That rule deserves examination, because most of us have never once questioned it.

Consider what happens when her name surfaces in the phone. A small tug in the chest, guilt braided into relief, and then the thumb keeps moving. Life got busy on both ends, we tell ourselves. It is a tidy explanation and it lets everybody off the hook, which is precisely why we reach for it.

Sit with the thing honestly and something less flattering comes up. The longing is not for her. It is for who the two of you were together, back when everybody was broke and hopeful and sleeping on somebody’s floor after a party that ran too late.

Those are not the same thing.

We were raised on the idea that time served is the highest credential a person can hold. Twenty years. Since sixth grade. Since we were pregnant at the same time. Since her mama used to feed you when yours was working doubles. All of that is real, and none of it should be treated like nothing. History is a kind of intimacy. Somebody who knew you before your credit was good, before the degree, before the title on the door, holds a version of you that nobody else can access. That matters. It just does not settle the question of whether she still belongs in your Tuesday evenings.

Somewhere along the line we started treating longevity like it was proof of love. It is not. It is proof of time, which is a different animal entirely, and grown women are sitting in relationships that scrape them raw because walking away feels like turning your back on the girl you were at nineteen. So let me say the thing nobody said to us. Old does not mean well. A thing can last thirty years and still be lopsided, still leave you sitting in the car after brunch with the engine off, wondering why your jaw hurts.

Black women in particular carry a specific weight here, and I think we should be honest about where it came from. Black communities have long survived by holding on to one another. You did not put nobody out. You made a way for your cousin, your play sister, the girl from down the street whose house was not safe. Community was not a lifestyle choice. It was infrastructure. That instinct is beautiful and it kept us alive. But an instinct built for survival does not always translate cleanly into a life you are trying to build on purpose. Keeping everybody made sense when everybody was all you had. It makes considerably less sense when one of those somebodies has spent a decade making you feel small.

There is also the accusation, the one that lives rent free in the back of a Black woman’s mind whenever she considers stepping back. She think she better than us. Four words that have kept more sistas stuck than any lease ever did. We are terrified of being called bougie, uppity, changed up, brand new. So the phone gets answered at eleven at night. The same story about the same man gets a fresh round of listening. And when the joke comes, the one with our name in it, the one that lands harder than she pretends, we laugh. That is just how she is, we say, and we take another sip.

Try it from another angle. Declining to shrink is not the same as thinking you are better than somebody. Neither is wanting to spend your one Saturday in a room where people are glad you walked in. Anybody who needs you a little bit wounded so that they can feel level with you is not loving you. They are managing you.

You know the ones I am talking about. The woman who only surfaces when something has gone wrong in her life and vanishes when things go right in yours. The one who greets your good news with a joke about how you have been acting funny. The one who liked you better when you were struggling because your struggle made hers look like company. The one who has decided, somewhere in her own private hurt, that your progress is a comment on her.

Then there are the endings with nobody to blame. She thinks therapy is white folks’ business and you have been going every other Thursday since your father died. You stopped drinking and every plan she makes still starts at a bar. It took you decades to learn how to say what you actually mean, and she has spent those same decades getting very good at saying it sideways. Neither of you did anything wrong. You just grew into a woman with needs that girl from 1997 never had.

That is worth pausing on. Not every ending requires somebody to be the bad guy. We reach for betrayal narratives because they give us permission, and permission is what we think we need. Here is my argument. You already have it. Adulthood, real adulthood, means you get to choose who has ongoing access to your interior life. Not who deserves access based on past service. Who has it now.

I am not talking about disposing of people. I want to be careful there, because we live in a culture that is quick to cut, quick to block, quick to call every hard conversation toxic and keep it moving. Some connections are worth repairing. Some are worth an honest sit down where you say the uncomfortable thing out loud and give the other woman a chance to meet you. Plenty of relationships survive that. The ones that do come back sturdier than they were.

But some will not survive it, and you have to be prepared for that. Sometimes the release is slow, more of a drift than a decision, a natural fading that neither of you names. Sometimes it is a conversation. Sometimes it is just distance, kept respectfully, without cruelty, without a big announcement.

