Queendom is more than being just a strong black woman. That title is not simply for women with degrees, wealthy bank account, nor wives. It is not for the indecisive, nor for those that refuse to move past the roadblocks in their life. We must understand to be a Queen requires a sister to be above the may lay, and she must be willing to stand above reproach. To make the best decisions in the situations she finds herself faced with, and she must be willing to sacrifice for what she believes in.

So many of our sisters are running with the logic respect me because I’m a Black Queen, and they are literally admonishing and demanding black men honor their Queendom. I love the self-esteem, and the positive affirmation over one’s life, but you must do more than that. Sisters you must first believe in your own Queendom, and in doing so it will require to set some order to your realm. “Every Queen isn’t the same”. That is true when it comes to preference and individuality…not principle. If your realm is not to fall to confusion and disarray there must be order, standards and boundaries. Sound decisions will not come from a mental space riddled in confusions and contradictions. Believe me there are men that need to evaluate the usage of King for these same principle reasons when it comes to leadership, but that’s for a men’s meeting. If you don’t respect your own Queendom, you can’t get angry with black men for not respecting, or acknowledging, what they can’t see…or what they view as a walking contradiction.

Queens are treated with the utmost respect regardless of their individualities. Things are done for them not because they aren’t strong enough to do for themselves, but simply because it is an honor to serve them. We need to understand this when we allow white women to use our energy and essence for their feminist fight. I have seen sisters stand in a crowded room and when a brother takes notice, and offers her his seat she accuses him of objectifying her. I’ve seen men hold open the door only to be told “I can do that for myself”. Well, sisters are you Queen or commoner? That is one you truly need to mediate on. Men will want to serve you, and treat you according to your mantle if you insist on being a Queen…that does not make you less of a woman. Make up your mind. Know that just as the nature of black and white women are different…so shall our embodiments be of constitutes the very nature of a Queen.

Whether you are a Queen choosing to stand alone…or one awaiting a King you must implement standards. It’s quite easy to have standards for the man, but it would be wise if you start with self. How you carry yourself, handle your business, the amount of integrity you have, how much truth you live in, your standard of loyalty, and implementation of order will scream who and what you are before the man ever arrives. Yes, some women will hate, but there will be some that desire to understand your nature as a Queen when the above-mentioned flow in a positive energy. None of us are perfect, but Queens aren’t such because they call it. This is the very nature of their being, and they must earn that aura.

Queens are the epitome of grace, mystic, manner, control, accountability, and continued growth. Her path isn’t perfect but she grows from mistakes, and she masters challenges. Queendom doesn’t mean she deals with foolishness from others; it’s quite the opposite as Queens are not to be trifled with. She is not insecure in the strength of her womanhood, so a man catering to her very existence doesn’t make her feel objectified nor belittled. She is graceful in recognizing when she is being honored. When Queens are walking even the brothers that aren’t Kings take notice, and they are strengthened by her presence though they aren’t worthy of her. Sisters you must decide because you can’t be ratchet, drama filled, indecisive, void of accountability, and addicted to insecurity while screaming respect my Queendom.

Everything comes with a price, and to be Queen is to face your past, pain, hurt, and challenges head on. It is to evolve from that previous place, and you must be in control of, and accountable to, yourself. Queens exude order…they don’t repel such. If you claim to be a Queen don’t just say it…please walk in it. Our people are in dire need of the Queens. We need the healing and magic only they can wield. Furthermore, the over saturation of the use of the title without its energy threatens to diminish the respect it invokes. If you can’t handle the weight of the crown there is no shame in such. All a Queen will ask is that you purpose to earn it, or please put it down.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to tell anybody to “be strong” in that tired, dismissive way the world loves to throw at Black women. We’ve carried enough. We’ve swallowed enough. We’ve been told to “calm down,” “relax,” “stop being emotional,” and “be the bigger person” more times than we can count. That’s not what this is about. What I’m talking about is something deeper — something rooted in self‑respect, self‑protection, and self‑awareness.

