The Invisible Black Woman

Whew. Let’s talk about it.

There’s this unspoken job description a lot of us carry, especially as Black women. Somewhere along the way, we were taught to be the fixer, the comforter, the peacemaker, the reliable one, the person who “got it” no matter what was going on. Family depends on you. Coworkers lean on you. Friends look to you as the strong one. And if we’re honest, sometimes we’ve leaned into that identity so hard we forget the toll it takes.

The problem? You cannot keep pouring from yourself without replenishment and expect to remain whole. What starts off as pride—being dependable, being the one people can always call—quickly turns into depletion. You wake up one day realizing you’ve traded away pieces of yourself to keep other people intact.

Being everything to everybody means neglecting the one person you’re actually responsible for: you.

And here’s the truth: wholeness takes boundaries. Saying no. Letting that call go to voicemail. Walking away from opportunities that promise exposure but only offer exploitation. Choosing peace over people-pleasing.

Boundaries feel uncomfortable at first, like guilt knocking at the door dressed in disappointment. You’ll hear, “You’ve changed.” You’ll hear, “You’re not as available as you used to be.” But what they’re really saying is, “You’re not breaking yourself to meet my needs anymore.” And that is not your problem to solve.

When you hold onto your wholeness, you hold onto your power. You stop dimming your brilliance to make other people comfortable. You stop cutting yourself down into bite-sized pieces so everybody can get a taste. And instead, you stand tall in your fullness. Your brilliance. Your peace. Your joy intact.

Think of it this way: when you walk into a room whole, you don’t need to audition for love, acceptance, or validation. You are the value. You are not a discount. You are not a “maybe later.” You are not a utility to be consumed until you run out.

That’s what boundaries do: they keep you from running out of yourself.

So today, ask yourself: where are you leaking pieces of you? Where are you carrying the weight of everybody else’s expectations while ignoring your own needs? What would it look like to stop giving everything away, and instead, start holding some of that love, that energy, that brilliance for yourself?

Because you can’t be everything to everybody and still be whole. And you deserve wholeness.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the amazing creature you are.