A Place That Feels Like Freedom
Martha’s Vineyard in August feels like freedom—because it feels safe.
It’s a place our elders collectively worked hard to establish and keep alive. A place where we abandon the need to hustle and survive for opportunities to celebrate, learn, and rest.
It’s where we can let our hair down and catch our breath before facing the rest of the year. Where we can fill our cup with love, trust, laughter, and kinship—very human, very simple things, but treasures all the same.
I came to the Vineyard imagining a solo quest. Driven by the anticipation of seeing those I love and care about—not perfect, but persistent. Excited to rest again.
But once I touched the island, the desire for comfort dissolved into the desire to expand—to shift from seeking connection for its own sake, to designing relationships that support the long-term health of the vision, the team, and the future we’re shaping.
The clarity I was seeking didn’t come from sitting in solitude, but from opening myself to sisterhood. From leaning into the kind of community and experiences that will soften me as a woman, and prepare me for the next chapter of life:
My first sunrise on the boardwalk, where I realized freedom isn’t just about protecting safe space, but also taking responsibility for its growth. Safe spaces expand when we invite other women to see us and to be seen—fully, authentically.
A spark of curiosity on a porch in Oak Bluffs, where a simple question to two sisters about naming their vacation home unfolded into a conversation about legacy, land, and the deep roots of the Black community in Martha’s Vineyard—a casual moment that revealed something sacred.
The 7AM Polar Bear Plunge, led by a woman who invited us to mark the moment—to rise, release, and reclaim. What began as a cold shock became a ritual of renewal. Together, we waded into the ocean, carrying the weight of whatever we were ready to leave behind—and came out lighter, more whole.
I’ve learned that making decisions for yourself doesn’t have to mean making them by yourself. There is strength in allowing others to walk with you. There is clarity in letting community sharpen your vision.
I left the Vineyard with the reminder that leadership isn’t about holding it all alone. It’s about creating and returning to spaces where freedom, safety, and belonging can live—together.
When we feel safe, we feel free. And when we feel free, we dream bigger, build bolder, and move forward with more joy than fear.
Where’s your place that feels like freedom?