Because the truth is, we feel deeply. We love deeply. We hurt deeply. And sometimes those emotions rise up so fast and so strong that they try to take the wheel before we’ve even had a chance to breathe. But just because a feeling shows up loud doesn’t mean it deserves the microphone. Giving those feelings the microphone can kill relationships and even land us in the hospital or jail.

One of the most powerful things we can do for ourselves is to learn how to sit with a feeling before we act on it. Not suppress it, pretend it’s not there, nor shame ourselves for having it. Just sit with it. Let it breathe. Let it explain itself. Let it pass through without letting it drag us into decisions we’ll regret later.

Because knee‑jerk reactions? Whew. They feel good in the moment, but they can cost us more than we realize. A job opportunity. A relationship, friendship, peace, reputation…our credibility. And sometimes, the hardest pill to swallow is that even when we’re right, even when the facts are on our side, the way we respond can overshadow the truth we’re trying to stand on.

I’ve learned, especially in my 40s, that being in control of my emotional state doesn’t make me weak… it makes me powerful. It allows me to speak firmly without yelling. It allows me to set boundaries without burning bridges. It allows me to make decisions that are consistent, not chaotic. It keeps me from being tossed around by every irritation, every misunderstanding, every moment of disrespect.

And let’s be honest: some situations really do require us to pause. To breathe, process, and cry if we need to. To journal, pray, and call a sister‑friend who won’t hype us into foolishness but will remind us who we are. That pause is not weakness. That pause is wisdom. That pause is protection.

We can’t tell young women not to fight in the street if we’re still fighting in the boardroom, the group chat, or the family text thread. We can’t tell them to “use their words” when our own words are cutting, impulsive, or fueled by unprocessed hurt. Growth requires consistency. Accountability. And sometimes, humility.

And let me say this plainly: controlling your verbal response is one of the hardest parts of emotional maturity. Especially when you know you’re right. Especially when someone has disrespected you. Especially when you feel misunderstood or dismissed. But sometimes the most expensive thing in the room is the sentence you’re about to say. Sometimes silence is the strategy. Sometimes restraint is the win. Sometimes walking away is the real flex.

This doesn’t mean we let people walk over us. It doesn’t mean we shrink. It doesn’t mean we stop advocating for ourselves. It means we choose our battles with intention. It means we respond from clarity, not chaos. It means we protect our peace like it’s an asset — because it is.

As Black women, we are often expected to be emotional caretakers for everyone around us — partners, children, coworkers, siblings, parents, entire communities. But part of our personal growth is learning that we don’t have to absorb everything. We don’t have to react to everything. We don’t have to carry everything. We get to choose how we show up.

And when we choose to lead with emotional discipline — not suppression, not denial, but discipline — we become more stable, more grounded, and less prone to drama that drains us. We become women who can be trusted with responsibility, leadership, and influence. We become examples for the younger women watching us, whether they’re our daughters, nieces, mentees, or the girls in our neighborhoods who see more than we think.

Putting our emotions in their proper place isn’t about silencing ourselves. It’s about strengthening ourselves. It’s about honoring our feelings without letting them sabotage our future. It’s about becoming the kind of woman who can feel deeply and still choose wisely.

And that, sistahs is real growth.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

When I talk to women in our community, I hear the same quiet confession over and over… “I know what I need to do, I just cannot seem to stay consistent.” And I always tell them, you are not broken, you are not lazy, you are not lost. You are simply human, carrying a load that was never meant to be carried alone. Discipline is not a personality trait; it is a practice. It grows with you, not ahead of you.

Sometimes discipline slips because life has been loud. You may have been in survival mode for so long that structure feels foreign. You could have been pouring into everybody else and forgot what it feels like to pour into yourself. Maybe you are healing, grieving, rebuilding, or just trying to catch your breath. Whatever your story is, you deserve compassion while you find your rhythm again.

One thing I have learned in my short existence is that discipline becomes sustainable when it is rooted in honesty. Not the polished honesty we give the world, but the quiet truth we whisper to ourselves. The truth that says, I am tired and I need help. It says, I want better for myself but I am scared I will fall off again. When you start from that place, you are no longer forcing discipline, you are nurturing it.

