People hear the name Albert Einstein and think of genius, equations, and wild hair. I hear something different.

I hear disruption.

Einstein didn’t just study the world — he challenged the way people believed the world worked. He questioned time, space, and reality itself. And in my own way, as a writer, that’s exactly what I do too.

I don’t write to make people comfortable.
I write to make people think.

Thought Experiments vs. Lived Experience

Einstein used thought experiments — imagining scenarios in his mind to test the limits of physics.

I use lived experience.

My stories, my reflections, my raw and unfiltered truth are my version of experiments. I place readers inside moments they might normally look away from: racial profiling disguised as “advice,” the silence around sexual abuse in relationships, the way faith can be used to heal — or to harm.

I ask the same kind of dangerous question Einstein asked, just in a different language:

What if the way we’ve always understood this… is wrong?

Being Uncomfortable Is Part of Growth

Einstein’s ideas weren’t immediately celebrated. They were doubted, challenged, and resisted.

I recognize that feeling.

When I write about being punished instead of protected, about being stereotyped instead of seen, about being told to be “holy” instead of being safe — not everyone applauds. Some people get angry. Some get defensive. Some get quiet.

But discomfort is often a sign that something true has been touched.

Imagination Isn’t Escape — It’s Power

Einstein said imagination was more important than knowledge.

To me, imagination is survival.

It’s the ability to see a world where young Black women aren’t assumed to be doomed.
Where being sexy doesn’t mean being unsafe.
Where faith doesn’t silence pain.
Where writing your story isn’t rebellion — it’s freedom.

My Pen Is My Theory of Everything

Einstein searched for a theory that could explain the universe.

I search for words that can explain human behavior — our cruelty, our fear, our beauty, and our capacity to change.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I refuse to stop asking the questions.

This Is My Genius

Not in numbers.
Not in formulas.
But in truth-telling.

In being raw when it would be easier to be polished.
In being honest when it would be safer to be silent.
In being myself — fully, loudly, and unapologetically — on the page.

So yes, I relate to Albert Einstein.

Not because I’m trying to rewrite the laws of physics.

But because I’m trying to rewrite the way we see each other.