The Warning That Sparked It AllIt started with a slide.Vanessa Riley trying to find peace and missing it.Nine months away from the release of
Fire Sword and Sea, my fourth historical fiction novel, I was using Canva—an online design tool—to create character slides. Each slide was a snapshot of a journey: a woman who rose from enslavement to ship captain, a reimagined heroine defying colonial narratives and gender norms. I hit the “add speaker notes” button, eager to get tips for speaking. I dream big, thinking I’ll be having substantive discussions on my writing and research. And then—Cava flagged me.Thanks for reading Vanessa Riley's Write of Passage! This post is public so feel free to share it.The Canva warning on my character’s slide.It warned me, that is appears I’m working on a political topic which is not supported.I paused. Political? This wasn’t a manifesto. I didn’t mention government, war, or even the man in the White House. Just a character arc. A woman doing what men historically claimed as their domain. A woman who had been enslaved, now captain of her own destiny. Was that what triggered the flag?The slide in question. Yes, I still can’t believe it.Was it because she was Black? Because she was free? Because she existed at all? At the time of this recording Canva has not responded.Vanessa Riley's Write of Passage is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.What Had Happened Was…There’s a popular phrase in Black vernacular storytelling—“What had happened was…” It’s often said with a chuckle, a smile, a pause before unpacking truth. It’s a doorway to context, a map through what might otherwise get dismissed.So—what had happened was—I was trying to promote a book.I wasn’t trying to ignite a movement or start a fire. I just wanted to tell a story that mattered. And the tools I used turned on me. These so-called helpers, these digital platforms that were supposed to amplify my voice, were suddenly filtering it.It’s easy to say the creator world is dicey right now. We’re all stressed—consumers, readers, artists alike. But we can’t pretend this isn’t something deeper. Truth is under attack. Art is under review. And some of us are being silenced before we even speak.History Is on the Chopping BlockI’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about why Canva flagged that slide with the magic word enslaved. To me it’s simple and diabolical: history—especially Black history—is being erased. It’s happening now, it’s in real time.We are witnessing the rollback of truth. Not in some distant dystopia, but here and now.Books are being banned. Curriculum gutted. The “both sides” rhetoric used to flatten facts into nothingness. Trusted institutions are quiet or complicit. The hunger for moral equivalence is starving out real accountability.If you think you're safe, don’t be fooled. They are coming for you, too. Just ask your Grandma or senior friend who can no longer call their social security office, and now must make inconvenient trips to get questions answered.Art Is—and Always Has Been—PoliticalFrom the beginning of time, artists have resisted. Protest art existed long before hashtags and headlines:* Ancient Egyptians carved critiques into pottery and tombs.* Michelangelo’s David stood as a symbol of resistance against the de Medici family.* Picasso’s Guernica screamed against fascism.* Jean-Michel Basquiat painted the pain of racism and systemic decay on city walls.Writers too have been on the front lines of protest:*
Harriet Beecher Stowe’s