Start small. I know that sounds cliché, but it is real. We love a big transformation story, but the truth is that sustainable discipline grows from tiny choices repeated over time. Five minutes of stretching in the morning. Drinking water before your coffee. Cleaning one corner of your home instead of the whole room. Reading two pages instead of a whole chapter. These little moments build trust. They remind your body and your spirit that you can follow through.

Do not underestimate the power of environment. Discipline is not just about willpower; it is about designing a life that supports the woman you are becoming. That might mean putting your phone in another room at night, keeping your journal on your pillow, setting out your vitamins where you can see them, or choosing friends who speak life into your goals. You do not have to fight yourself every day. You can set yourself up to win.

Another thing we do as Black women is try to discipline ourselves through shame. We talk to ourselves in ways we would never talk to a friend. We say things like, “I should be further along,” or “I always mess up,” or “I am so inconsistent.” But shame does not create discipline, it creates avoidance. You cannot bully yourself into a better life. You have to encourage yourself into one. You have to speak to yourself with the same softness you give everybody else.

And let me say this gently… discipline is not punishment. It is not a rigid schedule that squeezes the joy out of your days. Nor is it a constant grind that leaves you exhausted. Discipline is a form of care. It is a way of saying, I matter enough to create a life that supports me. It is a way of honoring your future self, the woman you are becoming, the woman you deserve to be.

You will experience days when you fall off. There will be mornings when you oversleep, evenings when you skip the gym, weeks when your routine unravels. That does not mean you failed. It means you are alive. Sustainable discipline is not about perfection; it is about returning. Returning to your intentions, your practices, and to yourself. Every time you come back, you strengthen the muscle.

Also do not forget community. We were never meant to do life alone. Sometimes discipline grows best when you have people around you who hold you accountable with love. A friend who checks in on your goals. A group chat where you celebrate small wins. A sister circle where you can be honest about your struggles without judgment. Community makes discipline feel less like a burden and more like a shared journey.

So if you are trying to re‑establish discipline, or build it for the first time, give yourself grace. You are not starting from nothing; you are starting from life experience. You are wiser now, and you know yourself better. You know what drains you and what feeds you. You know what you want your life to feel like. Let that guide you.

Discipline is not about becoming a new woman, it is about supporting the woman you already are. And she is worthy of consistency, care, and commitment. She is worthy of routines that nourish her. She is worthy of a life that feels steady. She is worthy of showing up for herself again and again. You are capable of this, ready for this, and you deserve discipline that will move forward with you.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

Some of us grew up in homes where love was complicated, survival came before self-discovery, our voices were silenced before we even learned how to use them. Those early wounds can shape the way we move through the world, making us doubt our worth, our abilities, and our right to want more. Others of us made decisions we regret—choices born out of fear, pressure, or simply not knowing any better at the time. In this ignorance is never bliss, and consequence can fall upon us regardless of what we know impacting our life path.  And then there are those who faced illness, trauma, or life-altering setbacks that forced everything to pause. When your body or mind betrays you, it can feel like the whole world is moving forward without you. You often wonder if you will ever be able to catch up to life, and the longer you are ill the more discouraged you become.

And then one day, you look up and realize you’ve been living a life that doesn’t feel like yours. Maybe you’ve been letting other people steer your story—family, partners, employers, society. Maybe you’ve been shrinking yourself to keep the peace or dimming your light so others won’t feel uncomfortable. You’ve been so busy being dependable that you forgot what it feels like to be fulfilled.

Here’s the truth that matters most: it is never too late to start over. Not at 35, not at 45, not at 55, not at 65. Never. Black women have a long, powerful history of blooming on their own timeline. Some of the most influential, creative, and impactful women in our culture didn’t find their stride until later in life. They didn’t let age, circumstance, or past mistakes stop them. They didn’t let the world’s expectations define their future. They simply decided to begin. And that decision changed everything.

You deserve that same chance.

Starting over doesn’t require perfection. It doesn’t require a clean slate or a flawless past. It doesn’t require approval from anyone. It only requires willingness. A quiet, steady willingness to choose yourself. To choose your joy. To choose your purpose. To choose the dream that’s been tugging at your heart for years.

