Call me crazy.But I thought we were past some things.You know — basic rights stuff, like healthcare for all, voting rights without chaos. The idea that every American deserves life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness without governmental interference.

Apparently, that’s so 2008.

This week in the year 2025, two things got under my skin in the best and worst ways. First, my guilty pleasure: Love Island. I didn’t watch the show live, but caught up and got hooked by you’re your TikTok and Twitter recaps. I got swept up like half the internet by the stunning couple, Nic and Olandria. Interracial, magnetic, and misunderstood — especially Olandria, a gorgeous dark-skinned woman whose elegance and composure were somehow seen as… too much.

Let’s be clear. She wasn’t mean. She wasn’t cold. She was poised. Tender but guarded. Stylish but composed, and one of the best-dressed contestants this season. Yet on these platform were hot-takes, threads flooded with critiques. She was too reserved. Not fun enough. Not “approachable.” Comparing and contrasting, it became clear that her darker skin shaped how some of the audience expected her to behave or willfully misinterpreted how she acted.

Yes in 2025, dark skin can still means aggressive. Hood. Strong and never soft. Olandia isn’t supposed to be the dream girl.

Lighter-skinned contestants, equally quiet or equally assertive, weren’t held to the same standard. Colorism still has reach.

Colorism is not new. Slavery institutionalized a caste system where skin tone dictated labor, survival, and status. Lighter-skinned people, whether Indigenous, biracial, or descended from colonizers, were often placed in “preferable” conditions. This twisted logic follows us through Reconstruction, through Jim Crow, through beauty pageants, and now reality TV.

When I was researching Island Queen and came across the remarkable life of Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, a formerly enslaved woman who owned businesses across the West Indies and had a documented affair with a prince of England, I assumed she must’ve been biracial and fair-skinned — it’s what I’d been conditioned to expect with such access, desirability, and favoritism.

But no.

Dorothy was dark-skinned, described as striking, admired by politicians, desired by colonial men. Her achievements should be taught in school — and yet she’s barely remembered. One wonders if we would know her name if her skin were lighter like Elizabeth Dido Belle or her life more scripted and tragic like Sally Hemmings.

Dorothy Kirwan Thomas was the exception, not the rule, in a world that often refuses to associate darkness with beauty or softness or wealth.

That’s why I paused and shared the recent New York Times article celebrating The Gilded Age on HBO. The series is well done and its portrayal of Black high society in the 1880s is masterful.

The article features Phylicia Rashad, Audra McDonald, and Denée Benton discussing the dual burden of classism and colorism.

As Denée speaks about working on the show: “We have an opportunity to show something that’s never been onscreen. We have to widen this lens.”

Phylicia says, “The concerns of an era might be different, but people are still people.”

Audra adds, “But where we are right now, some of them are quite similar.”

Colorism didn’t disappear with integration. I know that because I went to school in the “colorblind” North and still experienced the paper bag test, a cruel whisper from Jim Crow, it was obvious.

Colorism didn’t vanish when we elected a Black president.

It’s why books like The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett struck such a nerve in 2020. Set in the fictional town of Mallard, it shows families fracturing under the pressure to assimilate and even pass.

I return to this quote from Sonali Dev’s 2019 novel, Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors — a love story between a darker-skinned Rawandan Anglo-Indian chef and a lighter-skinned Indian-American neurosurgeon:

“The syntax of prejudice—threaded into conversation with the perfect pauses and facial expressions—was like ciphers and spy codes. The meaning clear to those it was meant for. To everyone else, it was harmless scribbles. Easy enough to deny.”

Denying the lingering effects of colorism is sad. It hides in tone and tone policing. In the silence of those who don’t speak up or question biases. It can even come down to who we’re allowed to root for.

So no, we haven’t solved colorism, classism, or the big R word.

Yet there’s hope in storytelling.

I applaud The Gilded Age for giving us something new for TV, portraying Black affluence in the 1800s with elegance, and power and nuance.

And to my fellow writers: I say don’t stop. The market may shift. Budgets may tighten. But keep telling stories that challenge the hierarchy and bias. Keep writing histories that include all aspects of humanity now and in the past.

Readers? Please lock in.Buy the books.Request them at libraries.Share titles that stir you.

All of us together can make this place a better world.

Books mentioned in this podcast as well as others to spotlight a world-wide perspective are:

The Vanishing Half by Brit BennettTwo light-skinned Black twin sisters choose vastly different paths—one passing as white—and their family’s fate reveals the generational scars of colorism and identity.

Pride, Prejudice, and Other Flavors by Sonali DevA modern retelling of Austen’s classic featuring an Indian-American neurosurgeon and a darker-skinned chef navigating love, family pressure, and implicit bias, including colorism.

