the themes with real, unapologetic conversations. I’m looking for collaborators, sponsors, and supporters who align with this vision—whether that’s mental health professionals, writers, podcast guests, or brands that value authentic storytelling. If you’re passionate about breaking societal molds, sharing real stories, or just vibing with this kind of project, let’s connect!

Paula Sima (she/her)

If this edition resonated with you, follow our incredible creators and co-authors, support their work, and share this with someone who might need it or share on LinkedIn and tag us!

If you’d like to be featured in the sala newsletter, share your story here.

We are expected to hold everything: the work, the care, the grief, the joy, the pain…
And we’re supposed to do it gracefully. perfectly. quietly. urgently. …yea, nah.

This month, I’m reclaiming:
✨ Boldness: Speaking up. Taking up space. Setting my #BBE - Big Boundary Energy.
✨ Belonging: Creating safe spaces for women, femmes, & gender-expansive folks.
✨ Becoming: Trusting in the messy process of growing, healing, creating, and living.

For you, it might be pivoting careers. Launching your business. Creating work that speaks to something deeper, or simply BEING, but whatever it is… we all get to choose what becoming looks like. And no one else gets to decide that for you.

con amor,

mimi, the zillennial griever 🧡

Each edition of the sala is inspired by a griefsense podcast episode about someone I’ve lost and the lessons they left behind. This is my way of making sure their names and stories are never forgotten. Sharing these stories brings us together and it reminds us that grief isn’t just personal, it’s rooted in community. It also reminds us that professionalism is subjective because in my humble opinion, what’s more “professional” than talking about mental health?

I truly believe grief is at the core of mental health, yet it’s so often spoken about in myopic, surface-level ways, if talked about at all. But grief is layered. For me, it has been both a blessing and a curse, bringing deep pain but also fueling creativity, connection, and community.

Growing up, I didn’t have a word for what I felt after losing so many people — how, despite the grief, I had the audacity and ambition to live more unapologetically, more fully, more lovingly, more presently. So much loss sparked this and I didn’t understand it. I later gave a word to this feeling: griefsense. It’s that inner voice, that sixth sense to live life as a privilege.

If you’ve ever lost a loved one or something that mattered and felt a creative spark or momentum in the aftermath, then maybe griefsense is your experience too.

p.s. ➜ I launched The Sala today to honor my grandmother, Bernice Wallace. Her birthday is February 19th. She’s still here but navigating some health challenges. She came into my life when I was 7, when my mom and dad started dating. After my biological father died, I didn’t have relationships with my biological grandparents, so gaining her felt like a gift… an extra grandma. Actually, I got two bonus grandmas because my dad is adopted. I always told Grandma Bernice how much I love her, how grateful I am to have her. She once told me that because of me, she now says “I love you” regularly — something she never grew up hearing as much or saying to my dad and his siblings as much either. The fact that, in her older age, she’s learning the beauty of nurturing relationships? That’s everything to me. I can’t wait to tell her I launched this on her birthday.

my sala story is inspired by my aunt - Red T. 

a picture of us when I was younger.

If there’s one thing she has taught me, it’s that relationship currency is the only currency that truly matters.

Not what you do for work. Not how much money you make.
Not your follower count. Not your social media metrics.

When we strip everything down…when life drags us against the concrete with loss, burnout, or unexpected life transitions…the only thing that remains is the quality of the relationships we’ve nurtured. I mean, who is really there for us at the end of the day?

And yet, so many of us spend more time collecting connections than building and co-creating relationships.

My aunt’s name is Gethzayda Cruz, but I grew up calling her Titi Tundra. She preferred to go by Red T — her alter ego, or maybe just the truest version of herself. She passed away four months ago, on October 16, 2024, in a tragic car accident…just a week after my 29th birthday. She had been planning a birthday surprise for me when I got back from my trip to Aruba, but we never got the chance. She wasn’t just my aunt. She was my second mom. My best friend. One of my anchors in this life. To say there’s a hole in my heart is an understatement. And while I know she knew I loved her, I still wish I had told her more or shown her more, intentionally.

So here’s my question for you: Are you nurturing the relationships that actually matter to you? Or are you giving all your energy to the ones that drain you?

What is Relationship Currency?

