The Weight of Being Seen

As an African American woman, you are taught so many things about how you are supposed to move through the world. Much of that education is for your own safety. Still, part of that teaching can feel as though it is designed not only to protect you, but to contain you—to separate you from people who don’t understand you and from those you have not been given space to understand. You are conditioned to look a certain way, react a certain way, be passionate about certain things, and want certain things. And in the midst of all these “requirements” placed on your being, it becomes very easy to lose yourself in what is expected of you and forget your own individuality.

Maybe this is why, as I sit here thinking about my next post, next poem, next castle, sharing myself still feels complicated. How much of myself am I truly willing to risk sharing? Or maybe the better question is: how much of myself has the world earned the right to know?

In choosing the name for this site, I was thinking more about moving into my own power, straightening my own crown, and being true to myself. At the time, I did not consider that some might see it as culturally significant. What it means to me may not resonate with others in the same way. Now, I find myself asking how much that matters to me. Does calling myself a “Black Queen” mean I also have to carry the stereotypes and teachings I grew up under?

Growth is hard when you are trying to stay true to who you are while also feeling safe in a space you have created for yourself. Maybe part of that growth is learning that authenticity does not require full access. Maybe being true to myself is not about handing every piece of me to the world, but about choosing with intention what I share and what I keep sacred. There are parts of me that are still becoming, still healing, still learning how to stand on their own. Not everything hidden is dishonest, and not everything protected is fear.

And when I am ready, what I choose to share is not an invitation for judgment. This space—my sacred space—is where I feel safest, where I choose to let the quietest parts of myself be seen. Those who cannot understand that, or do not know how to cherish it, are not welcome to remain. Because above all else, I choose myself and my right to be exactly who I choose to be.