The Woman I Thought I Had To Be

You were always so polite;

So careful,

you measured every word before you spoke as if your worth hung in the balance.

You smiled when you were breaking.

You gave when you were empty,

You made yourself small just to make others comfortable.

You wore shame like skin,

wrapped it around your body and called it modesty.

I can’t believe you let silence sit in your throat because speaking your truth felt like betrayal.

You thought being good meant being quiet,

that love had to be earned through sacrifice, compliance and endurance.

You were so afraid to be seen because you were taught that vulnerability was weakness,

that anger was ugly and,

that softness made you prey.

You swallowed grief, stifled rage, even hid your fear behind mascara and tight smiles.

Every day, you tried so hard to be palatable,

that you almost disappeared.

But I remember you.

And I honor you,

because you did what you had to do to survive.

However, I am not her anymore.

I have buried the masks.

I have chosen my own voice over their approval.

I no longer trade pieces of myself just to be loved.

I cry in public now.

I laugh too loud.

I say “no” without apology.

I rage when I need to and I rest when I must.

I have grown into a woman who does not beg to be seen but,

one who knows her presence is power.

I do not shape myself to fit the world, I carve space for the truth she carries.

To the woman I thought I had to be,

you were brave.

You have kept me alive.

But now, I get to be free.