107 Days and a Conversation I’m Still Sitting With

I’m grateful for friends who remind you to take note of your life.

Back in January, I moderated a stop on the 107 Days Book Tour with Kamala Harris. I shared pieces of it on Instagram and YouTube, but I hadn’t written about it until my friend Kim told me this moment needed to live here too.

She was right.

I’ve been sitting with what that experience meant ever since.

I understood the weight of it long before I walked onto the stage at the Orpheum.

Not in a way that made me freeze, but in a way that made me present. I knew my role, and I knew I wanted to do it well.

Preparation mattered, but I didn’t want to overdo it. In a room full of Memphians, anything too rehearsed would have fallen flat. I trusted my instincts, my voice, and the work I’ve already done to get me there.

There’s a difference between being ready and trying to prove that you’re ready. I was clear about what I was there to do: be a vessel and a voice for the city of Memphis in conversation with one of the most influential voices in today’s political and social climate.

I knew my questions needed to connect to her book, but more than that, they needed to serve the people in the room.

I wanted her answers to offer something useful. Something people could hold onto. Something that gave direction, confidence, and a sense of possibility.

I was thinking about the decision-makers in the room. I was thinking about the people who have felt powerless. I was thinking about how a conversation like this could help move a city forward.

The day itself felt calm.

I spent some time preparing with my best friend, but I also gave myself space to take it all in. Moments like that don’t come around every day, and I wanted to be present for it.

But, one thing I knew I was going to get right? My look! Or should I say LEWK!

My one goal was simple: if everything else went left, at least people could say, “She looked TF goodt!”

Right before it started, everything got quiet.

I took in the room. Tried to settle my nerves. Reminded myself that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Though getting to the stage was a bit chaotic, everything flowed once the conversation started. The magnitude of the moment faded, leaving a real exchange among people who wanted to be part of it. It was everything I could've hoped for.

I approached it the same way I approach everything I care about: I paid attention. I listened closely. I adjusted in real time. I wasn’t thinking about how I sounded. I was focused on how it felt. I wanted the audience to stay with us, to feel included, and to leave with something they could carry with them.

Once it was over, I couldn't just rush past the moment as if it were just another day. I took some time to sit with it.

What stayed with me most was the sense of alignment. I could see how everything I’ve been building connected to that moment. Nothing about it felt random. Nothing about it felt out of reach. It felt like a space I was destined to be in.

Experiences like that shift your perspective. They bring things closer. They make rooms you once saw as distant feel familiar. They expand what you believe is available to you. And once you feel that, you move differently.

I’m proud of how I showed up. And now, I’m paying attention to where that kind of alignment is leading me next.