I saw this post from my dear friend Drew Brown and it reminded me of something I have been working out for a while. Drew’s call to defund the white evangelical church is beyond timely.

You may be wondering, how do we achieve that Rose-Ingrid?

It’s simple. Mass exodus.

For too long the WEC has been allowed to exist, propagating whiteness, homophobia, misogyny, capitalism and colonialism. For too long many of us have stayed in these churches and organisations, allowing ourselves to be burdened and abused with very little to show for it.

Apologising for our pastors, friends, and leaders…

I have been doing a lot of inner work the past month or so. Being alone with my thoughts for days on end has opened up a lot within me and forced me to take a look at the dark parts of myself. There has been weeping, laughter, despair, joy and revelation. But overall, it’s been a catalyst for growth and a challenge to myself.

A challenge to take inventory.

A challenge to be brutally honest.

A challenge to be kind, gentle, loving.

A challenge to dare to believe that it won’t always be this way.

That shit is scary…

Ottawa, you’ve been on my heart and mind SO much lately.

Particularly as a place that formed me and that I invested so much of myself in over the years. As I continue to reflect on my 20s and the life I used to live, so many feelings and thoughts cross my heart and mind.

In one sense I am so thankful. For the people who have poured into me, knowingly and unknowingly. Sharing their life, art, hope, faith, resistance.

On the flip side, I mourn. I mourn for where I have dropped the ball, hurt, or missed the mark…

I sometimes wonder to myself, are there people out there praying for my soul? Like is someone going through their prayer list and when they get to my name they ask for god to bring me “home”? I kind of chuckle, because I used to be that girl. I still remember the poem I wrote years ago inspired by the story of the prodigal son. …

I often feel like Moses. Born and raised in a land that was not my own. With a people who were not my own. But I thought it was home. I thought they were mine. That’s what I was told. That was all I knew. Oh, the bliss of not knowing. Of walking through life taking it all at face value. This land, this nation, my schools, churches, my friends. We were all where we were meant to be. I was born in this multicultural mecca, this glorious mosaic. Give praise. I knew Christ. He loved me before I ever…

I’m poor.

I don’t remember a time in my life where I haven’t been. I don’t tend to talk about this much publicly but an actor friend of mine posted this article on FB the other day and I resonated so much with the premise of the article that I felt to say something about it. With all the talk of diversity these days it is important that we talk about how money and family impact access and success in the arts.

So back to my poverty. I don’t know if we were always poor. Both my parents are educated…

I remember one year, our pastor preached through the book of revelation for a whole year. Verse by verse, chapter by chapter, it was a long ass year lol. But it got me reflecting on the end and the life after a heckuva lot. I would regularly look at my roommate before parting for bed and say, “You think Jesus is coming back tonight?” She’d smile and say “Probably not.” and head to bed.

I’ll be honest I knew the answer to the question before I even asked it. But the hope, the possibility of escape was so reassuring. Even…

A little over a year ago Alton Sterling and Philando Castile were murdered by their local law enforcement. It broke my heart. I had trouble sleeping, being focused at work was practically impossible, I was crying all the time. It was a mess.

This was a turning point for me. I decided a few things:

• Alton would be the last time that I watched footage of a police shooting.
• That I would not partake in sharing violence porn in the name of “justice” (y’all know what’s happening. …