And yes, it might be hard. Growth often is. You may have to unlearn old patterns, set boundaries you’ve never set before, or walk away from people who benefited from your silence. You may have to rebuild your confidence piece by piece. You will have to face the parts of your story that still sting. But you can do it. You’ve already survived things that would have broken someone else.

What you’re reaching for now isn’t just a dream…it’s a reclamation. It’s you taking back your narrative. It’s you deciding that your life still has chapters left to write. It’s you choosing to live with intention instead of obligation.

The beauty of it all is that your journey won’t just transform you. One day, another Black woman—maybe younger, maybe older, maybe standing at her own crossroads—will see your courage and feel something awaken in her. She’ll see you starting over, choosing joy, pursuing purpose, and she’ll think, “If she can do it, maybe I can too.” Your decision to rise could be the spark that lights someone else’s path. That’s legacy. Not just what you leave behind, but what you inspire while you’re still here.

Don’t talk yourself out of the dreams that keep tapping on your spirit. Don’t let fear convince you that your time has passed. Don’t let anyone—family, friends, partners, coworkers—tell you that you’re reaching too high or wanting too much. They don’t get to decide what’s possible for you. You are allowed to reinvent yourself. You are allowed to dream again. You are allowed to choose a life that feels meaningful, joyful, and aligned with who you truly are. And you are allowed to begin today.

Your story isn’t over. It’s unfolding. And this next chapter might just be the one that finally feels like home.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

Far to often we do not realize the gravity of this mistake until what we could do for self is threatened or no longer an option. Reality hits us when we can’t move…when those we love leave us here, and when we become faced with out own mortality. All of a sudden, the “maybe another time” box comes to the forefront of our mind. We realize we are not living…we’re just here. We’re just here moving from one day to the next until we are no more. No matter what is happening sometimes you must stop and tell yourself…don’t forget to live.

I have lived with debilitating health conditions for the majority of my adult life. I decided I never wanted to marry because I felt it was wrong to burden someone else with my health challenges, and I knew having children was not an option. I would find ways to try to justify my existence by giving all I could to those I loved. I tried to show up to everything that my body would allow. However, I never allowed myself to think about the things I wanted…places I wanted to see and things I would like to accomplish. The only thing I never gave up was writing…but even that became more of a necessity than the joy it had always been. Before my last aunt passed away, she asked me a very profound question, “Chelle do you want up with the intention of living, or dying”? At the time I couldn’t really process what she was asking, and once she passed the time for asking for clarity was gone. I continued in the way I had been…active in my family, my neighborhood, my church, just making my body move past its limits like this was my penance. If I am limited by illness this is the least I can do to justify my being alive. You see, I never understood my existence was enough. I deserved a chance at happiness because I was alive. I didn’t understand that I had a right to truly live as much as possible.

Those dear to me tried to help me live some, tried to introduce me to different things but I didn’t feel I deserved it so I blew it off. Well, just when I thought life couldn’t get any more challenging it did. My body started shutting down. I was admitted to the hospital and for the first time in a long time I thought I was on my way to the other side. As I laid in the hospital bed, I remembered my aunt’s question. I understood in that moment that I was not living with the intention…I was just existing and waiting to die. I was moving through life like I just didn’t want anyone to come to my funeral and say she never worked, never tried, and never helped. What was missing was I didn’t realize…she had not lived. Here I was laying in the hospital bed, and I had not seen anything outside of my city, I had not written the books I wanted to, I had not played the video games on my list, and there were many different foods I wanted to taste. More importantly, I wanted to taste life. Even if I had to have an abridged version due to my health, I needed to do more than just exist. I promised myself if I made through this health scare I would life with intention, and I would take care of myself…my whole being.