Grieve it. That is the part people skip. Triumph is not what shows up. What shows up is a hollow hour on a Sunday, a song that drops you into a summer from another decade, a piece of real news that would have gone to her first. Your thumb will hover over the name before the phone goes back on the counter. That ache is not evidence of a mistake. It is evidence the thing was real. Both can be true at once.

What you deserve, at fifty, at forty five, at whatever age you find yourself reading this with a cup of something going cold beside you, is a circle that fits the woman you actually are. Sistas who ask about your work and mean it. People who can hold your joy without flinching. People who tell you the truth kindly and receive yours the same way.

Wanting that is permitted. Building it is permitted. So is leaving behind the parts of your past that will not come with you, and doing it without apologizing to anybody for having grown into somebody worth knowing.

Staff Writer; Jada Williams

This sister writes about politics, money, family, and the issues that shape everyday life… Her work looks at how decisions made in government, changes in the economy, and challenges within our communities affect Black women and their families…

Feel free to email her at: JadaW@ThySistas.com.

Most of my adult years have been spent listening to music for a living, writing about it, arguing about it, loving it past all reason. So let me tell you what that pinch called to mind. Years back a young singer walked me through how a record really gets made. You hear three minutes that sound like they came out of her that easy. What you never hear is the forty takes it took, the tuning software running quietly in the back, the engineer gluing the best word from one pass onto the best breath from another. The song feels true. Making it is a whole different business. Anybody who has spent real time in a studio knows how wide the gap runs between the mix and the moment.

That gap is the thing nobody warns us about online. What scrolls past all day is the mix. Mastered, compressed, sweetened, released. And too many of us, sisters worth loving and admiring, are out here trying to compete with the master when we are still living in the raw session, coffee breath and unpaid bills and a child who woke up cranky. We measure our behind the scenes against everybody else’s highlight reel, then wonder why the spirit sits low.

Beauty is where the trap gets set earliest and tightest for us. Black women have always carried a complicated inheritance around our faces and our hair, and the internet took that old wound and monetized it. Now the standard is not simply a pretty woman. It is a woman with a ring light, a surgeon on retainer, a colorist, a lace front that costs more than a starter car, and an app that quietly shaves an inch off her waist before the picture ever reaches you. Teenage girls and grown women alike stare into that filtered mirror and decide their actual face has failed some exam nobody agreed to sit for. The cruelty is that the face being compared against does not exist. It is a composite. Nobody can lose a race against a woman who was assembled in software.

Then there is the travel. Lord, the travel. The timeline these days runs like a passport stamp parade, one sister in Santorini, another draped across a yacht off some coast the rest of us cannot pronounce correctly, a third posing barefoot in Bali with a caption about healing her feminine energy. A good trip is nothing to begrudge anybody. But there is a difference between going somewhere and performing having gone. Some of what shows up is packaged, comped, or financed on a card that will haunt somebody come March. The whole point of the post is to make an ordinary Tuesday feel like a kind of failure. And it works. A woman who owns her home and raised three decent children can end up feeling small because she has never seen the Amalfi coast. That hunger is manufactured. Somebody sold it to her.

Marriage is where it gets genuinely dangerous. The soft focus proposal videos, the anniversary trips, the man who surprises her with a car and a speech, the caption that reads he is my best friend and my king. Enough wine shared with enough women teaches you the arithmetic here. Some of the couples posting hardest may be struggling in ways the camera never shows. That is not cynicism. It is a reminder that a performance of devotion is not necessarily devotion. Some of those kings are barely home. Some of those queens are crying in the guest bathroom before they wipe their face and shoot the anniversary reel. When a wife starts comparing her quiet, decent, unglamorous husband to a stranger’s edited fairytale, a good marriage can start to feel like a disappointment. That is theft of the highest order, and it happens without a sound.

