Breathing with Our Ancestors
Lately, I’ve been returning to one of the simplest but most powerful practices we carry with us everywhere: our breath. Breath is more than just air moving in and out. It is a bridge. Each inhale and exhale root us in the present moment, reminding us that we are alive, here, and whole. But for me, breath has also become a way to connect across time to the love, strength, and legacy of my ancestors.
As some of you know, I was abandoned by my biological family. For years, that absence left me with questions. At the same time, I carried a deep knowing that systems of oppression were at play in my story. Somehow, I trusted that one day I would have that knowing confirmed. Breath became a ritual of healing, a way to remind myself that even if I didn’t know their names or faces, I was still carried by the people who came before me.
I was also blessed to be adopted and raised by two amazing Black women, my momma and my granny, who taught me the power of community care, of showing up for one another, of building lives and families out of love and resourcefulness. My granny has now joined the realm of the ancestors, but I continue to access her strength in every breath.
She is proof that our ancestors are not only behind us in history but present with us in spirit, steadying our steps and reminding us of who we are.
In recent years, I’ve had the chance to meet my biological family. I’ve learned that entrepreneurship runs throughout my lineage, and that I come from brilliant and creative people who have been pillars in the Black community. They have left and are leaving a beautiful legacy that I now carry forward. Discovering their stories has been both grounding and affirming. It feels as though they have been with me all along, guiding my own path as an entrepreneur, whispering encouragement as I build Exhale and dream of the legacy I want to leave behind.
And yet, as I hold these personal connections, I cannot ignore the reality facing Black women today. In the last three months alone, approximately 300,000 Black women have either left or been forced out of the workforce, a sobering indicator of broader instability. Meanwhile, the unemployment rate for Black women rose to 6.3% in July 2025, nearly double the rate for white women and significantly higher than the national average of around 4.2%. These are not just numbers. They represent our mothers, sisters, and friends. They are us. Our community who are experiencing upheaval in a time when our presence is more vital than ever.
According to The Highland Project, 45% of Black women voters say their mental health has gotten worse over the past year, citing the current state of the country and the rising cost of living among the top stressors. These statistics underscore that our collective breath and healing work are not optional. They are essential.
When we pause to breathe with awareness, we do more than calm our nervous systems. We tap into the roots that hold us steady, both in this present moment and in the lineage that stretches back generations. Taking time to honor our ancestors, known and unknown, is a powerful ritual. It is a reminder that we are never alone in our striving, our healing, or our becoming.
This is the work of our movement at Exhale: to make space for Black women to breathe, heal, and reclaim our well-being, especially in times like this.
So today, I invite you to pause. Take a breath. Root into yourself, into the strength of your ancestors, and into the collective power of a movement that says our well-being is not optional. It is essential.
Our breath is more than survival. It is a sacred thread that roots us in the present and ties us to the enduring love of those who walked before us.