It’s the kind of wealth and abundance that never loses value. It’s about who you invest in, and who invests in you. And that can look different for everyone:

🔸 A mentor from a previous workplace/ school/ program who shaped your career: when was the last time you reached out to say thank you?
🔸 A LinkedIn connection whose posts always hit home: have you ever messaged them to tell them how much their words mean to you?
🔸 A friend or someone who shows up for you, even when you disappear: how are you showing up for them in return?
🔸 A creator, author, or speaker whose work has impacted you: what’s stopping you from sending that message and letting them know?
🔸 A family member or someone you appreciate: how can you show it beyond words? A small, thoughtful gesture can go a long way.

Personally, I’m a big fan of snail mail, handwritten notes, and voicemails. With so many people in my life now gone, I hold onto those small pieces of them like there’s no tomorrow… literally. In a world that is constantly demanding more from us, acknowledging someone’s impact could be the one thing that lightens their load.

I feel like I need to say this. As a recovering people pleaser, I used to hold onto relationships out of fear…fear that if I let go, I’d regret it if they died. It kept me stuck in relationships that needed space, boundaries, or honestly, bridges that needed to burn completely..and this includes relationships with jobs or institutions too.

After the trauma of losing 36 friends and family members, this made me think I had to hold onto every relationship, even the ones that drained me. I compromised my boundaries just to keep the peace. But the truth is: some relationships benefitted from me not having boundaries (and as much as this makes me wince a bit)…death doesn’t change that.

When I resigned from my corporate Chief of Staff job in 2022, I fully embraced #BBE —Big Boundary Energy. It taught me that multiple truths can exist: we can take care of our needs and pursue self - preservation. We can let go and honor what once was.

“Got that real big energy” - Latto

Anything in overflow can become toxic, right? Our culture rewards martyrdom. Where giving until we have nothing left is seen as honorable. We’re celebrated for self-sacrifice. My aunt was that too. She gave and gave until there was nothing left.

#BBE also taught me that self-preservation without community can become isolation and Community care without self-preservation can lead to burnout.

So the real question is:
💭 How do we honor our own boundaries while still showing up for others?
💭 How do we care for our people, our careers, our goals without self-sacrificing to the point of depletion?
💭 How do we build spaces where collective well-being isn’t just about giving but about reciprocity?

We’re told that if we play by the rules: work hard, stay available, keep producing that we’ll be safe. But that’s a lie. Work will replace you. Social media will drain you. Institutions will demand more and give less. This is what leads to burnout. Many of us think burnout is just about doing too much. Nope. It’s about being conditioned to be too available to systems that don’t value us. Even in our personal lives, we’re taught that being constantly on (always giving, always accessible) is the price of being seen, loved, or successful.

But we create real safety when we center each other. When we refuse to be overextended. When we set boundaries and recognize that care must be mutual, not transactional. What does it mean to unplug? To resist urgency? To build both personal and professional relationships that pour into us just as much as we pour into them?

The answer lies in intention. Protect yourself and pour into others, but do both in ways that are sustainable, nourishing, and rooted in love with reciprocity, not extraction.

Mayed said it best: “Renew your energy and pour it back into yourself and spaces where you feel loved and cared for.” That’s the goal.

and when someone truly matters to you, SHOW THEM. We assume people just know how much they mean to us. But what if they don’t?

I wish I had shown my aunt more. And I don’t want you to sit with that feeling.

Now the part we've all been waiting for…🥁🥁🥁🥁

Sala Stories 🛋️🧡 

a sala story by sahibzada mayed | صاحبزادہ مائد 

This reflection feels particularly timely as next week marks the 3rd anniversary of my grandmother’s passing and becoming an ancestor. One of the things I’ve been meditating on lately is my relationship with grief—a very beautiful, complex, and messy emotion that is also incredibly misunderstood. I believe grief is birthed from the remnants of love and it requires us to pay attention to where a wound has been created. One of the things I have learned from the process of grieving (an emergent and intentional practice of embodiment) is that it fundamentally changes who you are and how you are.

The past several months have also been profound and revelatory in a myriad of ways and I’ve given myself the space to deeply reflect on fractured relationships. I wrote the following affirmations a while ago and still return to them as needed. 

• It is okay to let go of relationships that no longer align with who you are and how you are.

• It is okay to acknowledge that change is the only constant and sometimes change leads to fracture.

• It is okay to grieve someone and who you knew them to be. Let that grief move you to a place of love.

• It is okay to tend to the wound caused by their absence. Allow yourself to pay attention to what requires nourishing. 