The gifts are their own small theater. A shoebox full of red bottoms, a birthday table buried under designer bags, jewelry photographed on a hand with a fresh set. It gets presented as love made visible, and maybe sometimes it is. But enough years of watching people teach you something. The loudest displays are rarely the deepest ones. My own mother stayed married forty years to a man who never once bought her a luxury handbag and loved her so thoroughly she still talks to his photograph. Nobody filmed that. It would not have gone viral. It was simply the actual thing, unmixed and unmastered, and it was worth more than every red sole ever manufactured.

Now they have come for motherhood, which grieves the heart most of all. The polished child is a strange new creature. Matching outfits, immaculate nurseries in dusty pink and cream, the toddler who eats organic and never throws his plate, the caption about how motherhood completed her. Meanwhile a true mother somewhere is watching this at two in the morning with spit up on her shoulder, convinced she is failing at the one thing everybody promised would come naturally. There is nothing natural about a photo shoot. Raising a child is exhausting and unphotogenic and holy, and it does not resemble a catalog. Letting the catalog become the measuring stick robs young mothers of the plain truth that struggling is not the same as failing.

My mind keeps going back to Nina, to Anita, to Sade and Jill and Erykah, the women whose voices raised a whole generation of us. What made them undeniable was never being flawless. It was the crack in the note, the hurt you could hear sitting right under all that control. We loved the flaw, we did not just tolerate it. That is the lie the feed keeps selling, that being polished is the point. The best music Black women ever made hit us hard for one plain reason. It never once tried to hide the ache.

So here is what I am learning, slow as it comes at my age. When that pinch shows up, call it what it is. What you see on the screen is a mix, not somebody’s whole life. Put the phone down and go play a record instead, something with a little grit on it. And remember your own days, bills and gray hairs and all, are happening live right now while everybody else is handing you a recording. No shame lives in the raw take. It is the only honest thing any of us has got.

Staff Writer; Raven Jones

Raven writes about music, relationships, and the everyday ups and downs of Black women… She keeps it honest, encourages other sistas, and can be reached at RavenJ@ThySistas.com.

Ladies, wives, moms…THIS MUST STOP! We must realize this behavior is dangerous, and destructive. Balance is a necessity if we want to live happy healthy lives. It’s ok to love our work, significant other, children, church and community…however if you do not include yourself in that equation you are not able to give your best to those whom you love.

When we don’t find a way to relax pressure piles up, and we find ourselves lashing out at our significant other, the kids, our family members or even our co-workers. When someone says Good Morning, and our response is: “what’s good about it”…the matter has gone too far. There are several ways to relax without breaking the bank. It’s vital that we learn how so that we don’t hurt ourselves, and those we love. Sometimes the road to relaxation must begin with acknowledging it is necessary, and that even you have limits. Once we have had some personal breathing time we can see clearer, and even communicate our needs better.

A standing bath time, meditation time, reading time, or indulging in a positive hobby all counts towards relaxation. Working out, walking and spa appointments can meet relaxation needs as we strengthen our temple. This is important because stress and strain on the body can lead to health problems such as high blood pressure. When we begin to feel overwhelmed we leave ourselves open to anxiety attacks, and depression. If not careful any of these can lead to unhealthy weight gain or retention. We all know unhealthy weight gain opens the door to another gauntlet of potential health risks.  It is very important to take care of you consistently so that you can continue to be an active positive asset to every area of your life.

When we have relaxation personal time it allows us better focus, and delivery. When we have issues at home whereby we need our mate to consider making adjustments we are able to communicate calmly, and clearly. We are on edge or ready to pop off causing a fight instead of resolution. When we are dealing with our kids we are able to be fair and even handed even when correcting them. We are able to avoid the fussing and cussing better. Lastly, at work and in other areas we are , focused and able to deliver professionally.  All of our relationships benefit from us taking care of ourselves.

As women there is always more to do. We go to sleep, and wake up, with to do lists but we must take time for ourselves. Know that you are valuable, and you are worth relaxation. Don’t feel guilty, if you can help it, look at it as an investment in self that will bless both you and your family.

Ladies it’s okay to relax.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

But sis, let me say this gently and with love: perimenopause is real, but it is not everything.