Dominicana by Angie Cruz A young Dominican girl is married off and brought to the U.S., navigating racism, patriarchy, and internalized colorism from her community and family.

The House of the Spirits by Isabel AllendeSpanning generations, this magical realist novel touches on colonialism, whiteness, and how transparent skin grants privilege and protection in postcolonial Chilean society.

The Bluest Eye by Toni MorrisonA dark-skinned Black girl internalizes society’s hatred and longs for blue eyes, believing they will make her loved and beautiful in a world shaped by colorism and racism.

Island Queen by Vanessa RileyBased on the real life of Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, this novel tells the epic story of a formerly enslaved woman who becomes a wealthy entrepreneur in the West Indies while confronting race, class, and beauty politics.

This week, I’m highlighting Virgina Highlands Bookstore through their website and Bookshop.org

We are at the 6-month point. January 13th will be here before we know it. Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Let’s keep growing and building together—like, subscribe, and share. Please stay connected to Write of Passage.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Originally posted 2025-07-15 13:10:00.

Take a moment and sit with this:

A country can be both powerful and fragile at the same time.

We can be proud—and still be in the wrong.

And right now, we’re standing in the middle of a reckoning.

The question isn’t why anymore… It’s what we do next.

There’s a hard truth we don’t want to acknowledge. We are here because of apathy, arrogance, and anger.

And three things can be true at once.

First, the reckoning—the judgment on America—can be deserved. Our standing in the world, the fall from once being revered to a joke, is deserved. Our actions have impacted for the worse, the world economy.

Second, there are a lot of people getting caught in the gears of that reckoning.

And third, plain and simple, ain’t nobody got time for this kind of suffering.

So the real questions of why we are here are over. It’s time to focus on how we set things right.

I’m not here to say “I told you so.” That’s easy, and it doesn’t solve anything. But I do want to ground us in a quick lesson.

People died fighting for civil rights. Not centuries ago—less than seventy years. There are people caught in pictures screaming at little children, threatening violence because a child wants an education. Less than seventy years, they can still be alive. Their children who grew up with hate are still here, still carrying the hate. But now they are screamers, politicians, footstools in the patriarchy. Heck, they might be leading it.

The Voting Rights Act passed in 1965. So let’s round up, seventy years is supposed to make up for 400 years of slavery?

According to the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) at least 4,400 lynchings of Black Americans occurred between 1877 and 1950.

The Southern Poverty Law Center and other National Archives, Civil Rights Movement records, estimate 60+ people were killed in direct civil rights–related violence between 1960 and 1965.

We know the famous names:

Medgar Evers (1963)

Herbert Lee (1961)

James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner (1964)

Jimmie Lee Jackson (1965)

Viola Liuzzo (1965)

Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley

They were between 11 and 14 years old, killed in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing.

When I research and one of those photos comes up, you know the ones with hordes of adults screaming and wishing harm on babies like Ruby Bridges.

I see eyes glazed over with hate, mouths open, screaming curse words, and words at children integrating schools. But I’m supposed to believe that these hateful people’s children and grandchildren miraculously have no more prejudice…you know, the prejudice that forced us to legislate decency and morality.

That these people in my neighborhood, near my child and other brown and Black children, have evolved.

The past isn’t gone. It’s merely buried. When no one is watching, hate has a way of rising back up.

Far too many of us got comfortable. We lived in neighborhoods that looked integrated on the surface. We worshipped in spaces where anyone could walk in. We shopped, ate, worked, and convinced ourselves that access meant equity—that if you were qualified, you could get the job; if you worked hard, you’d be fine.

That comfort made us forget the stakes.

We can’t be forgetful when others are already standing in unemployment lines. Some are choosing between medicine and groceries. Others were already relying on food banks just to make it through the week.

And now, more people are feeling that edge. Seventeen thousand people just lost their job as jet fuel prices spike. We had an economy that, for a moment, felt like it was rebounding—strong, even enviable. But instability, policy choices, and global tensions have brought us to a place where the cost of living is climbing fast. Safety nets are thinning. Healthcare is slipping out of reach for far too many.

There’s a widening gap between those who are managing and those who are barely holding on.

Yes—if you have a roof over your head, a working car, food in your fridge—you’re not doing so badly.

But that’s not the whole picture. It can’t be. Some folks are:

One paycheck away. One emergency away. One layoff away from disaster.

If you’re listening to this essay—on a podcast app, on Substack, anywhere—you have a degree of privilege.

Use that guilt. Bear our responsibility in this mess.

We were, at one point, moving—slowly, imperfectly—toward a more perfect union.