• It is okay to choose yourself and protect your peace of mind. You do not always have to give. Sometimes, you can take—space for yourself. 

• Renew your energy and pour it back into yourself and spaces where you feel loved and cared for.

with gratitude and care,

mayed

sahibzada mayed | صاحبزادہ مائد (any)

a sala story by Deja White

Losing my job felt like the rug was ripped out from under me. I had finally found my stride in a high-pressure environment, only to wake up one day with my access denied and an email from HR ending it all. At first, I was overwhelmed with sadness, grappling with the stages of grief that come with any kind of loss. But looking back, I see that this moment was my Canon Event. These are pivotal, life-changing experiences that shake you to your core but ultimately propels you forward. It’s like every superhero origin story: the loss, the struggle, and then the transformation. Without that low point, I wouldn’t have been forced to confront what I truly wanted, step outside of my comfort zone, and grow into the person I needed to become.

That layoff not only reshaped how I approach my own work and life, but it also made me passionate about helping others rethink their relationship with work. It’s taught me to build deeper, more intentional connections and to focus on work that aligns with my values and goals. Now, I see this experience as a way to make an impact, whether by reshaping how others think about their careers or inspiring them to embrace their own Canon Events as the foundation for growth. It’s those tough moments that turn us into the people we’re meant to be and help us make the difference we’re meant to make.

Deja White

a sala story by Justin Malone

In 2024, I battled anxiety and depression. As a newlywed, I felt pressure to provide for my wife and be a leader. This led me to overwork, burn out, and lose myself. I chased society's definition of manhood rather than my own. I lost touch with my inner self - the one who loved creating.

When I was grieving my younger self, everything I loved felt foreign. I lost the art of having fun. Creating content was a chore when it had always been an outlet. At that point, I knew I needed to reclaim my identity. I took the necessary time away from my job and content creation to pause, rejuvenate, and explore the intricacies of me. Now, I prioritize self-care and my faith walk in my daily life. This has impacted how I build community as I'm more intentional when I connect with people. I value every interaction and am willing to limit the number of interactions I have to remain intentional. I can't give from an empty cup, and I want others to feel empowered to take the time to do the same.
follow Justin:

linkedin.com/in/malonejustin
justinmalone.me/
instagram.com/mrjustinmalone

Justin Malone

a sala story by Tee Kay

Grief can be a powerful teacher. But most of the lessons you'll learn won't come until much later. You'll really have to have some distance between the ugliest parts of the journey before you can really see the takeaways as information. And I don't mean it as data for social media purposes, but more so for how to grow nearer to yourself. Getting to know yourself better is valuable “data” to have and self-awareness is so incredibly important. The way we implement this “data” is very fascinating to me.

Some may use it for next time, to simply know how to handle a similar situation in the future. Some may use it to change their behavior and lifestyle to avoid ever being in a similar situation again. Another might use it to be a better caretaker, friend or family member —providing a special level of care that can only come from experience. A life lived.

Another might write about it, sing about it, paint about it, make a film about it. Another might teach about it. Or maybe…maybe your life just goes back to normal and it’s as if it never happened with glimmers of ‘what was’ popping in and out of your memory from time to time. Grief is special like that; linear and nonlinear. Stages and memories, stored up like fatty tissue trying to clog your arteries. Don’t let it. Don’t let it poison your gut.

Tee Kay

a sala story by Nyam Adodoadji

In 2021, at age 36, I was working at yet another job where I gave my best, but felt depleted and inadequately supported. I looked back on the past fifteen years and in astonishment wondered, where has my life gone? Over those all those years, I wrestled to keep a full time job while also feeding my creative soul. Most of the time, it didn’t work; at least not in the way I wanted it to. I was too drained after working all day to figure out what to do creatively.

By the time I reached this job, I was at my peak level of self-advocacy and self-preservation, communicating clearly and consistently to my employers what I needed to do my best work; however, I still hit burnout. I felt like a failure for continuously hitting this breaking point and needing to leave the world of tech. I felt the metaphorical finger was pointed at me for not having better boundaries, even though I heard peers echoing the same experiences of exhaustion and frustration that management disregarded their needs.

