The Invisible Black Woman

We live in a world that glorifies saying yes. Yes to opportunities. Yes to meetings. Yes to collaborations. Yes to people who don’t pour into us but still expect our time, energy, and presence. The cultural script tells us that every invitation is an open door we should be grateful for. That declining is risky—that it makes us look ungrateful, arrogant, or even self-sabotaging.

But here’s the truth: not every invitation deserves your attendance.

There are invitations designed to honor you, uplift you, and place you in rooms that stretch your capacity in the best ways. Those invitations remind you of your worth and create space for your voice to matter. They’re aligned with your goals, your spirit, and your peace. These are the invitations that nourish.

And then there are the others.

The invitations that are more about what others can extract from you than what you can genuinely offer or gain. The ones that ask you to show up for people who don’t clap for you, who diminish your brilliance, or who only remember your name when they need a task done. These invitations masquerade as opportunity, but what they really are is distraction, manipulation, or even exploitation.

And the cost? Your time. Your energy. Your peace.

When you attend every table you’re invited to, you run the risk of losing yourself in the noise of other people’s agendas. Before you know it, your calendar is full but your spirit is empty. You’re constantly present for others while absent from yourself. And let me tell you—being absent from yourself is the most expensive RSVP you can ever make.

So how do you discern which invitations are worth attending?

You check your body. Does the thought of saying yes make your chest tighten, or does it bring ease? You check your alignment. Does this move you closer to your purpose, or does it pull you sideways into somebody else’s drama? You check your peace. Because peace is priceless—and if the RSVP costs you that, it’s already too expensive.

Sometimes protecting your peace means hitting “decline” with no explanation attached. Sometimes it means walking away from the table altogether and creating your own. And sometimes, it means recognizing that the invitation was never meant for you. It was bait, not honor.

This isn’t arrogance. This is wisdom. This is stewardship of your most valuable resource: you.

Because not every invitation deserves your attendance. And that’s not just okay, it’s necessary.

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