Somewhere along the way, it became the go‑to explanation for every ache, every mood shift, every moment of fatigue, every strange sensation we can’t immediately identify. And listen — perimenopause can absolutely cause a wide range of symptoms. Hot flashes, sleep changes, mood swings, irregular cycles, brain fog, joint pain, weight fluctuations — the list is long. But it’s not the root of every single thing our bodies experience. When we start blaming perimenopause for everything, we risk missing the bigger picture. And our health, our longevity, our quality of life are far too important for that.

Part of why this happens is because Black women have had to become our own health detectives. We’ve been dismissed, misdiagnosed, or ignored in medical settings for generations. We’ve learned to self‑diagnose out of survival. We’ve learned to piece together our own answers because the system hasn’t always given us the care, respect, or attention we deserve. So when we finally find a label that seems to fit, it’s tempting to hold onto it tightly. It feels validating. It feels like we finally have language for what we’re going through. It feels like control in a world that often tries to take that from us.

But perimenopause shouldn’t become the default explanation for every shift in our bodies. Not because it isn’t real — it absolutely is — but because our bodies are complex, layered, and constantly communicating with us. If we chalk everything up to hormones, we might overlook signs of something more serious. High blood pressure. Thyroid issues. Autoimmune conditions. Nutrient deficiencies. Chronic stress. Depression. Heart disease. Diabetes. These are real concerns in our community, and they deserve attention, not dismissal.

And let’s be real with each other: sometimes the issue isn’t medical at all. Sometimes it’s lifestyle. Sometimes it’s boundaries we haven’t set. Sometimes it’s rest we haven’t taken. Sometimes it’s emotional weight we’ve been carrying for years. Sometimes it’s habits we know aren’t serving us. Perimenopause didn’t cause all of that — life did. And acknowledging that isn’t shameful. It’s empowering. It means we still have agency. It means we still have choices. It means we can still take accountability for our well‑being without beating ourselves up.

What we don’t want is to use perimenopause as a shield that keeps us from taking responsibility for our health. Not in a harsh, judgmental way — but in a loving, grown‑woman, “I deserve better” way. Because we do deserve better. We deserve to know what’s happening in our bodies. We deserve to ask questions. We deserve to get checked out when something feels off. We deserve to advocate for ourselves without minimizing our symptoms or oversimplifying them.

And we deserve to honor the truth: perimenopause is a chapter, not the whole book.

This season can be confusing, yes. It can be uncomfortable, yes. But it can also be a wake‑up call — a moment to tune in, slow down, and reconnect with ourselves. It can be a reminder that our bodies are evolving, not breaking. That we are entering a new phase of wisdom, power, and self‑awareness. That we are allowed to change. That we are allowed to grow. That we are allowed to take up space in our own health journey.

So, sis, here’s the gentle reminder: listen to your body with curiosity, not assumptions. Don’t ignore symptoms, but don’t rush to label everything as perimenopause either. If something feels persistent, new, or concerning, talk to a qualified healthcare professional who will take you seriously. You deserve that level of care. You deserve answers rooted in truth, not guesswork. You deserve to feel safe in your own body.

And while you’re navigating this season, give yourself grace. Give yourself softness. Give yourself room to grow into this next version of you. Perimenopause is not the end of anything — it’s the beginning of a deeper relationship with your body, your health, and your power.

You are not falling apart. You are transforming. You are stepping into a wiser, more grounded version of yourself. And you’re doing it with the strength, beauty, and brilliance that Black women have always carried. You’ve got this, sis — and you’re not walking through it alone.

Today we live in a society that pushes the validation of one’s feelings about fact and truth. In this space perception is reality, and that’s all that matters. I doesn’t matter of a person really hurts you, that matters is you feel hurt so they need to acknowledge such. The problem with this is it can in turn injury the other party. Yes, if you actually commit hurt you need not tell your significant other you didn’t. However, if you didn’t offend them, and can even prove such, it is very important that you respectful stand in truth. No one should walk around accepting ridicule when they’ve done nothing wrong.