Then fear crept in.

Fear that equality meant loss. Fear that if everyone has a seat at the table, some people wouldn’t feel special anymore. And that fear dressed itself up in many forms—sexism, misogyny, exclusion, resentment, and yes, good old-fashioned racism.

You can’t put that genie back in the bottle. There’s no Superman coming to spin the world backward so we undo everything and make better choices.

This is the burden—and the beauty—of a fragile democracy.

We get to choose. Even when we choose poorly.

So now we’re here, in this moment, asking ourselves:

What else are we willing to lose?

How much more will be stripped away before we pay attention?

I am afraid. More afraid than angry. This is a new place for me. And I suppose for you too.

Since three things can be true at once, then we can do three things at once:

We can acknowledge the reckoning.

We can care for the people caught in it.

And we can decide, collectively, that we don’t have time to sit around and take things like voting for granted… that is, while we still can.

This week’s book list features books to help us process:

How to Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi — Explains how neutrality and “not racist” thinking fuel systemic harm.

Walking with the Wind by John Lewis — A firsthand account of the Civil Rights Movement that reminds us how recent—and costly—those gains were.

Caste: The Origins of

Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson — Argues that America operates under an unspoken caste system, explaining why inequality persists despite progress.

And if you just want to raise a sword and cut to the truth, consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea, my latest release.

Or if you are in need of laughs and inclusivity, preorder or review at NetGalley, a Deal at Dawn. Step into a cliffhanger, where the Duke of Torrance is dying to finally be a father to his daughter but he must deal her with mother, the woman who humbled him and broke his heart.

All these books from The A Small Place Bookshop. They still have a few signed copies of Fire Sword and Sea.

You can also try one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in the trenches with me.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.

Hey. Let’s keep rising and creating together. That’s the truth, I need you. Like, share, subscribe, and stay connected to Write of Passage.

Thank you for being here.

I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

We’ve all been worrying—rightfully—about AI stealing the work of artists and authors. That’s a valid and growing concern. In March of this year, I found out that Meta’s engine, according to The Atlantic, scraped 27 of my 28 published books.

The only reason it didn’t get March’s release A Wager at Midnight was because it hadn’t hit the shelves yet. Theft in broad daylight.

But this goes deeper than just copyright violations. We’re seeing something more insidious: the rise of AI-generated scams, fakery, and lies. And I’m not talking about science fiction. I’m talking about now.

On platforms like TikTok and X, faked videos are being created and/or shared with shocking ease—videos that can ruin reputations, twist narratives, and even make the UK tabloid press bite and republish the lies for a wider international audience. I’ve seen articles run in The Daily Mail that pose lies as questions, which gives dodgy accountability while still spreading misinformation. It’s manipulation masquerading as curiosity. Yet many look at lying headlines and accept them as true.

A report by Upwind published in December says that 87% of Americans are worried about being scammed by AI. That is a lot of people. It’s a huge concern, especially when truth tellers are losing their jobs or seemingly capitulating because of fears of being sued, losing access, or targeted and harassed. The “other side” is not just lying but they are weaponizing the instruments that we are supposed to trust and inflicting consequences on anyone saying or writing something they disagree with.

The Big Beautiful Lies

I must say, the lies can be compelling. Let’s look at an easy topic, travel. I mean, who doesn’t want a travel guide? I buy them quite often for research on big cities or exotic locations.

According to Axios, AI-generated travel guides, self-help books, and even mathematics are popular to scam. Now I have to say—math is hard enough. Why are you going to use a robot to put up something that can hurt a kid’s education. And please don’t have my characters walking down the wrong streets.

Yet the boldness of the lying is getting worse. People are using AI to write books and then publish them under real authors’ names. Savannah Guthrie in 2024 was done so dirty. She wrote the book Mostly What God Does. Scammers using AI wrote workbooks, studies, and companion guides for her book and published them on Amazon under her name.

Kara Swisher, the tech maven faced it too: fake “biographies” about her own life showed up ahead of her memoir’s release, Burn Book, in 2024. Jane Friedman details on her blog her own horror story, where a scammer used AI to write Friedman-like books, and then published those books under Friedman’s name. And the proceeds went to the bots.

These AI scams confuse real readers. They have the potential to damage reputations and dilute the credibility of authors—an author’s brand can take decades to build.

Imagine what happens to a debut author whose idea has become popular on TikTok, getting beat to her book launch by an AI scam. And because debuts aren’t yet industry names, they lose the credibility game.

