J.R. Whittington

I walked in jaded. I walked out transformed. Audra didn’t belt the way I expected—but she broke me open in ways I didn’t see coming. This wasn’t the Gypsy I dreamed of. It was something deeper. Something holy.

“Forever” wrapped around my spirit and kissed the parts I thought had gone numb—Black love, soft and sacred, finally shown the way it deserves.

Ryan Coogler scares me—and not for the reasons you think. This vampire film didn’t just bite, it baptized me in Black brilliance.

These weren’t performers. These were mirrors. I saw my cousins, my aunties, my brothers in them. They reached into their souls and pulled me out of my own weary world. I wasn’t just in the audience—I was in their home. I was on that stage. I was *them.*