Have you ever felt like the walls were closing in — like doors were shutting and you couldn’t figure out why?

Today’s essay is about that season. The P & P season.

Persecution… and the paranoia that follows.

If you’ve ever wondered whether you deserved the storm you were in, this one is for you.

Persecution is an odd thing.

When everything starts going wrong, I feel myself shrink. I feel extremely small. Then every slight becomes magnified. A look. A tone. An unanswered email. And suddenly we’re dangerously close to the other P word — paranoia.

Your once-hopeful persona begins to fade. You start waiting for the next blow.

As a type A person, an engineer at heart, I look for cause and effect. I try to pinpoint the moment I FAed and FOed. While I search, I double down on hope, prayer, and producing. I can be one productive fool when I feel the walls closing in.

Still, I will lie awake trying to figure out what I did to deserve this.

And for the whole of last year, I couldn’t find the culprit. Did I cross a line? I would like to know. Did I cut somebody? Did I punch somebody really, really hard? Did I steal your chair or your parking space?

No.

I didn’t take anybody’s anything. Nope. I have my own.

In our twisted parasocial world, I will wonder if I liked the wrong posts, which now give you beef.

You can see how the paranoia can ramp. Deep down, I think many of us want to feel like we deserve this punishment. If I earned it, at least there’s logic. At least there’s control.

But the painful lesson I’ve had to grapple with is this:

Other than being overly eager and overly enthusiastic, I didn’t do anything wrong. Persecution is not necessarily earned.

Somewhere in the strange karma of the cosmic universe, you were chosen. And we all want to be chosen, right? But just not like this.

Congratulations, you were chosen to have doors slammed in your face. Sometimes your hand was still on the seal — so you get that extra sting. You were chosen to lose. You were chosen to have your integrity questioned. You were chosen to decide whether you were going to grow up, go high… or sink low. If you’ve contemplated being the villain and getting revenge, put it in the comments.

Now I’ve said before — and if you’ve read Fire Sword and Sea, you know — I believe in something called holy anger. There is a righteous anger. As a woman, I was urged to hold it in. To not sin in my anger. Yet, you can be angry and still be whole.

Nonetheless, that is the struggle. How do we keep ourselves together as we wait for relief?

I won’t pretend I’ve mastered survival. I haven’t. But I can say I didn’t curse anybody out — at least not where it could be recorded. I kept my cool for the most part. And when it came time to fight the battle, I didn’t yell. I let other people stand in the gap. I brought my hurt to those who could counsel me. I found fellowship. I found sisterhood. I saw rapiers lifted to defeat an armada.

I found in real time who was on your team, my crew, and who wasn’t.

My blessed crew found the time to encourage me, and gave me grace to rise above every point of contention. The P&P season, it’s very shocking. It’s hurtful.

When you find you’re in the P&P-season, hold yourself together even when you find traitors in your midst.

Persecution shows you who’s pulling for you. You find out who will show up, and the ones who have your back, even when it costs them something.

It’s priceless the perspective I now have. And let me say this clearly: persecution is momentary. It may feel fresh, but there is an expiration date.

Despite the pain, I am grateful for the experience.

Why?

Because it has made me more appreciative of those who advocate for me. It has made me more discerning about praise and opportunity. It has made me double down on what connects me most to you.

This podcast--I do this podcast every week because it allows me to express what I’m going through — not just as an author, but as a human being. And in putting a voice to thoughts and sharing, I feel closer to you. My books may move you, yes. But when I talk about the shared experiences we are all living through — just in different forms — something deeper happens.

We bond. We may commiserate. And maybe I’ve given voice to shared pain, shared struggle.

When I started writing weekly essays, I was angry at the world. Frankly, I was pissed off. Somewhere along the way, this became therapeutic. I often write about the past. This podcast became a bridge to our shared present. It’s our bridge. And this bridge energizes every facet of my heart and mind.

Every week, I look forward to this space, to sharing a revelation. A story. Something that made me angry. Something that brought me joy. Something that might shift your perspective.

Listen to me. I know some of you are hurting. Some of you are still in the storm. I wish you comfort and safety. When you get close to the other side of through, I want you to see the sunlight breaking through the clouds.

I want you to be amazing.

I want you to have clarity.

I want you to be stronger than before.

If you’re in the middle of the dark season, ask yourself:

1. What are the facts versus your interpretation?

2. What was said?

3. What was done?

4. What evidence do I truly have?

Document everything. Emotion fades. Records protect you.

5. Is this a “you” thing or a “we” thing?

6. Have you conferred with trusted people? Not just those who validate you — those who will challenge you gently.

7. Have I accounted for my own actions or inaction?

8. What is within my control?

You cannot control other people’s actions. You can control:

Your documentation.

Your tone.

Your boundaries.

Your next move.

If you’ve done all these steps and sufficient brooding, stop and rest. Don’t spend another minute trying to figure out someone else’s motivations. It’s at best a waste of time. At worst, it becomes a list of things that keep you angry, that shift someone else’s bad attitude, poor behavior, or evil onto you.

Who cares if the persecutor is motivated by fear, competition, bias, malice, or worse? If the response is from the system, higher-ups, etc., you will not change their minds.

A few more tips:

1. Seek grounded counsel. A mentor. A therapist. A minister. Legal advice if necessary. Someone who will steady you.

2. Protect your mental and strategic position.

3. Don’t react publicly in anger.

4. Don’t overshare emotionally. I’m not saying not sharing your feelings or even asking for help in these social streets. I’m saying leave all the emojis and expletives behind.

5. Don’t isolate.

6. Self-preservation is a strategy.

Direct confrontation doesn’t always work, especially in systemic situations. If a system knows you’ve identified it, it may escalate your demise — and by demise, I mean reputation, perception, and future references.

If persecution is real and systemic, you may need an exit plan.

A graceful exit is not defeat. It’s wisdom.

I will say this with my whole chest. My P-season is over. There are big moves ahead, and I can’t wait to share them with you.

So here we are. On this journey. Some of us are on the other side, some—finding a new normal. Some—waiting for daylight. Some—waiting for a breath with no pain, I see you and wish you love and endurance.

And I am thankful, my listeners.

Thankful for the clarity. Thankful for strength. And grateful that even in persecution, there is an end and a hope for a brighter tomorrow. Just know we are writing the future together.

This week’s booklist includes titles like:

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah — A moving WWII novel about two sisters resisting oppression and finding courage in impossible circumstances.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker — A classic of oppression and triumph, showing how relationships and community empower a woman to reclaim her life.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood — A powerful dystopian story about identity and agency under systemic control.

If I Ruled the World by Amy DuBois Barnett — A sharp, juicy coming-of-power novel about a young Black woman navigating misogynoir, ambition, and authenticity in 1990s New York media and hip-hop while fighting to keep her soul intact.

And reposting last week’s:

Keeper of Lost Children by Sadeqa Johnson

Set across postwar Germany and the United States, this novel explores abandoned mixed-race children, chosen family, and how love and responsibility can reshape lives history tried to discard.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

A novel that examines how love and trust are tested by systems that refuse to see certain Americans as fully human.

Fire Sword and Sea —

P&P – Persecution and Paranoid