I used to think that AI scams were going to catch my grandma or folks not paying attention. Nope. AI is giving thieves the ability to put together more convincing emails and websites to ensnare everyone. It’s not just grandma and Social Security, or the foreign soldiers needing help to get a fortune out of a war zone—we’re talking sophisticated scams that use AI to reconstruct your habits. They may be scanning emails or even listening to conversations through AI upgrades on things that shouldn’t have AI at all.

This is phishing on a whole new level. And we’re all set up to be scammed. It’s no longer going to be easy to tell a scam by bad grammar, doxing, or fraudulent websites. AI is making everything harder to detect. AI should be used to make things better, but in the hands of bots and scammers it is a nightmare.

No Free Rides or Shades

I recently did a small brand deal for gummy vitamins. I choked on a cornflake as a kid—swallowing is hard. And please don’t even think of me taking anything that’s a horse pill. Anyway, now I’m getting little offers. Most of the offers that don’t come from a collaborator’s platform are probably scams. So there are no free sunglasses.

How do we protect ourselves?

You can’t trust your eyes anymore. Nor your ears—AI can clone a voice. It can fake a face. It can forge a whole book.

But you can protect yourself:

* Verify Every Fact – Before you repeat or share get several sources. I want to say reputable, but that’s hard to define right now.

* Check Sources That Don’t Agree With You – Find several and verify dates, times, etc. If they match, you have a fact. If they don’t, you have a lie, a manipulation, or someone’s opinion.

* Search Smart – Check authors’ websites, join their newsletter, and follow creatives on their official accounts before buying.

* Report Scams – Don’t stay silent. Amazon, TikTok, and the FTC need to hear from us.

* Don’t Be Ashamed – If you got scammed, tell someone. Put it on blast. Be someone else’s keeper.

* Check the FTC’s Resources – The Federal Trade Commission is watching this space. The rules are there and often include ways of reporting issues.

We are in an era where you can no longer believe your lying eyes. The truth takes longer to verify, and the fakers are only getting smarter.

Artists, writers, creators: your work is valuable. But we must fight smarter and speak louder to help our readers and audiences find the truth. This is going to be a long battle, but we must not be silent. We can never let up the fight. Be vigilant while being creative.

Books to bring awareness of the problem are:

Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy by Cathy O’Neil

A sharp critique of how algorithms can be biased, dangerous, and largely invisible. It explains how AI systems make life-and-death decisions, often with no accountability.

The Coming Wave: AI, Power, and Our Future

by Mustafa Suleyman

This book explores how fast-moving technologies—especially AI—can outpace regulation and become tools for manipulation, chaos, and control. It’s a smart, accessible read on the dangers ahead.

And of course lets aid:

Burn Book by Kara Swisher

A sharp, insider memoir exposing the rise of Silicon Valley’s power players and how tech’s promises turned into threats to truth, privacy, and democracy.

Mostly What God Does by Savannah Guthrie

A heartfelt collection of reflections on faith, love, and grace, offering spiritual encouragement grounded in everyday life.

Check out Jane Friedman’s Website for her latest books.

This week, I’m highlighting Park Books through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. Paid Subscribers Your Next Lesson on Build-A-Better-Character is coming this week.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Let’s keep growing and building together—like, subscribe, and share. Please stay connected to Write of Passage.

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Originally posted 2025-07-08 13:10:00.

What happens when you can’t trust your own eyes?

In a world of deepfakes and media spin—from Meghan, Duchess of Sussex to Megan Thee Stallion to the White House Correspondents Dinner—the real question isn’t what’s true… it’s why we don’t care anymore.

We are living in a moment when the old question—what is truth? —is being asked again.—has become the question of the moment. Aren’t you tired of relative half-truths?

In an era defined by dishonest politicians, fragmented media ecosystems, and an internet that resembles a lawless western, the ability to trust what we see and hear is gone. The phrase “who are you going to believe, me or your lying eyes?”—popularized in Duck Soup—has shifted from comedy into cultural diagnosis. It was satire, people. Now it feels like instruction.

At the center of this crisis is the mistrust of visual evidence itself. A recent controversy involving Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, illustrates the problem. A report from The Daily Beast, a source I relied upon in the 2010s, included a video clip on April 23, 2026, that critics argue appeared slowed down or altered to make the Duchess seem robotic—supporting a narrative that she, a woman of color, a Black woman, is difficult to work with. Observers suggested the footage has been misleadingly edited or even AI-manipulated.

This incident is not isolated; it exists within a broader pattern of fabricated or distorted media. The point is not merely whether a clip was altered, but how easily perception can be engineered. Biased people want angry or disillusioned eyeballs.

More manipulation is on the way, fueled by the rapid rise of deepfake technology. According to data from the Global Cyber Alliance and others, the number of deepfake files online is projected to have grown from 500,000 in 2023 to 8 million by the end of 2025—that’s an annual increase of 900%.

