Releasing the Limits Placed on Me as a Little Black Girl

Hey Gorgeous,

This one is close to my heart — and to the heart of the little girl I once was.

I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone, and expectations were tight, like the walls of a box I was never meant to stay in. I was a little Black girl with big dreams, a wild imagination, and a spirit that craved expansion. But the world around me — shaped by narrow beliefs, unspoken rules, and the weight of history — tried to tell me who I could and couldn’t be.

I was taught, without anyone always saying it directly, that I needed to quiet myself. That I should blend in. Be "grateful." Be "appropriate." Be careful not to outshine, not to take up too much space. And I started to believe that being bold, creative, different — being me — was too much.

Because of the color of my skin, and because of the town I grew up in, there were invisible walls built around what I was supposed to want. What I was allowed to imagine for myself. How far I could go. What kind of woman I could grow into.

And for a while, I accepted those walls. Not because I believed they were right — but because I didn’t yet know how to break them down. I didn’t have the words. I didn’t have the examples. I didn’t have the mirrors that showed me what was possible.

But here’s what I know now: Those limits were never mine to carry.They were never my truth.They were projections — built on fear, control, and a long history of silencing brilliance that looks like mine.

As I got older, I started asking deeper questions:

What if I don’t need to prove myself to anyone to be worthy?

What if the parts of me that were once called “too much” are actually my power?

What if taking up space is not only okay, but necessary — for me, and for the little girls watching?

Unlearning those early beliefs has been a journey. Some days it still is. But I’ve learned to look back at that younger version of myself — the curious, bright-eyed girl with all her questions and her hope — and say to her:

"You were never too much.

You were never dreaming too big.

You were just surrounded by people who couldn’t see what you were made of."

And I’m still learning to speak more kindly to her. To honor her. To show her what freedom looks like now — in the way I live, the way I create, and the way I refuse to make myself small anymore.

If you’ve ever felt boxed in because of where you come from, the color of your skin, or the way the world saw you before you even had a chance to speak — I want you to know: You are not alone.

Your story is not broken & your path is still yours to create.

We can choose a different ending. We can write our own definitions.

We can do it in our own voices, in our own skin, with all the power we were born with.

No more shrinking. No more silence. No more borrowed limits.We are allowed to take up space.

In fact — we were made to.