Author: Harold Little

I remember the first time someone called me “so strong.” I was twenty-two, fresh out of college, and barely holding it together after a family crisis that had hollowed me out. The words were meant as a kindness, I’m sure….

I remember the first time someone called me “strong.” I was twelve, standing in my grandmother’s kitchen, fighting back tears after a classmate made a crack about my hair. My grandmother, a woman who’d crossed oceans and built a life…

I’ve been sitting with this idea of vulnerability for a while now. Not the polished, shareable kind that looks good in a caption or a hashtag, but the messy, quiet kind that sits in your chest when you’re the only…

I’ve been sitting with the word vulnerability for a while now. It’s one of those words that floats through self-help podcasts, late-night talks with friends, and the kind of Instagram posts where someone’s mid-sob or laughing so hard they can’t…

I remember the first time someone called me “strong.” I was twelve, standing in my grandmother’s kitchen, fighting back tears after a classmate made a crack about my hair. My aunt patted my shoulder and said, “You’re a strong Black…

I’ve been sitting with this word—vulnerability—for a while now. Not the polished, stage-ready version we see in curated talks or Instagram squares. The real, messy, unarmored kind. The kind that catches in your throat when you’re trying to explain why…

I keep coming back to a quiet moment in my car, engine off, after a dinner party. The conversation had drifted into tender territory—fears, failures, the stuff we usually keep locked up. I listened. I nodded. And when it was…

I used to think vulnerability was just about speaking your truth. You know, the kind of thing you hear on podcasts or read in a self-help book—open up, let people see the real you, and the world gets a little…

I used to think I had vulnerability figured out. I’d read the books, nodded along with the talks, and even practiced it in the small, safe circles where I felt at home. But somewhere along the way, I started to…

I used to think vulnerability was just about opening up. You say what’s on your mind, you let someone see the messy parts, and somehow you feel lighter. That’s the story we’ve all been sold, right? But the longer I’ve…