I Was Killing It. They Were Still Tryna Kill Me.

I leaned in when one of them—a white woman I’d considered a friend—smirked at me and asked:

“Hey Jasmine, know the 3 H’s you should avoid?”

I expected something corny.

You know, white people "funny."
Instead, she grinned and said:

And the room erupted.
They lost it.

Full-on belly laughs. Faces turning red.
Wiping tears.

And me?
I just stood there.
I looked around—waiting for someone to flinch.

To look embarrassed. To say, “Damn, girl. Not that.”

But no one did.

The fact that she could cut me so deeply and laugh about it.

The fact that someone I considered safe in this racist hellhole was just another demon…

My brain started spinning with every version of the same question:

Do I speak up? And then what?

Instead, I did something else.
I grabbed my bag.
Took a deep breath.

And I said: “I guess I should talk to HR, huh?”

It was my last thread of courage. Me trying to be brave.

Me trying to say: I see what you did. I’m not crazy. I’m not backing down.

BUT... they laughed even harder.

My boss pointed at me like I was the cherry on top.

Like my pain was the punchline.
Like the fact that I said anything at all was hilarious.

I left.

Got on the elevator.
And when the doors closed?
I couldn’t feel my hands.
I walked the blocks to the subway like I was underwater.

Every micro aggression I’d ever swallowed started clawing their way back up my throat.

By the time I got to the platform, I was done.
And then, out of nowhere,
That voice in my head whispered:

“Kill yourself.”

Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just... suggested.

Like my brain did the math and couldn’t make the numbers work anymore.
If this is what I fought for…
If this is what making it looks like…

What’s the point?

The train rolled in. Doors hissed open.

People walked past me like I didn’t exist.

I took one step forward.

And then—BAM.

Some random man shoulder-checked me so hard I stumbled.
Didn’t even look at me.

Just said, “Move, bitch,” and kept walking.
He saved me. And immediately I thought, "Jesus?"

Did Jesus just save my life and call me a bitch?
I laughed.

The kind where you can’t catch your breath. And maybe you cry a lil. But it’s the good kind. 

That night. Something shifted.
I would go on to write a series that changed my life. It’s called Hotline. 

But we’ll get to that.

This is Ink & Alchemy.
Where we turn the almost-ending… into the beginning.

P.S. Ever had a moment that broke you—only to realize it birthed something bigger?Reply and tell me what survived with you.

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