You deserved to be shielded, nurtured, and fiercely loved. These words are for the girl you were and the woman you are becoming. They
You deserved to be shielded, nurtured, and fiercely loved. These words are for the girl you were and the woman you are becoming.
They hated the power in me before I even knew I had it—but I know now. And I guard it like gold.
I do not need their approval. I never did. I am not here to be palatable—I am here to be whole.
Every time they overlooked me, underestimated me, or erased me—I became harder to break.
I was never ugly. I was never “too dark.” I was never “too much.” They just couldn’t handle my shine.
I carry the rage of every little Black girl who sat quiet in the corner, waiting to be saved. Now we save ourselves.
Even surrounded by hate, I remained a source of light. That is divine. That is me.
The lies they told about me can’t live here anymore. My truth is louder. My truth is sacred.
I was born deserving of tenderness, softness, and safety. That has never changed.
I survived the fire of being unprotected. And now I am the fire—lit with purpose, not pain.
The world tried to dim me from every side. But I keep rising like the sun. I keep rising like the girls they tried to destroy.
I should have been protected, and the failure to do so was never my fault.
My pain was real, even when they ignored it. And now, I honor it by healing.
I deserved safety. I deserved care. I deserved love without condition.
I am no longer ashamed of what happened to me. I am proud of how I survived.
I release the lies they told me about my worth, my voice, and my body.
My story doesn’t end with what they did to me. It begins with what I choose to do now.
I no longer carry the burden of their silence, their excuses, or their neglect. That weight was never mine.
The girl I was deserved to be defended. I defend her now—with wisdom, rage, and radical love.
I am allowed to grieve what I didn’t get. And I am allowed to build a new life full of everything I deserve.
Every time I protect myself, I rewrite the ending. I am my own sanctuary now.
They were supposed to show up for you—and they didn’t. But your story is still unfolding, and this time, you are in control. You carry the wisdom of your wounds and the softness they tried to strip from you.
You are not too damaged. You are not too late. You are a living prayer, a continuation of every Black woman who rose before you without protection and still made magic. Now you are free to build boundaries, tell your truth, and love yourself without apology.
And that freedom? That is protection. That is power. That is yours.
