I’m a firm believer in what I call spiritual downloads. When an idea arrives, I believe it’s meant to be honored. No matter the time or place, I write it down because I’ve learned that inspiration often comes with purpose.

A few years ago, I found myself lying in bed thinking about a conversation I’d had with a friend years earlier. I wondered, What if I turned this into a story? I opened my laptop and began writing. What I thought would become a short story transformed into a monologue. Then another followed, and another. Soon, I found myself weaving together my own experiences with the experiences of people around me. Each monologue became a space to question why we carry what we carry, why we silence ourselves, and whether we’re protecting our own peace or everyone else’s.

Before I knew it, there were five.

I shared the monologues with a few friends and family members, then tucked them away. Life moved on, and so did I.

When I began teaching full-time, creating became increasingly difficult. I poured so much of myself into my students that I slowly stopped pouring into myself. By the time winter break arrived, I promised myself I would finally make something. I imagined creating TikToks, writing music, and filming interviews for my media platform, Yes Black Girl. Instead, I rested. At first, I felt guilty. Eventually, I realized I wasn’t lazy, I was burned out.

One afternoon, while searching through old files on my laptop, I rediscovered the monologues. Reading them felt like reconnecting with a version of myself I had almost forgotten. I immediately knew they deserved to exist beyond a document. I considered producing them as a stage production, releasing them individually online, or simply letting them remain words on a page. But one thought kept returning:

Make the film.

I had never directed or fully produced a narrative film before. I didn’t have all the answers, but I had the story. Step by step, I built a team, cast incredible actors, found locations, rented equipment, and learned as I went. What began as a collection of forgotten writings became Unsaid.

At its core, Unsaid is about the freedom that comes from releasing the things we’ve buried inside ourselves. It’s about the conversations we rehearse but never have, the emotions we suppress, and the quiet weight so many people carry every day.

Making this film taught me something, too.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do isn’t having all the answers; it’s choosing ourselves. Choosing to create. Choosing to begin before we feel ready. Choosing to trust that the stories placed on our hearts are there for a reason.

I hope Unsaid encourages audiences to reflect on what they’ve been carrying, what they’ve left unspoken, and what freedom might look like if they finally allowed themselves to let it go.

— Kierra Sharae