Life is difficult, and being a Black woman adds to the challenges. However, take the time to live. Move the ideas and dreams from your “maybe later box” and move them to a vision board. Live with intention, not just for others, but also for you. When it’s over you deserve to say, I have no regrets. Only you can make that a reality, and your every existence is deserving of such. No matter what is going on…do not forget to Live.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

The bottom line is this “doing you’ without consequence is nonexistent for our people. That is like playing Russian roulette with life. Some young people began to understand the lesson I was trying to impart. The problem is too many of them learned the lesson, as my grandfather used to say, in blood. They saw their friends killed, experienced wrongful arrest, experienced assault, and very other kinds of trauma. This was heartbreaking as they were just teenagers.  The problem is why are we fighting with adults now over the same thing?

This idea of I’m going to “do me” is running rampant in our community. As with the young people I understand the sentiment, but the problem is the ones leading the cry now are adults. They have some experience, some understanding, and they know the price that is on the line…or they should. The time we are living in is just as perilous, some would argue, as those that came before us and we are getting closer to their reality. This is not a history book, this is 2026, and the evil in power is trying to turn back time to redefine our understanding of oppression. When some of us think of ICE we think of our brothers and sisters from different places, but do we not understand our people have been harassed, and unlawfully detained too? As adults, how we process the world around us, and how we respond to it will affect our children. We can’t tell them to practice caution in what they wear and where they go, and we can’t do the same. Disciple and control will have to come together in us so that we are not impulsive, and so that we don’t become so fed up with everything we are seeing that we just say to heck with it, I’m “doing me”.

The truth is there are events we may get a gut feeling it won’t be wise to attend. There are times we might decide it is best to stay home. Sometimes the small family gathering will have to be enough. We might not want to venture out into places we don’t know in our state and in various parts of the country. Many of us may have unplugged after the elections not caring about being bothered by the stress of knowing specifically what’s going on in the country. We may be telling ourselves we will just rest for the rest of this admiration’s term. However, the truth is any of these positions at this time might be the ultimate undoing of our people. We want to rest, live, breath, and “do us”. This has a price, and it’s not one we want to endure.

We are an innovative people. We can find ways to express ourselves, be ourselves, have out balance of peace and still be mindful of the reality around us. We may have to redefine what it means to “do you”, so that it doesn’t get us killed. Teaching the youth will mean checking back in. I’m not saying we must march and be everywhere, as I truly believe we will need to find a different way to protect ourselves and our future. But we can’t just walk around like madness is not happening and move haphazardly in spite. As I stated, I have the saying “ignorance is bliss”. In these times I’d prefer, “Just because you can do a thing doesn’t mean you should”.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

The problem of racism in Mardi Gras run deep. Long before the parades became tourist attractions, the city’s krewes were exclusive social clubs that openly excluded Black people from membership. Some of the oldest krewes refused to integrate well into the 1990s, choosing to stop parading rather than accept Black riders. In 2026 the hierarchy of who gets to ride, who gets to lead, and who gets to be celebrated still reflects old lines of racist power. At the same time, Black New Orleanians have always shaped Mardi Gras—from the Baby Dolls to the Skull and Bone Gangs to the Mardi Gras Indians—yet our contributions were historically dismissed or treated as exotic side attractions rather than central pillars of the culture.

This year, those tensions resurfaced in ways that felt both familiar and exhausting. One of the most disturbing incidents happened during the Krewe of Tucks parade; photos circulated showing Black dolls hanging by their necks from bead ropes attached to a float. The images spread quickly and sparked outrage across the city. Officials, including Mayor Helena Moreno, condemned the display as deeply offensive and demanded accountability from the krewe’s leadership. The Louisiana Attorney General even launched a state-level investigation into how such imagery made it onto the parade route at all, and whether any civil rights violations were involved. The problem is those in leadership know how the imagery made it to the parade route. They know the history of the hatred on those routes, and the sad part is we do not expect the matter to be handled. We hear the words, but we have been hearing them forever without adequate change.

Seeing those photos hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just the dolls—it was the reminder that even in 2026, even in a city where Black culture defines the rhythm of daily life, someone still thought that kind of imagery was funny, or edgy, or acceptable. It made me think about how often Black people in New Orleans are expected to perform joy while swallowing disrespect.