As a creative, I felt uncommitted because I couldn’t stay up for long hours after my day job to work on music or writing because I needed to sleep in order to work in the morning. I felt the delicate and inevitable sense of my mortality. Was my life just going to be one debilitating, draining job after another until I died? This question ignited my 2022 sabbatical, and now in 2025 being on the other side of that sabbatical, I’ve crossed a threshold, and I can’t go back. It’s not often expressed in the context of work and career, but I find myself full of grief. I’m grieving the ways my good will and work ethic were exploited. I’m grieving all the time and energy I gave to institutions that didn’t care whether I flourished or not. I’m grieving all the ways I didn’t get to cultivate my creative work, the work that comes from my soul.

I'm working on an online and in person event called The Mosaic Reflection Session (https://nyamadodoadji.myflodesk.com/mosaic-waitlist). My vision is to use poetry, music and art to create an avenue for tech professionals to acknowledge career grief. I'm looking for event producers (particularly in Atlanta, NY or SF Bay area), energy healers, visual artists and musicians who resonate with the vision to collaborate to bring this experience to life.

Nyam Adodoadji

If this any of these sala stories moved you, reply to this email or leave a comment to share your thoughts with us! Or take it further: Make a LinkedIn post and tag the creators: @sahibzada mayed | صاحبزادہ مائد, Deja White,@Justin Malone @Tee Kay, @Nyam Adodoadji, @Mimi Gonzalez and @griefsense to help amplify their stories and expand the sala’s impact.

the sala remix: grief & culture

Feb 19th is Pop Smoke’s death anniversary May he rest in peace. 🖤🕊 When Enjoy Yourself dropped, it was a moment for Black and Latine unity in music — whether you loved his music or not, he brought people together in a way that felt fresh and real. He was only 20. I can’t help but wonder what magic he would have kept creating.

Bad Bunny’s Debí Tirar Más Fotos This album hits different. The title translates to "I Should Have Taken More Photos," and if that’s not grief wrapped up in a sentence, I don’t know what is. But beyond personal loss, this album carries the weight of a different kind of grief. The kind of grief we are punished for talking about - the grief caused by colonization, gentrification, and the *attempted erasure of Puerto Rican identity. Bad Bunny doesn’t just give us music; he gives us history, reminders to stay present, and warnings about what we lose when we stop paying attention. Please watch this short film and listen to this song right after. The next time you wonder why someone Latine doesn’t speak Spanish, or why a diaspora community seems disconnected from their native language or traditions, remember: that is colonization and oppression in real time. Families were uprooted. Borders were drawn. People were stripped of their histories. Sound familiar?

Mo: a story that hits home If you haven’t watched Mo on Netflix, you’re missing out on one of the most raw, brilliant, and real depictions of what it means to navigate displacement, grief, and survival. Created by Palestinian comedian Mo Amer, the series tells the story of a Palestinian refugee in Houston trying to find stability while being undocumented. But Mo is more than just a show. It’s a mirror to all experiences of forced migration, generational grief, and the struggle to hold onto culture while constantly adapting. And as we witness the ongoing genocide and oppression of Palestinian people, this story feels even more urgent. Watching Mo is one small way to listen, to learn, and to push back against that erasure. Grief isn’t just about losing people. It’s about losing home, identity, and the right to exist. Don’t look away.

Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl Tribute Watch Kristina Williams’s breakdown of this and learn more about her work. Kristina shared how Kendrick took a stage designed for entertainment and turned it into a memorial for the 16 friends he’s lost. I can’t get it out of my head. That’s grief in action. That’s legacy work. Kendrick and legacy will always belong in the same sentence. Kendrick didn’t just perform at the Super Bowl. He made a statement. On so many levels, this was a moment of Black joy, resilience, and resistance and a reminder that there is no America without us. But this wasn’t only personal grief. This was collective grief. The grief of being Black in a country that profits off of Black creativity and Black labor, without ever pouring back into Black communities. The performance was layered: the dancers forming a fragmented American flag, the subtle nods to cultural exploitation, and the choice to perform Not Like Us by turning it into an act of reclamation. Here’s what I took from it: We are the culture. We are the foundation. And we will always find ways to remind you.

Billie Eilish’s Birds of a Feather This song lives rent-free in my head because it’s so grief coded. The ache of wanting to stay connected, of carrying love beyond death, of wanting someone to exist forever. And sometimes, grief sounds like a soft, quiet song on repeat.

