For years, I believed strength meant hustle, survival, and never showing weakness. Illness, therapy, and community have since taught me that true power lives in softness—rest, honesty, and allowing myself to be held. To every Black, queer woman who has been told strength is armor: softness is not your liability, it is your birthright.

Becoming in public is not about perfection, it’s about authenticity, vulnerability, and growth. For Black women and queer women especially, the pressure to always appear flawless can feel overwhelming, but transparency is not weakness—it’s integrity. This reflection is both an invitation and a reminder: you are allowed to be seen in process, still growing, and still worthy.