Hanging Black dolls is not ambiguous. It’s not a misunderstanding. It’s a reminder of lynching, of dehumanization, of the violence that Black communities have endured for generations. And to see it rolling down St. Charles Avenue, in broad daylight, during a celebration that claims to represent the whole city, felt like a slap. Many of us understand the old ways…we don’t need to be on St, Charles. It is sad that we must feel that way, but to truly enjoy Mardi Gra may of us stick to spaces that have always been for us. No one is saying any one has to stick to a certain part of New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but natives know some spaces are uncomfortable for us.

Still, I can’t help but feel conflicted. I love Mardi Gras. I love the music, the food, and the way the city feels alive in a way no other place can match. But I also carry the knowledge that the celebration has always been layered joy on top of struggle, tradition on top of exclusion. This year just made those layers more visible.

Maybe that visibility is a step forward. Maybe calling out these incidents, loudly and publicly, is part of how the city grows. But it’s hard not to wish that the burden didn’t always fall on Black people to explain why something is hurtful, or to push for accountability, or to remind others that Mardi Gras belongs to us too. There is a part of me that wants the change to truly begin.

As the season wrapped up, the parades still rolled, the beads still flew, and the crowds still danced. But for many of us, the celebration came with a heaviness that’s hard to shake. Mardi Gras will always be a mix of beauty and contradiction. This year just reminded me that the work of confronting its past—and its present—is far from over.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

After Katrina, as we struggled to come home, we watched a real time gentrification begin to happen in the city at a rapid rate, and our leadership was complicit. People of varying races moved to New Orleans and looked down on the Black native. They wanted to change a culture that had been here long before them. They wanted noise ordinances to silence the music that never stopped. They wanted to block streets that you could not, while being salty when a Second Line happened in their neighborhood. They didn’t realize the New Orleans you visit is not seasonal…that is life for us.

We watched the price of homes, rentals, insurance, everything skyrocketed while short-term leases were allowed to thrive in residential areas where families should have been able to live. Police began to see some and ignored others. Some native street vendors would be shut down, or they would have to jump through hoops to work, while other ethnicities were allowed to thrive, breaking rules they set for us. Yet in all of this were still expected to maintain the culture that keeps people coming to New Orleans all year long. This is exhausting, but more importantly it is heartbreaking.

How the homeless have been dealt with, and the issue of addicts that are not Black citizens further establishes the disenfranchised we experience in out own home. Our children don’t get the schools they deserve because our schools housed a good part of our culture, and it is being systemically destroyed. The culture we hold dear and have passed down for generations does not mean the same to the transplants. Some might disagree, but the truth is in how the natives of this city are treated. This is not Houston or Atlanta or another city in the US…the culture here is different and New Orleans can not survive without it.

We woke up one morning and realized our governor had invited the National Guard to New Orleans. In addition, our outgoing mayor is in turmoil, and we look at incoming leadership that still won’t center the deep needs for this city so that we all can thrive. New Orleans is, again, in a fight to survive and continue the culture we all know and love. What we create in our city happens to make money, but it is for soul first. The music that flows here is sourced from the depths of our being and it deserves to continue. We need to be able to have our soul respected in our place of origin. If you move to New Orleans please respect the culture and natives that are already here, if you can’t do so just visit or leave us in peace. Many of us will have to fight for our city the old fashion way…through the culture in the streets.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

I disagree with my neighbor, and I feel it’s one of the reasons why we are having trouble caring for each other. Everyone will have challenges, and those hardships are priority because they are happening to you. They hit harder because they are personal, and in your face. However, there are people in this world who are experiencing hardships so catastrophic that they would trade places with you in a heartbeat. Likewise, there are situations that you face that are so daunting that you wouldn’t mind trading places with someone else. The thing is, it’s okay to acknowledge how hard a road is for someone else, and it’s okay to realize they may be fighting more than you can carry. It doesn’t make your hardships less than, but it might save your perspective and life. You may look at them and find the inspiration to keep going, because if they can so can you. This is a part of the human experience. When we can see past ourselves, we can walk in true empathy. When we can truly see past ourselves, we can then give those we care about the support we demand. It is important in emotional intelligence to be able to acknowledge that in most cases a scrap on the knee is not the same as a gunshot wound. This may sound cray, but some are being taught their scraped knee that needs antiseptic and a Band-Aid is on par with a gunshot wound. How is empathy born from that? It’s not.

