Dear, Bee - And Every Little Girl Just Like Me.

Well, well, well .... look who's finally found something to say …

(Missed you too.)

As the recognition of Black History Month comes to an end and the celebration of Women's History Month begins - I find myself at the center of a crossroad. Ah, to be a woman … a Black woman. Each day, it feels like a new layer is being peeled back on the ways in which I was taught to understand the world and the ways in which I viewed myself as a part of it.

Reflecting on the drama-filled days of my youth - as a woman who knows a little more than she did then, I thought "If you could go back and meet or talk to your younger self, what would you say? What would you do? Would you warn her of the life that was to come, all of the triumphs and all of the massive L's that turned into the most necessary of lessons? Knowing all that you know now, if you could look back at who you were - would you change anything?"

The reality is, sitting with the idea of my younger self understanding that I would become who I am today almost makes me emotional. I had to think really hard about what I would say to that little girl who had all of these big dreams and aspirations but truly never felt - enough. Not pretty enough, not "cool" enough, not "desired" enough, not talented enough, not skinny enough, truly just never enough. Resulting in a self-esteem and confidence that didn't even begin to breathe it's first breath until I was 20 years old and in my 3rd year of college. Insane, right?

What do I wish she would've known? What do I wish she would have understood? The opportunities that she missed out on or the chances she didn't take because she didn't feel like "she" could or should. All of the jokes at her expense that she internalized, all of the insecurities setting up a permanent home within her being.

I think about the younger version of me and it makes me sad because I played small for so long convinced that "small" was what I was meant to be. I didn't look like the girls around me and the boys weren't necessarily running in my direction. I got comfortable with falling into the background of things and preferred it there because I truly did not think I belonged anywhere else even though in my heart of hearts, I was suffering. There are so many things I want to tell her, so many things I wish she could've seen within herself.

I think about all of the ways in which I was so "anti-me" for the larger majority of my life and how most of it was because of ideals that highlighted everything that wasn’t me. The ways in which that little bit of attention can make or break your self-esteem and the ways in which we move in this world dong all of the things to attract it. Being told that without it, something is wrong with us.

Truthfully, the only reason this reality is no longer my case is because of the countless women I've been blessed to know over the last couple of years who've spoken love and support into me forcing me to see myself in all of the ways that I never could. Creating this inner sense of Queendom that you see before you. It was all through the love of other women …

Man, God Bless WOMEN.

I say all of this to say, in the words of famed author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - "We teach girls to shrink themselves. To make themselves smaller." and I retort "That’s done. It’s over." I wish little Bee could've caught a glimpse of who she was bound to become. I wish she would've dared to be outside the confines of who she thought she needed to be.

So I ask again - if you had the chance to meet little _____, what would you say? Would you change a thing?

I’m always thinking about the ways in which I really want this next generation of little girls to be so different and how they already are. They dare to be outspoken, they see beauty in themselves in a way we never did, they have anthems like “Brown Skin Girl” and they have a carefree joy that God himself must’ve instilled. They simply dare to be.

I aspire.

So, in light of Women’s History Month …

Dear Bee, small is a part you’ll play no more. Small is a part that your daughters and their daughters will never know … “Here's to strong women, may we know them. May we be them. May we raise them."