The average American now encounters approximately 2.6 deepfakes per day, with younger adults seeing even more. And our human ability to detect these falsehoods is surprisingly low: studies show our ability to detect deepfakes is below 25%, which is worse than flipping a coin.

The consequences extend beyond embarrassment or celebrity gossip. Deepfake-driven fraud caused an estimated $547 million in losses in just the first half of 2025, and AI-enabled fraud could reach $40 billion in the United States by 2027. Our midterm elections are in trouble. Seventy-eight deepfake election manipulations were discovered in 2024 alone. This is a growing threat to democratic processes.

Yet, if this past weekend is any indication, we have a worse threat: apathy. Over the weekend of April 25–26, 2026, two major events unfolded: a security incident at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner and the highly publicized breakup between Megan Thee Stallion and Klay Thompson. The former, involving a reported shooting and evacuation of the president, should have dominated national concern. Instead, the latter—a celebrity breakup fueled by allegations of infidelity—captured social media attention, with search interest spiking over 800%. Lord knows I have seen as many think-pieces on male-female relationships as I’ve seen screeds saying the correspondents’ dinner was fake.

It is a shame that political events are now filtered through suspicion, conspiracy, and fatigue. When reports emerged of a potential assassination attempt, many didn’t ask what happened but whether the attack was staged. Questions about security lapses—how an armed individual could approach so closely—become entangled with blatant distrust in institutions and others using the event to get a ballroom built. Cynicism ran rampant.

Cynicism and para-social relationships make celebrity narratives feel more immediate, and perhaps more “real.” But these narratives take hold by performance and perception.

In Lyin’ Eyes by the Eagles, we were told to: “You can’t hide your lyin’ eyes.” In 2000, the denial anthem “It Wasn’t Me” by Shaggy fed the growing, complicit beast.

“Never admit to a word when she say

And if she claim, ah, you tell her, “Baby, no way”…

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)

Saw me kissin’ on the sofa (It wasn’t me)

I even had her in the shower (It wasn’t me)

She even caught me on camera (It wasn’t me)…”

The deeper issue is not simply that misinformation exists, but that our collective response is to believe the lies or not care about what’s right or wrong, and to spread the wrong.

We no longer fully trust our eyes.

But we also lack the will to interrogate what we see. Facts have become negotiable, subject to “both-sides” framing that equates evidence with opinion and treats the right as equally wrong. This erosion of journalistic standards undermines personal judgment and public discourse.

Honesty, we must begin at the top.

Political leaders who lie and distort reality set the tone for our society.

When “truth” becomes a strategic tool rather than a shared foundation, citizens are left to believe everyone is lying. And soon we don’t care to believe differently.

We are fragmented.

We are divided.

So we are that much easier to manipulate.

In a world where images and narratives can be fabricated, what will spur us to try to discern the truth? It won’t be technology alone that saves us. Somehow, we have to get back to being better angels and our brothers and sisters’ keepers.

That requires a renewed commitment to finding the truth. Until we do, we’ll settle for the least offensive lies we can stomach.

We must do better. We must relearn how to care about the things that are supposed to matter.

This week’s book list includes:

Deepfakes by Nina Schick. A clear, urgent look at how AI-generated media is reshaping truth, power, and global politics.

Trust No One: Inside the World of Deepfakes by Michael Grothaus. An inside exploration of how deepfakes work and why they pose a serious threat to identity and reality.

True or False: A CIA Analyst’s Guide to Spotting Fake News by Cindy L. Otis. A practical guide to identifying misinformation and thinking critically about what you see online.

And if you just want to raise a sword and cut to the truth, consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea, my latest release, and all these books from The FoxTale Book Shoppe. They still have a few signed copies of Fire Sword and Sea.

You can also try one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in the trenches with me.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.

Hey. Let’s keep rising and creating together. That’s the truth, I need you. Like, share, subscribe, and stay connected to Write of Passage.

Thank you for being here. Thank you to everyone who came out to Conyers or Detroit!

I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Flying home from the Historical Novel Society conference, I learned a lesson in indoctrination. I’m on a fast-moving deadline for a special project, but I had to go. HNS holds a special place for me. My very first HNS conference changed the trajectory of my life.

Before attending in 2019, I published lovely Regency romances. Sweet, comforting, polite novels—educating the world through fun, nonthreatening, history-filled reads.

But HNS cracked something open. Meeting a tribe of fellow history nerds and selling the book I never thought I’d sell—Island Queen, the biographical fiction about Dorothy Kirwan Thomas, one of the richest Black women in the Georgian world, a woman who bought her freedom and defies every rule and obstacle to live freely—that gave me the courage to keep telling stories that tug at my heart and mind.

