He came over to put together a vanity.

Someone I spent 6 months with in the past- not quite together, not quite not. We had developed real feelings, the kind that make you think maybe this is turning into something. But like anything built on a weak foundation, it eventually began to crack.

So when he showed up with a screwdriver and an afternoon to spare, after 6 months of not speaking, it felt like something. Familiar. Almost tender.

Until he said it.

That my “mouth” was the problem. The men in our neighborhood think I’m pretty, but they don’t pursue me because I always have something to say.

I waited until he left before I let myself feel it. Then I went out, had one too many glasses of wine, and tried to keep it at arm’s length for a few more hours.

It didn’t work. It never does.

Because he wasn’t the first.

My ex-husband said the same thing…not gently, but like something he wanted to stick. A woman I know said it too. I mostly dismissed her, but words like that find the doubt already living in you and move right in.

Three people. Different years. Same verdict.

So you start doing the math that shame does best. Adding up every failed relationship, every unanswered text, every door that quietly closed. By the time the hangover sets in, the case against yourself feels airtight.

But here’s what stopped me.

I asked him for an example. One moment. One thing I said.

He couldn’t give me one.

Neither could my ex-husband. Neither could she.

Three people. The same criticism, delivered with enough certainty to rearrange how I saw myself. And not one of them could point to a single moment.

What do you do with a verdict that has no evidence?

I’m not sure yet. But I think the question is worth something.

The Honest Look Inward

Sometimes defense comes up fast, and sometimes it lands harder than intended. I’m curious, opinionated, and expressive. My thoughts are not always needed. I can accept that kernel of truth. Fair enough.

A Mind, Not a Problem

I think it began as armor, built over time for good reasons, by someone who never felt consistently emotionally safe. 

Some of it is defense. Survival. I can own that. But some of it is just who I am. I was raised to be curious, to read, to think, to engage. Education does that to you. It fills you with questions and opinions and the desire to turn things over and look at them from every angle. That’s not a character flaw. It’s just a mind that’s been fed. I don’t spew thoughts out of thin air, but I also don’t hold back when challenged. 

I’m thoughtful and unafraid.

The Bloom and the Storm

How women, particularly those who’ve had to be strong, get penalized for the very coping mechanisms that protected them. The “too much” label is a way of avoiding accountability for the people doing the dismissing.

There is a particular tax levied on women of color who take up space with their minds and their voices. We are handed a stereotype before we open our mouths as aggressive, angry, difficult, and then blamed for fulfilling it when we dare to defend ourselves. Femininity, as the world has defined it, is supposed to be quiet. Agreeable. Soft. A woman with opinions is a problem to be managed

But nature didn’t get that memo.

The same force that grows flowers will level everything in its path with a tornado. Softness and power don’t cancel each other out. They come from the same source.

And yet we are asked, constantly, to be the bloom and never the storm, even when the storm is the only thing that kept us standing.

The comment was not that I am rude or mean. Only, that I always have something to say.

In grad school, I remember reading an excerpt from Audre Lorde that immediately resonated with me. She said,

“And when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed, but when we are silent we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.”

And I Will Keep Speaking

If you’ve never had a relationship, romantic, friendship, or familial, where you felt consistently safe enough to put the armor down, then the armor just becomes how you move through the world. You’ve always had your own back. That’s not a personal failing. That’s survival.

But here’s what I’ve decided.

I shouldn’t have to back down when I’m challenged, dismissed, or disrespected. I shouldn’t have to shrink when a boundary is crossed or when I simply have something to say. That’s not damage talking. That’s self-respect.

The question was never really “why do I always have something to say?” The deeper question is, who am I saying it to?

Because some rooms were never built for my voice. Some people will always experience my clarity as aggression, my  opinions as attitude, and my boundaries as a problem. And that isn’t mine to fix.

The work isn’t silence. It’s discernment.

Speak. But know my audience. Save my words for the people and spaces that are actually aligned with who I am. Not everyone who has an opinion about my voice deserves to hear it.

I will always have something to say.

I’m just getting more selective about the room.