This year we witnessed the height of #MeToo, empowering women and further exposing a culture of toxic masculinity. Straws were banned, mental health became an issue of mass concern, finally. Democrats took the house and Michelle Obama is still kicking ass, in iridescent, thigh-high Balenciaga boots.

But 2018 was also full of level-ups that didn’t quite pan out, heartache from untimely loss and for many, the realization of purpose and its cost. All things considered, how can one truly measure the year?

I’ve chosen to assess mine in growth and not just my own. Expansions made by others are constant sources of inspiration. When I started writing for The Bridge I was looking for a creative outlet. My world had been a bit rocked by the duplicitous nature of someone I once called friend. My father’s illness wasn’t going away and my beloved mentor received news that her days on this earth were numbered. I was a little overwhelmed and all too excited for an escape, even if it was only between the lines of a 500-word article.

I reconnected with a young editor who was on a journey of his own, stepping up and assuming his place within the family business. I met a passionate writer with the warmest of smiles, an incredibly jovial character who wrote and hosted the podcast, a photographer as mysterious as his mustache and another one full of wanderlust. From each of them I’ve learned so much. Though, they weren’t my only teachers.

The subjects of my articles, the people’s whose stories I’ve told, reinforced my audacity to hope. From power moves made by Andre Hopson and Ian Callender to not only secure the bag, but to continue D.C.’s legacy of prominent black entrepreneurs; to Tenbeete Solomon’s [Trapbob] true-to-self, approach of making it in the city that made her. And, the hustle of Keyonna and Shawn Lindsay, serving the community while in love, married and parenting two. Their experiences recharged my spirit. Even more, I viewed those daring greatly in my own circle with a renewed sense of appreciation and admiration.

November brought my 30th birthday, and the year began to round out. I found myself more in tune with the cosmos; questions I had beaten to death and instances of unnecessary angst started to find resolve. In a few days, we’ll have reached the end. A year of growth, measured in truths, sunsets and shots of espresso. I look to 2019, ready with only what is needed, leaving all else behind.

WI Guest Author

This correspondent is a guest contributor to The Washington Informer.

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