Doechii & the grief of losing what you thought was for you A few years ago, Doechii got fired from her job. She recorded a video right after, sitting in her car, processing what just happened and feeling the weight of uncertainty but also saying, I don’t know what’s next, but I’m not giving up. And now she’s a Grammy-winning artist. This moment went viral recently because it’s a reminder that grief isn’t just about death. It’s about losing what you thought was for you. Losing a version of yourself, a sense of stability, the plan you had in your head. Getting laid off or fired isn’t just about a paycheck. It boils down to identity at the end of the day. The sudden shift from “this is who I am” to what now? Doechii’s story shows how grief and transformation go hand in hand. You don’t always get to choose the ending, but sometimes the loss is just the remix before the win.

Pose and the ballroom community as a living memorial Ballroom culture was born out of grief. Out of people being rejected by their families, by workplaces, by systems not made for them ON TOP of losing so many people in their community to the HIV/AIDS crisis. Pose captured that beautifully. It showed how grief and joy can exist in the same space, how storytelling keeps people alive, and how chosen family is sometimes the only family we have. I got to spend a few hours with Billy Porter in 2019, a year after Pose released once at a dinner and later when we were both speakers at the Obama Foundation Summit. His voice, his story, his audacity, his essence…is everything.

This Is Us and the healing power of storytelling This show is a grief legacy piece, a creative blueprint, a peak form of storytelling. IYKYK. But if you didn’t, here’s why it was so profound:

• It showed how grief transcends generations and cultures and how trauma doesn’t just disappear, it transforms.

• It validated the long-haul grief, the kind that doesn’t have an expiration date.

• It held space for the messy, nonlinear, and complicated emotions that come with every kind of loss - through death, career shifts, evolving identities, aging, adoption, distance, lost time, unspoken words, and relationships that slip away or never become what we hoped and probably much more that I am missing.

• This show made me feel seen. It reminded me that grief doesn’t just go away. we just learn how to carry it differently.

Grief isn’t just about loss. It’s about how we move with it. It shifts us, shapes us, and reminds us that all we have is now. That’s the heart of the sala. - a space to gather, to remember, to share the stories that keep us alive. We know that life isn’t promised. But especially if you come from a minoritized community, you know that a LONG life isn’t promised. We carry grief in our bones and in our bloodlines. Having the chance to live a long life is a reality many of us don’t get to experience…and that’s not by accident.

This is how we heal our lineages and how we heal each other. We share stories. We build community. We write, we create, we laugh deep belly laughs, we lead with curiosity and love. We care for each other with reciprocity, not extraction.

If this edition resonated with you, follow the incredible creators and co-authors, support their work, and share this with someone who might need it.

And if you want to go deeper, you can watch my podcast episode about my aunt, Red T and subscribe to the griefsense podcast on your preferred podcast platform.

p.s. if you or someone you know is experiencing the loss of a loved one, I have ready made templates for funeral programs, obituaries, and bookmarks like the one below. It’s a talent and skill I never asked for.

cheers to nurturing our relationships today and everyday ♥

con amor,

mimi, the zillennial griever 🧡

the possible #tiktokban has me spiraling a bit because as a grief content creator on the platform, i’m realizing how much we don’t appreciate something until it’s gone.

the anticipatory grief is real, and there are so many layers to this. like, i LOVE the community i’ve built on there: first-gen people like me who’ve been through the tragic loss of loved ones. people i’ve had the honor of having on the griefsense podcast, and meeting specifically through tiktok. it’s been truly lifesaving. like these are people i’d want at my wedding or speak at my future funeral. these are people who are my mirror reflecting back the strength, resilience, and creativity i didn’t always know i had.they’re the people who tell you “im so happy to see you smiling” because they remember the days when you couldn’t. we’ve shared our first “worst thing can ever happen” together - and we’re complete strangers!!! i will also miss the search engine voodoo that is tiktok - like - finding people just like me all over the world, people who gave words to things i didn’t know how to express. it pushed me to embrace that my lived experience is more than enough to start creating or like one of my favorite content creators (Hindz) always says: “my credentials are in my spirit” or when he says “the best nutrition is self expression.”

on top of this, tiktok also helped us imagine careers and possibilities we never thought were for us. and while people love to say oh "own your platforms," it’s a yes/and situation for me. yes, it’s important to have your own spaces, AND it’s equally important to build community where people who look like you and share your experiences already hang out. tiktok has been that place. and to think i was JUST starting to take it more seriously!

to think it could disappear... let’s just say, the grief is layered. i appreciate it so much more now. plays debi tirar mas fotos by bad bunny 🖤

sending love to all my fellow creators & grievers on tiktok 🧡 

con amor, mimi