Being free to create is a gift. One that’s hard to achieve. Black and brown creators, and women creators, have been indoctrinated, fed rules in the simplest of terms that challenge our freedom. Rules such as:

* That more ethnic the cover, the more it can impact book sales—or determine where a book gets shelved.

* That a pen name that sounds like a man’s carries more heft.

* That “historical accuracy” will be weaponized to silence you if you make one mistake.

* That if you fail, your failure will become the reason the next person who looks like you gets turned away.

You’ll never know how much that last one haunted me. How it still probably drives me to go the extra mile.

And I share all this to say: we’ve all been indoctrinated by our circumstances.

Writers learn quickly by how we’ve been treated—and how we’ve seen others treated—in publishing. It’s hard to break the pattern. And it’s about logic. It’s 1 + 1 = 2 when one sees patterns repeating.

And you, the listener—you’ve been indoctrinated.

Certain patterns, behaviors, even thoughts have been ingrained through images and repetition. This was made clear to me on my flight home.

Flying back from Vegas, Atlanta’s weather did not cooperate. Several delays and cancellations later, I was finally on my way but rerouted through Minneapolis. I’d arrived in Atlanta with just a four-hour delay and a bump up to first class. All was good.

But I wasn’t prepared for the real lesson I’d take from that flight.

An older gentleman sat beside me. The moment we took off, he flicked on his monitor and tuned into the news. He looked like a typical executive—loafers, golf watch, faint aftershave. He popped in his headphones, stared at the screen, and then drifted off to sleep.

I was writing but I couldn’t help watching. Something about flickering images in my periphery always pulls me in. For ten minutes, I stared at his monitor. No sound—just headlines and smiling faces discussing stories that disturbed me.

Ice raids with masked men capturing women on the street. The host smiled.Florida detention camps pop onto the screen. The smiling host makes it appear to be a pitch for a Disney vacation.

And my neighbor slept. Peacefully. Whatever was being whispered in his ear lulled him into calm.

I sat there gobsmacked.

This is indoctrination.

Indoctrination is subtle, yet powerful.It’s not about shouting.It’s about repeating.It’s about phrasing.It’s about making you feel safe while you’re being lulled into believing counterintuitive things.

The TV’s formula was simple:

* Repeat the same emotionally charged themes again and again.

* Print aggressive words: sue, threaten, destroy, take back, fight for your children.

* Paint the other side as monsters trying to take away your rights—your autonomy, your voice, your values.

* Frame reasonable actions as extreme.

* Show flags. Cue nostalgia. Stir something primal.

* Smile while doing it.

And the man next to me? He slept. Fully content. The world whispering in his ear made sense. That’s when I understood the terrifying genius of it.

People aren’t being brainwashed. They’re being comforted—soothed by simple stories, a few buzzwords, and a familiar rhythm.

In this whispering world, empathy is suspect.Fairness? A threat.Truth? Conditional.

How else do you explain people cheering for a roofer—someone who rebuilt their home after a hurricane—being rounded up and sent to a detention camp being pictured as a theme park?

What happened to questioning things?When did we decide that cruelty is an acceptable solution?Why is it okay to sleep through someone else’s pain?

Be awake.

Don’t let anyone tell you you’re overreacting.You’re not a sucker for caring. You’re human.

And to my fellow protestors and change-makers: we can’t just fight with facts and five-point plans. Shame doesn’t move people. Complexity doesn’t sway them.

If your message makes them feel stupid, they’ll dig in and side with the whisperers.

So what can we do?

We make the stakes as clear as possible.

We must give up the five-dollar words.Because those words only land with the most liberal among us. And as Nicole Hannah-Jones wrote in her recent New York Times essay, How Trump Upended 60 Years of Civil Rights in Two Months, citing scholar Ian Haney López—the rapid decline in support for DEI came from liberals. Particularly white liberals. Those skeptical of diversity. Those sympathetic to complaints about “wokeness.”

It hurts. On so many levels. Who is actually an ally?We had the George Floyd awakening, the feel-good changes… and then people voted against their better angels—for cheap eggs all while rolling back the good changes.

It’s going to take me a while to believe in allyship again.

And the lack of big words hurts because I love big words. I love nuance. But I’d rather be heard than admired for my vocabulary. I’d rather reach the “gettable” than preach to the choir, a choir who might be full of whisperers.

So:Use simple language.Simple signs.Drop the jargon.Focus on why it matters to them.

And alas, poor Yorick—and Vanessa—we must keep it simple.

Maybe then we can re-indoctrinate the world to be good.For once.For all.