The opposite position states my feelings are indeed my reality, so my partner should respect my truth, and apologize. Your truth is personal to you, and it doesn’t have to line up to any accuracy because it belongs to you. That doesn’t mean that, outside of you, it will stand. It’s very important to have an open line of communication, especially where misunderstanding is concerned, so one truly knows when they are being hurt.

If your partner doesn’t do thing exactly the way you want it, and you use “hurt” to get them to do as you please…you might be giving the hurt you claim you’ve received. Furthermore, this concept is dangerous in the hands of a narcissist. A narcissist will manipulate you into believing you hurt them, and you can’t tell them you did not, when I’m fact they are hurting you. They are the masters of twisting a situation by with they are inflicting harm to they are the victim. In that sense you would need to take a stand, and confront the fact that you are not hurting them regardless of their persuasion otherwise.

No one deserves to be hurt, and disregarded, in a relationship. Yet, no one deserves to be falsely accused and forced to apologize because the feelings of one person is more important that what’s actually taking place in a situation. Furthermore, no one should feel communicating respectfully, but truthfully, for fear of being told they are hurtful. In this space any relationship is in danger. If you committed hurt by all means humble yourself and try to make it right. However, if you didn’t please don’t sit back and become a scapegoat for someone’s feelings. Just as they would deserve better so do you.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

The problem lies with those that would dare use anxiety as a method to harm others. It is despicable to use a real illness as a way to inflict verbal, and even physical damage on others. its’s not a tool for manipulation so that you may always have your way, and woe is it unto those that stand up to tell you that the behavior is wrong. Sisters that use anxiety for these purposes make it hard for those that are actually battling with the illness. Every anxiety attack doesn’t cause you to throw objects at someone, and every trigger is not someone not doing what you want them to do the way you want it done. This behavior is abusive, and in some cases narcissistic.

Some people that have loved ones with anxiety disorder research the illness and go to appointments with them, so they can better understand how to be supportive. If they are taking the time to learn…they may be able to discern real from fake. It is unfortunate when someone with deep anxiety calls out someone for not being genuine in their claim. Don’t use a known illness to deceive and harm others.

Lastly, there are those of us (myself included), that truly suffer from anxiety disorder that have to try to care about our support system. It may be hard, but you know you lashed out during an anxiety attack and hurt someone that love you and was just trying to help…apologize. Its’s not their fault you are battling with anxiety disorder just like it’s not your fault. However, they love you regardless of the disorder. Just because they understand doesn’t mean being the ill placed object of your anger won’t hurt. They may take the abuse because they know you are hurting, and battling with a disorder, but it’s okay to care about their feelings. It is a known fact that the people closest to you will often bare the brunt of your frustration with said disorder. Spouses, children, friends and family usually end up taking the heat. The don’t do so because you are a burden…they are with you because they love you. Don’t forget to love them back.

I had to learn how hurtful my words could be during an anxiety attack depending on the trigger. I realized my best friend who, as an only child, was the only sister I ever had was sinking into depression in part because I berated her so often when dealing with my anxiety. I was pushing away the one person I knew loved me that I could truth. Though I acknowledge my anxiety disorder she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. I had to realize its not all about me, and that I’m not the only person in life going thorough pain. I’ve learned how to better manage my condition, and I take the time to appreciate my sister. I actively love on her, and uplift her…regardless of how I’m feeling. I will never forget that as she was experiencing loss…I wasn’t there for her because all I could see was my anxiety. She never left me alone, and I won’t allow her to alone ever again as long as I’m here.

One way to manage anxiety is trying to get out of your own head. Putting your focus on the people around you, and the positive energy they are pouring into you may actually help you deal with the disorder.

Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James

May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.

We all know that the dignity of a man is an intricate part of who he is, and if we truly understand our man we must know how far we can go with our council. Sometimes, depending on what he is facing, we must allow him to process his situation on his own terms. Let’s be honest as women we are not always the best at this. We often want our spouse to feel better immediately, or we want him to talk about it as soon as possible because that’s what we would do. There are times it’s not even about him, but it makes us feel bad to see him going through hardship, and we want to be relieved of that feeling so we push.

