The news today, as awful as it is, is a serious distraction.
The rich are getting richer by pressing their boots firmly against the necks of the poor and lower middle class—widening the gap, silencing the struggle, and disguising oppression with headlines.
Back in the Great Depression, my grandparents didn’t get a news flash.
They might have simply said:
- “Times are hard.”
- “Ain’t no work.”
- “We’re making do.”
- “The store stopped carrying flour again.”
- “We’re lucky to eat today.”
Sound familiar?
Our elders were already hustling. Black people were mistreated with cruelty baked into policy and culture. If they wanted to eat, they had to grow their own food. Fruit trees. Vines. Rows of vegetables. Chickens scratching in the yard. Survival wasn’t theoretical—it was practiced.
We can see the signs. And somewhere in our DNA, we know this rhythm:
Prepare now—or starve tomorrow.
My siblings, cousins, and I heard the stories growing up. We saw the rituals of preparation, passed down like sacred survival spells. Extra cans hidden for emergencies. Food wrapped in napkins and tucked in purses. Plastic bags of pills stashed quietly.
That wasn’t superstition. That was their PTSD.
They remembered. And they made sure we remembered.
So if you’re waiting for the headlines to call this the next Great Depression, don’t.
They won’t. Not until our great-great-grandchildren read about it in sanitized textbooks.
This moment is history in real time.
It’s not about panic. It’s about power.
Grow. Save. Share. Build. Heal.
And never forget.
Wicked Grim Stories 
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