Some of our relationships are tanking because this is how we treat each other. If one has no experience in a situation they feel they don’t have to have to show even proper sympathy…until it happens to them and they demand what they refuse to give. We see it in grief all the time. Someone is broken from losing a parent that was their favorite person tragically, and a friend throws in their face well I lost a cousin…while telling that same person they are having dinner with their parents. Both are grieving…however, one is going to dinner with parents while the other feels like a part of their DNA just left the earth. In this scenario, all grief can be acknowledged…and the friend with both parents could be more caring instead of trying to one up. There is a difference between trying to connect as in I may not know parental loss, but I know loss and I’m here for you, verses my loss is greater than yours because it’s my life. We can acknowledge our own challenges and know they are valid, while being grateful it is not worse because clearly, we see worse exists.

Though my health challenges are severe I saw worse. I am grateful for the conversation in the grocery store. That sister encouraged me and showed me I can keep going. She had a smile I will never forget, and even in her situation she was so positive and full of life. She will never know how much she blessed me, because I saw someone going through more and they were shining.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

We know there are systemic issues at play that cause one to ask “who am I”, questioning what we already know about self.   Being able to define self opens up so many other doors whereby we can show up for ourselves. Knowing who you are helps inform how you interact with people, what you will tolerate, and can help one get outside of their heads to progress forward in life.

When was the last time you felt confident about how you see yourself in relation to the world around you? Do you find yourself constantly questioning self? Are you always excusing behaviors that are harmful because you are not sure of your response? Do you find it difficult to be yourself out loud taking the space you need? Are you adjusting how you feel about matters to appease those around you? Do you feel your sense of self is not accurate if others don’t validate you? Do you tend to adapt to the methods of others to be more acceptable in a space? All of these questions can lead to an understanding of if you truly know who you are, and it you value that person. Can you accept that person that is truly you? This is a tough internal work, and for many of us it is painful. As we unpack the question of whether we know ourselves we might end up acknowledging harm that has been done to us, but even more importantly the harm we have done to ourselves. Facing these things are often the biggest deterrents from doing the work to know ourselves and settle with that knowledge. The decision to get to know yourself is one of the best decisions you can make; it is worth the hard work and struggle to be able to sit comfortably within yourself.

Take the time to sit with yourself quietly. If no one would judge you, what do you like. What are the things you are passionate about? What informs your value system? I understand you might be hesitant at first or even feel you need help, and that is ok. However, before you reach out get some truth about you from you. It doesn’t have to always be deep, but its still a part of you. Example, I love black everything, black clothes, shoes, décor, jewelry…everything. Because I was told I look like the walking dead so much I begin to wear other colors so that I would not be ridiculed. That was not the real me. I might not seem like a big deal, but I started to see myself more as a character than as an individual. I became a walking character that others add to, and in that I lost myself. It started off as something so small, yet it an issue that spiraled into other areas.

I even began to internalize the words of others even though they were harmful to me. Before I knew it the majority of my person was created by the expectations and ridicule of others. I just wanted to be able to be present in spaces without the scrutiny. That was accomplished; however, it was at the cost of my person. I was not foreign to myself.  The heartbreaker is, most of the people that are defining who you are negatively will not be present to help put you back together when the false identity implodes…and it will. You can only be a stranger to yourself for so long.

You are an individual and that is beautiful. Take time to know the truth of you and then let those that mean you well help add to it. A very dear sister of mine helped me realize my love for black is okay because it’s who I am. She is also the reason I came to realize I like splashes of color against my beloved black. Again, this is something simple, but as you settle into yourself there will be strong people that will value you as is and introduce you to things you can choose to incorporate. All of this leads to living in truth and living out loud. Even when it is not popular and unvalidated by some…its validated by you and that is want matters. More people will gravitate towards the real you than you dealing with people that only want a shell of you. You deserve to know yourself and like that person.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.