Books to help with framing the problem are:

Nice Racism by Robin DiAngelo

A follow-up to White Fragility, this dives deeper into how progressive people often unknowingly uphold systemic racism.

White Rage by Carol Anderson

A piercing explanation of how systemic racism reacts violently to Black advancement in America—through policy, education, and media.

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

Essential essays on the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and the power of being awake to oppression.

The 1619 Project: A New Origin Story by Nikole Hannah-Jones

This anthology reframes American history by placing the consequences of slavery and the contributions of Black Americans at the very center of the national narrative and reveals how deeply racial ideology—and indoctrination—are woven into the fabric in the U.S.

This week, I’m highlighting Malik Books through their website and Bookshop.org

Help me build momentum for Fire Sword and Sea—spread the word and preorder this disruptive narrative about female pirates in the 1600s. This sweeping saga releases January 13, 2026. The link on my website shows retailers large and small who have set up preorders for this title.

Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com under the podcast link in the About tab.

Let’s keep rising and creating together—like, subscribe, and share. Please stay connected to Write of Passage.”

Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you’ll come again. This is Vanessa Riley

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe

Originally posted 2025-07-01 13:10:00.

As a nerd, I love patterns. I’m trained to find patterns. But today there is one I don’t want to see. There’s a pattern—and it is costing Black women their lives. Not just in the streets, but in their homes… in their relationships… even in childbirth.

This is a pattern we can no longer pretend we don’t see.

There is a pattern emerging—no, not emerging, persisting—and it is costing Black women their lives.

We cannot keep calling these stories “isolated incidents.” We cannot keep lowering our voices when the truth demands a roar. What we are witnessing is a crisis: intimate partner violence against Black women, compounded by a maternal health system that too often fails them at their most vulnerable. Love should not be lethal. Pregnancy should not be a death sentence. And yet, for far too many Black women, both are becoming dangerous terrain.

In April 2026 alone, we’ve lost:

• Dr. Cerina Wanzer Fairfax, a 49-year-old dentist and mother, killed on April 16 by her estranged husband in an apparent murder-suicide.

• Nancy Metayer Bowen, Vice Mayor of Coral Springs, found dead on April 1; her husband was charged with premeditated murder.

• Pastor Tammy McCollum, 58, killed on April 6 in her North Carolina home by her husband.

• Ashly “Ashlee Jenae” Robinson, 31, a content creator who died under suspicious circumstances on April 9 while traveling with her fiancé after documented domestic conflict.

• Qualeshia “Saditty” Barnes, 36, a pregnant Detroit rapper, shot and killed in Atlanta on April 8, reportedly by her boyfriend.

• Davonta Curtis, 31, a Black trans woman beaten to death on April 8 by her boyfriend.

• Barbara Deer, 51, an educator killed on April 15 in a murder-suicide.

• Ashanti Allen, 23, eight months pregnant, murdered before she could bring life into the world.

Say their names. Hold them in your mouth. Refuse to let their stories be reduced to footnotes beneath the names of the men who killed them.

Because that is what often happens—we learn more about the killers than the women whose lives were stolen.

This is not a coincidence. This is not rare. This is systemic, cultural, and deeply rooted.

According to the Institute for Women’s Policy Research, more than 40% of Black women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime, compared to 31.5% of women overall. The National Center for Victims of Crime reports that 53.8% of Black women experience psychological abuse, and 41.2% experience physical abuse. These are not small numbers. These are not anomalies. These are patterns.

Let me repeat: 32% of all women experience domestic violence. 40% of all Black women experience this violence. This should not be.

Violence against women begins early.

Teen dating violence already lays the groundwork. Data from Basile et al. (2020) shows that about 8% of high school students experience physical dating violence, with girls disproportionately affected—9% of girls versus 7% of boys. Sexual violence is even more skewed: 13% of girls compared to 4% of boys. These are children learning, too soon, that love can hurt.

Then comes adulthood. Then comes partnership. Then, for many, comes pregnancy.

And pregnancy—what should be a sacred, supported, protected time—becomes one of the most dangerous periods in a Black woman’s life.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reports that in 2023, Black women experienced 50.3 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births, compared to 14.5 for White women. That is more than three times higher. The Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF) confirms this disparity persists across income and education levels. This is not about individual choices. This is about systemic failure.

Even more devastating: over 80% of pregnancy-related deaths are preventable.

Preventable.

Let that word sit with you.

Black women are dying not because we don’t know how to save them—but because we are not saving them.

Structural racism, provider bias, unequal access to care, and the chronic stress of navigating a world that devalues Black womanhood all contribute. Black women are more likely to be ignored when they report symptoms, more likely to have their pain dismissed, and more likely to receive delayed or inadequate care.

