Dear Diary: My Life Raising Brown Girls

When I think about my childhood, I see a life shaped by absence, fragmented love and resilience, by love that was there and love that wasn’t. Growing up as the daughter of a teen mother who was not around for several reasons and an absent father left me with questions, gaps, and a quiet longing that followed me into adulthood. The lessons I learned were not always gentle they were forged in moments of separation, uncertainty, and the constant balancing act of holding myself together while waiting for guidance and care. Those early experiences didn’t just shape my childhood. They continue to influence how I navigate relationships, trust, and my own sense of self. I’ve realized that the way I seek love, handle conflict, and even measure my worth often traces back to the patterns and voids I carried. I found myself searching for validation in places that weren’t always healthy, trying to fill a space left empty by absence. But reflection has shown me another side of the story. Those exp...

Some stories begin with love. Mine began with absence, resilience, and a young mother who was still learning how to live while trying to raise me. This is my journey through pain, purpose, and the kind of love that grows from survival the story of what it means to be the daughter of a teen mother and an absent father. No one could have prepared me for being the daughter of a teen mother and an absent father. No one could have prepared me for the obstacles, the journey, or the emotional and mental effects it would have on me both as a child and even now, as an adult. I wasn’t ready for the heartache, the breakdowns, the letdowns, or the tears. I wasn’t ready for how deeply it would shape me. There were days it felt like I was walking through fire barefoot, with no one to carry me, no one to shield me from the burn. I know God has a plan and a purpose for my life. I’ve always believed that. But for years, it seemed as though my life was destined for destruction. Every path I took seeme...

Have you ever wondered why certain things happen?  Why no matter how hard you try to live right,  to do good by others, to love, to forgive, life still throws storms your way? Have you ever felt like everything keeps happening to you, but nothing seems to happen for you? Have you ever looked around and whispered,  How did I get here?  Not out of curiosity, but out of exhaustion. How did I get here? To this place where my heart feels heavy and my hope feels thin. Where I’ve done everything I thought was right and still feel like I’m standing in the wrong place. I’ve asked that question more times than I can count. I’ve asked it in the dark, with tears soaking my pillow. I’ve asked it in prayer, hands raised but my spirit sinking. I’ve asked it in silence, when words couldn’t carry the weight of what I felt. And the truth is, I don’t always get an answer. But sometimes, in the quiet after the crying, I feel something stir, a whisper that says,  You’re still her...

I am the mountain  sounds powerful. To some, it sounds like a symbol of strength, stillness, and endurance. But when I say I am the mountain , I do not think of those things. I think of struggling, sacrifice and more. I think of being and feeling stuck. I think of standing in my own way. I have endured and overcome a lot on this journey of life, and yet I am still the mountain. Mistrust, worthlessness, anxiety, and hopelessness are the rocks that build me. They make me feel like I am my own barrier. They are the walls I cannot seem to climb. I am the mountain that prevents me from living the life I want. I am the mountain that stands between me and love. I am the mountain that stands between me and God. When mistrust and hopelessness mix, the weight of it is hard to describe. It’s like standing at the base of myself, unable to see a way up. The fog of my fears, being anxious, feeling stagnant, feeling hopeless, unlovable and unworthy makes it hard to find the path. I have prayed, ...

Let’s talk about something that keeps coming up and frankly, needs to stop. Every time a young person acts out, there’s this knee-jerk reaction to blame the parent specifically the single parent. It's a narrative that’s not only outdated, but flat-out harmful. And as a single parent myself, I’ve had enough of it. Let’s be clear, being a single parent does not cause bad behavior. I’m always baffled by how quickly society rushes to point fingers at single-parent households when kids struggle. It’s as if one parent automatically equals a broken home, and that simply isn’t true. I know countless single parents myself included whose children are thriving. They’re respectful, responsible, ambitious, and full of potential. Why? Because what really matters isn’t the number of adults in a household it’s the love, consistency, support, and stability that child receives. Yes, it can be hard doing it all on your own. But single parents are showing up every day, doing the work, and raising amaz...