Tending What Grows

Single mamahood, sacred work and why I’m asking for support for my writing.

This is one of those pieces I don’t write from theory or aspiration. I write it from the middle of my real, everyday life, still a little jet-lagged, still unpacking both suitcases and truths.

I never imagined I’d be the kind of mama who gets to learn alongside her child every day. But here I am, a single mama (three years as of yesterday!!) homeschooling my daughter, Dahlia, building a life that looks nothing like what I was taught to want.

We just returned from Australia, our first trip that wasn’t tied to work, obligations or survival. No conferences. No grants. No sponsored reason to be there. Just time. Just presence. Just learning a place by walking it, listening to it, letting it change us. Watching my child experience the world not as a classroom lesson but as something alive and relational reminded me why I choose this path, even when it’s hard.

Homeschooling isn’t easy. It requires patience, flexibility and a willingness to unlearn a lot of what we were told education is supposed to look like. But it is sacred work. I get to watch her eyes light up when something clicks. We move at the pace of curiosity instead of bells and deadlines. We learn through land, language, history and lived experience, not just memorized facts.

It’s the education I wish I had. One rooted in understanding life, liberation and our relationship to the world around us, not in systems designed to break our spirits or measure our worth by productivity.

That is why I write. Because real learning, the kind that changes us, doesn’t happen inside systems built on extraction. It happens in relationship, in storytelling and in the slow, honest work of paying attention.

But here’s the truth: everything costs more right now. Food. Housing. Basic living. Even the work that nourishes our spirits doesn’t always pay the bills that keep us housed and fed.

I have always wanted my writing to remain accessible. I want these words to reach whoever needs them, especially those moving through grief, exhaustion or survival. That part will not change. I don’t believe healing or truth should sit behind a wall.

At the same time, I am the sole provider for my family. And sustaining this work, the writing, the care, the time it takes to tell the truth with integrity, requires support.

So I’m asking gently…

If my words have ever helped you name something you couldn’t before, if they’ve made you feel less alone, or given you a moment of breath, would you consider supporting this work with a $13 monthly subscription?

Paid subscriptions don’t just unlock posts. They help make it possible for me to keep writing honestly, to keep raising my daughter with intention and to keep choosing a life rooted in care rather than constant burnout. They help me continue offering this space as one built on truth, softness and resistance.

In a addition to more deep, unfiltered essays where I write about everything that shapes me (faith, grief, culture, politics, love, music, resistance, joy, etc.) paid subscribers also receive…

Beneath the Petals: A peek behind the blooms: life updates, travels, songs and small treasures gathered along the way. A softer, more personal corner of Assata Blooms where I share what’s unfolding in real time.

First Blooms & Gatherings: Early access to new poems and podcast episodes, plus invitations to live readings and intimate community conversations.

But most importantly, your support lets me keep doing what I was meant to do: write freely, mother fiercely and tend this living archive of words, culture and care. Because in a world this loud, I still believe our words can be medicine. And I hope you do, too.

Yakoke (thank you) for being here, for reading and for helping me keep the garden growing in whatever way you’re able.

With love and solidarity,
Assata 🌷

🌸 May we keep blooming in all the places we’re called to grow.