Wanting to see our King happy is positive, but we can’t expect him to behave as we would. Changing a man should never be the goal; we should love him for the man he is…and can be. Sometimes the best support we can give will come through the avenue of prayer and/or meditation. There are times we must direct out strong positive energy towards our husband to help assist his issue resolve and peace. Even though he may be quiet he is very aware of your presence.

Mothers try to fix everything; wives support through everything. If your husband doesn’t talk as much as you would like this is the wrong time to press and cause a fight. When things such as: loss, betrayal, self-doubt, and spiritual conflict occur we cannot fix it. We want our man to know we love, support and lift him up. Let him come to you when he is ready to talk. Don’t make it about you as though he’s mad at you or shutting you out…especially when he tells you he is conflicted and just need some time to get his head together. In this area lets avoid being selfish realizing our men have feelings that need to be respected. This is in no way saying abandon your man when he needs you most.

This is a reminder that we are powerful, but there are limits to our reach even as wives. There are times when time, and meditation must be allowed to work out a matter. In these times we must trust the heart of our spouse, and his strength as a man. You never want to send the message that you don’t believe in his ability to stand through adversity…this is counterproductive to peace. The fact that we cannot fix everything is quite okay.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

Feelings without reason nor understanding can lead to hypocrisy, failed relationships of all sorts, and a false sense of what is and is not right. Personal experience is steeped in feelings, and if not careful how you feel based on your experience can cause the wrongful judgment of others. How many times have we stated “that’s just how I feel” when trying to argue a position? Think about it. Some of us have cursed all men or women to hell because of how we feel. Some have been abused and exposed to toxic behavior because of the way we feel. Sometimes we aren’t able to absorb information that would allow us to make an informed decision, or position, because feelings get in the way. If one isn’t careful feelings will become the lie that one uses to justify why they have behaved in an unfavorable manner. So, you felt disrespected in a space by which you were uninformed and initially disrespectful; when the truth was told it didn’t defend you so it had to be wrong. No, in that moment you were wrong…regardless of your feelings.

How you feel is not a pass to mistreat others. Please take a moment to stop, and re-read that statement. Having a bad day, not feeling well, dealing with past hurt, annoyed with the direction of your life, upset with another, upset with God…regardless of what is wrong, none of these things gives one the right to mistreat another. Emotional intelligence is a very important skill to work on in one’s own personal life, not just at work. There is nothing wrong with getting help to manage feelings and emotions so that you are a more balanced person. The people in your life that love you will appreciate you for taking the time to heal so that you are better for yourself and others.

Feelings can also enforce anti-intellectual positions in various spaces such as places of worship and activism. Age doesn’t always make you right…regardless of your feeling on the matter. Years and feelings are not replacements for objective diverse study of a matter. If you want to argue with someone about religious beliefs you can’t just go on how you feel. You’d need to be able to logically, and rationally back up your position. You can’t expect someone to concede to your position regarding politics or race relations simply because you were alive, and an age of understanding, when Dr. King was alive. You must the time to study, research, and be humble and open enough to hear from others that are doing the work and can add to the discussion. We are never to old to learn more. Titles don’t mean we know it all…even though we might feel like as though we do.

I remember my dad instructing: “get out of your feelings and look at the situation truthfully even if you don’t like it…your dislike doesn’t change the truth”. This is wisdom that I share often. You have a right to your feelings, but your feelings don’t change the truth. Your hurt, anger, embarrassment, fear, or concern doesn’t change the matter. It is important to sees matters and people aside from your feelings. Hear what is said on a matter without hearing it through the filter of your feelings. Read about what is happening in the world around you from an objective perspective. This doesn’t erase your feelings, but it does give you a better chance of being fair with yourself, and others.

Staff Writer; Christian Starr

May connect with this sister over at Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/christian.pierre.9809 and also Twitter; http://twitter.com/MrzZeta.

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.