Category: Blogging

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 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’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 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 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’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 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’ve been sitting with this word—vulnerability—for weeks now. Not the Instagram version, where someone shares a neatly packaged struggle and gets flooded with heart emojis. I’m talking about the kind that makes your voice wobble and your hands go clammy….