For most of 2025, I took a big step back from being as visible on Instagram as I once was—a place that has been a real home for genuine connection and incredible clients for years.
​
My algorithm was about as depressing as one could get and the constant stream of terrified, dead and orphaned children was more than I was mentally equipped to process on a daily basis.
​
As an American not living in America, my relationship with my home country feels increasingly complex.
​
We moved to Lisbon two years ago, before this administration, when things weren’t nearly as dystopian or cruel as they are now.

And just because I’m not physically IN the country, doesn’t mean I’m not emotionally invested in it.
​
I run two businesses -both US based.
I vote.
I pay federal taxes.
My children were born there.
My entire family lives there.
Most of my clients and customers are American.
I FEEL American.
​It’s my country too.

And then, like many of you, I woke up to the news about Renee Nicole Good this week.

The widowed mother of a 6-year-old, shot in the face in broad daylight.

A US citizen.
Denied medical help at the scene.

Her murder now being justified by the highest levels of government.
​
That day I found out was also the day I had Instagram stories and feed posts planned to promote a free storytelling class I am running on Monday.

I couldn’t do it.

(Welcome to the reality of using social media for business.)
​
​If you’re not getting a paycheck automatically deposited into your bank account, you don’t really have the option of going fully dark.
​
Visibility, connection, promotion, and revenue still rely on you.
​
You couldn’t pay me to go back to corporate -so this isn’t “woe is me”, but when the news cycle is soul crushing (which feels constant these days), you still have to show up.
​
And it’s been increasingly tough for me these past few years.
​
🗣 “But just put your head down Patrice and don’t read the news!”
​I can’t.
​
​🗣 “It doesn’t affect you.”
​It affects all of us. It should affect you too.
​
​My uncle Kevin – one of my most favorite humans on this planet -and who I rang in the New Year with in Paris, wears a whistle (A WHISTLE) at all times in his Chicago neighborhood to alert his diverse community about ICE raids. (like WHHAAT HUUHH???)

And as a business owner whose revenue depends on platforms like LinkedIn, Instagram, and email, talking about AI and storytelling can feel absurd when placed next to the day’s headlines.

Layer on the fact that so many Americans were raised on the belief that “this doesn’t happen here,” and it can feel like we’re living inside a horror novel we can’t wake up from—even from an ocean away.
​
I’ve caught myself asking this week: what is the point of any of this?
​Of showing up. Of building something. Of asking people to listen.

And every time I sit with that question long enough, the answer is the same –

Your voice isn’t something you turn on in a crisis. ​
It’s something you’ve been building long before the moment demands it.

I’ve spent years working with founders and businesses on their storytelling—helping them connect to a deeper, truer part of themselves.
​
And I know from all of this work that you don’t suddenly become someone who speaks clearly when the stakes are high—whether that’s about injustice, a hard business decision, a public mistake, or what you actually stand for as a leader.

That clarity is built long before the moment demands it.
​Storytelling and “voice” is something you practice.

It starts small.

The business post where you share what actually happened, not what sounds impressive on LinkedIn.

The moment you tell the real reason you started your company, not the polished elevator pitch.

The time you get on stage and you speak from your soul, cringe and all.

Your storytelling muscle gets stronger every time you choose truth over comfort.

Which is why I care so deeply about people not outsourcing their voice – or their thinking – to AI.

The voice that speaks up for a murdered mother grows from the same place as the voice that tells your audience what you stand for.

Because when moments like this week happen – moments that suck the breath out of you – you need to know what you actually stand for.

Not what a template suggests you say.

I know many of you are holding the same tension I am… trying to show up for your work while the world feels like it’s burning. Wondering “What’s the point?”

But It does matter. Your voice matters (even more so now). Your story matters.

Silence only leaves space for people who should never be in charge of the narrative.

And I don’t think “silence” always means a lack of care. Often, it’s what happens when someone cares deeply but doesn’t yet know how to say what feels true.

On Monday, I’m hosting a free live workshop on uncovering your uncopyable idea – the message your experiences have been pointing to all along.

Not to post more.
But to know what you stand for.

Now that we have incredible execution tools (including AI that can help structure and refine once you know what you want to say), the real work is going deeper.
​
Finding the insight underneath the experience. The meaning that can’t be automated.

And to anyone navigating this same tension between business and humanity – you’re not alone.

I don’t think this gets easier.

The algorithm will probably stay depressing.
The news cycle will keep being soul-crushing. (although all the protests around the US this week is giving me hope.)

But the more I’m vocal about what I believe and find ways to actually help – in my case, through storytelling work – the less helpless I feel.

Maybe that’s enough for now.​

XO
Patrice