When you layer that on top of intimate partner violence, the risk multiplies.

What is this pattern telling Black women?

Work. Survive. Endure. But do not expect to be protected. Do not expect to be safe in love. Do not expect to be heard in pain.

Is that the message?

Because if it is, then we must reject it—loudly, collectively, and without apology.

I am one of the lucky ones.

I have a loving husband. I was supported. When complications arose during my pregnancy—when my daughter Ellen’s heart rate dropped in half with every push—my doctors and nurses listened. They acted. They ordered an emergency C-section. They saved her life. They saved mine.

My daughter is alive and thriving today because I was heard.

But I should not be the exception.

My story should not sound miraculous. It should sound standard.

Advocacy should not be a privilege. Quality care should not be a lottery. Survival should not depend on luck.

And safety—safety in our homes, in our relationships, in our bodies—should never be negotiable.

On that X platform—yes, I haven’t found a way to quit yet—I saw a post by Bishop Talbert Swan. He quoted Malcolm X, who said, “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman.”

Then he had a call to arms:

That truth still echoes today.

We cannot protest violence in the streets and excuse it in our homes.

We cannot call out injustice from systems and ignore harm within our communities.

We cannot demand accountability from others and remain silent among ourselves.

He said Black men must hold other Black men accountable. I agree. I can check on my husband, brothers, and nephews and make sure they are in good headspaces, and, as much as I can, make sure they are in healthy relationships. I need everyone else to do the same.

We need to be our brothers’ keepers. But we also need to be our sisters’ refuge. When she is in trouble, we need to be safe spaces. We need to help advocate in those moments when she is weak and vulnerable.

Our love and care should not be in whispers—not one way in public and absent behind closed doors. If you need help, get it. Call 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN. These are 24/7 resources for help.

I spoke with multi-published romance author Jacquelin Thomas who recently completed her Master’s-level coursework in Clinical Mental Health Counseling for advice for my audience, she said, “In moments of domestic violence crisis, the priority is safety—not resolution. A safety plan should be simple, practical, and personalized. It should include identifying a safe place to go in an emergency, having a list of trusted people to contact, and keeping important items ready (such as ID, medications, keys, a prepaid cell phone, and cash).” She also said to plead with my audience, to prioritize immediate safety.

Click here for a A Safety Plan.

Save your life, the life of your children or spouse—leave.

Please don’t care about image. This is about lives.

The violence, the lack of care—it is a symptom of patriarchy. It’s control and entitlement.

Don’t let anything keep you from getting help. Protecting women is not optional. Protecting Black women, children, and babies is not negotiable.

If we fail to confront this—honestly, boldly, and without deflection—then we are guilty. We should not be the ones writing tweets saying we wished we had done more.

To all those touched by domestic violence or the lack of maternal care, I offer you prayers and wishes for peace.

We have less than two weeks left in April. Let’s not have more names to say. But let’s keep the ones who have fallen victim in our thoughts., in our prayers, on our lips, and please:

Hold abusers accountable—no matter who they are.

Send grace and love to your Black sisters.

Our survival should not be luck.

Being Black should not require survival against the odds. Being a woman should not increase the risk I endure because I chose love. Survival should simply require the right to breathe.

This week’s book list includes:

Killing the Black Body: Race, Reproduction, and the Meaning of Liberty by Dorothy Roberts Essential reading on how systems have historically controlled and endangered Black women’s bodies.

Rising Strong— Brené Brown Helps unpack silence and transforms the way we live, love, parent, and lead.

Prophetic Fire: Poetic Litanies of Justice and Liberation by Bishop Talbert Swan is a blend of poetry and activism.

The Housemaid by Freida McFadden is a psychological thriller involving manipulation, control, and hidden abuse in a domestic setting. As the Guardian says, these kinds of thrillers are popular for exposing how violence can hide behind “perfect homes.”

Any book by Jacquelin Thomas but try Samson. Samson is about a man who’s lost his way finding his way back. I am so proud of madame counselor. You can find Jacquelin on Therapy Finder. It’s not often you can get help from an author hero.

And if you just want to raise a sword and slay the dragons, consider purchasing Fire Sword and Sea, my latest release and all these books from The Black Pearl Bookstore. They still have a few signed copies of Fire Sword and Sea.

You can also try one of my partners in the fight, bookstores large and small, who are in the trenches with me.

You can find my notes on Substack or on my website, VanessaRiley.com, under the podcast link in the About tab.

Enjoying these essays? Go ahead and like this episode, share, and subscribe to Write of Passage so you never miss a moment.

Thank you for being here.

I want you to come again. This is Vanessa Riley.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe