The Invisible Black Woman

Let’s talk about what happens when the fog lifts.

You ever notice how some folks were a whole lot nicer to you when you didn’t quite have your footing? When your boundaries were bendable, your decisions were deferred, and your voice stayed muted for the sake of peace?

Back then, you were easier to manage. To manipulate. To mold.

But now? You’re clear. You’re confident. You’re no longer confusing approval with alignment or silence with strategy. And for the folks who benefited from the old you, the one who second-guessed herself just enough to stay small, your growth is a problem.

Not because you’ve wronged them. But because you’ve awakened.

Let’s be honest: confusion can be a convenient playground for control. When you’re uncertain, you’ll ask more questions. You’ll hesitate before saying no. You’ll weigh their needs before your own because you’re not sure you’re allowed to prioritize yourself.

And some people, intentionally or not, will exploit that pause.

But clarity? Clarity wrecks shop. Clarity makes people nervous.

When you walk into a room knowing exactly what you bring and what you won’t tolerate, it rearranges the dynamics. That same suggestion that used to sway you? Now it gets questioned. That same guilt trip? Now it hits a dead end. That same pattern? Interrupted.

Because clarity is disruptive.

And I want you to know, if people start calling you “difficult,” “hard to work with,” “too much,” or “not a team player,” it’s not always a reflection of your behavior. Sometimes, it’s just their grief over losing access to the version of you that made their lives easier at your expense.

That grief ain’t yours to fix.

Let them mourn the version of you that no longer exists. Let them adjust. Let them spin. But don’t you dare shrink back to make them comfortable again.

Because your clarity is not up for negotiation.

Not when you’ve fought this hard to find it. Not when it’s cost you nights of overthinking, cycles of self-doubt, and years of playing nice just to be accepted in spaces that still refused to see you.

You’ve earned this clarity. With every boundary set, every toxic tie severed, and every truth spoken—no matter how shaky your voice was when you said it.

So if it ruffles feathers? Let ‘em flutter.

If it clears rooms? Enjoy the space.

If it shifts relationships? Trust the alignment.

You weren’t made to be manageable. You were made to be whole.

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