Shame has been a mother tongue because I was taught to be ashamed—ashamed of my body, my size, the fullness of my nose, the width of my hips, the gap in my teeth, the volume of my laughter, the chocolate brown of my skin, and the depths of my joy. But those very things I used to hate, those very parts of me I used to loathe, have become the parts I love the most.
When I listen, God speaks to my innermost being, to my interstitial spaces. When I obey and act by faith, God moves big and bold on my behalf.
The only way to truly do this wrong is to not do it at all. So here I am, taking my own advice—showing up, even if it’s imperfect. Because what’s the alternative? To keep my thoughts to myself, trapped by the idea that I need to fit into some imaginary mold? As my nephew used to say at the beautiful, ripe, polite age of 2, ‘No, thank you, please!’
“Your will and mine be one,” I prayed! I didn’t know what I was praying for exactly, but I knew it’d be good. And yet again, here you are doing exceedingly and abundantly!”
The very thing that they said they would never do is actually the best thing that could happen to them. Have you ever wondered why it is that the things you said you would never do are the best things that have happened to you?
My heart rate soared, even as I sat still—a stark reminder of how deeply stress lives within us. I survived those past moments, but healing only came when I finally chose to live with intention. From recounting stress to rewriting my story, I’ve learned that true health isn’t just the absence of disease; it’s alignment of mind, body, and spirit.
Boundaries aren’t about rejecting others but about inviting healthy, meaningful connections. They’re your protective forcefield, ensuring you and your spaces remain safe, healthy, and secure.
It’s crazy, isn’t it? That in a world full of hatred and negativity, people dare ask a bright light to turn down. Asking me to be less joyful is, at its core, self-centered. Instead, I submit to your consideration: why are you offended by my joy?!
Help me not be like Isaac who ran. Help me stand tall, firm, confident. Give me courage to do Your will, Your work—faith and work. Help me work, oh God! Not nurse work, but deep inner personal work.
I, along with two Black women—one with 20 years of experience and another with over 20—were all pushed out. We were forced into silence. Our voices didn’t matter to those who had the power to hear them. As a Black woman in Amerikkka, I’ll say this: Black and Brown women are often fired for no longer being a “culture fit.” Interesting, isn’t it? We were hired because our excellence preceded us, and yet months or years later, we’re no longer a fit? If (White) folks were truthful with themselves first and with others, are Black and Brown women not a “culture fit,” or are you simply racist or prejudiced?
