A Black Girl Wrote This

Giving “Grace” doesn’t mean letting them folk play in your face. When you know better, you do better.

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Frens,
I may tell you a joke but… well… you know the rest

They told you to take the high road.
To turn the other cheek.
To forgive without apology.
To “be the bigger person.”

And so you did.
Over and over.
Until you became so big you were swallowing your own voice.

You called it growth.
You called it maturity.
You called it love.

But it wasn’t any of those things.
It was emotional labor in a dress.
It was performance in the name of peace.
It was people-pleasing wrapped in a healing aesthetic and sprinkled with faux humility.

Because being the “bigger person” without boundaries doesn’t make you evolved.
It makes you resentful. Exhausted. And easy to manipulate.

You’re not glowing—you’re gritting your teeth in silence.

You’re not healed—you’re overexerting in a language that looks like healing but feels like hell.

🔥 The Tea: If your glow-up requires you to keep shrinking yourself to look spiritually superior? That’s not growing, Bookie. That’s gaslighting.
And you’re doing it to yourself.

And the worst part?
They love you like this.

They love when you don’t react.
They love when you “stay graceful.”
They love when you lay your pride down like a doormat and call it emotional intelligence.

Remember Auntie Michelle? “When they go low, we go high.”

But fren—how long are you gonna keep letting people call it “growth” every time you don’t defend yourself?

Because let’s keep it a buck—some of y’all been taking the high road so long you forgot you’re allowed to turn around and say, “Nah. Actually, I’m not taking shit today.”

While we’re out here ascending, they’re staying low on purpose.
And nobody’s calling them immature.
Nobody’s calling them dramatic.

They reserve those labels for you—the one who finally clapped back after five months of swallowing disrespect.

🔥 The Tea: You keep getting applauded for your grace in the face of disrespect—while the people who disrespected you never get held accountable. Make that make sense.

And don’t even get me started on the “friends” who always want you to be the one who lets it slide.

You say, “That didn’t sit right with me,” and here they come:
“It’s not that deep.”
“You know how they are.”
“Don’t let it bother you.”

But it did bother you.
It hurt.
It triggered something.
It crossed a line.

And the fact that they expect you to abandon yourself to keep the vibe right?

Yeah. That’s not your friend.
That’s a comfort-seeker using your silence as protection.

So… Sorry Auntie… sometimes you gotta take it to Timbuktu so folks finally learn to stop playing with you. (That was not meant to rhyme, but we move.) LOL!

Grace is not a get-out-of-consequences-free card. Sometimes “the high road” is how they keep you quiet—and comfortable to disrespect.

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When “Being the Bigger Person” Becomes Your Cage

You weren’t born to be the bigger person.
You were taught to be.
Conditioned to be.
Expected to be.

Because somewhere along the way, “maturity” became code for emotional silence.
“Grace” became code for self-erasure.
And “healing” became performance art—where your discomfort made everyone else feel safer.

Especially if you’re a Black woman?

You already know how this goes.

You’re expected to forgive first.

To hold your tongue.
To keep the peace—even when it’s killing your spirit.
To never clap back, never call it out, never match the disrespect.
To rise above—while they stay below and still get handed softness.

They told you being the bigger person was ‘strength’.

But let’s be honest—it was survival.
It was protection.
It was spiritual people-pleasing, repackaged as righteousness.

Because the moment you stop playing gracious?
You’re “bitter.”
You’re “petty.”
You’re “angry.”
You’re “unhealed.”

🔥 The Tea: Being the bigger person only feels honorable when it’s a choice. When it’s an expectation, it becomes a prison.

And this is where humble culture sneaks in:
That toxic little voice that tells you not to speak up because “it’s not that deep.”
The shame you feel for defending yourself.
The guilt you carry for walking away instead of praying it gets better.
The discomfort you have around boundaries because somewhere in your spirit, you still believe you’re only lovable when you’re digestible.

Let’s name it plainly:

They’re not praising you for being the bigger person—they’re praising you for being easy to ignore.

Because humility was never meant to mean invisible.
And grace was never supposed to mean disrespected.
But that’s what it’s turned into.
And baby, if you keep calling this healing, you’re gonna glow yourself right into a grave of silence.

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✍🏾 The Journal Work

“Why Do I Keep Choosing the High Road?”

You say you’re “protecting your peace.”
You say you’re “choosing healing.”
You say it’s “not worth the energy.”

But let’s really talk about it.

Who told you that being silent made you stronger?
Who benefits when you choose grace over honesty?
When did you decide that speaking up made you difficult?

Because some of y’all are calling it growth, but it’s really fear.
Fear of being called bitter.
Fear of being called messy.
Fear of being labled
Fear of people walking away when they see you actually have boundaries.

But here’s the truth:
Peace that requires your silence isn’t peace—it’s performance.
Healing that requires your self-abandonment isn’t healing—it’s people-pleasing.

So, let’s write. Let’s snatch the lies out of our journals and bring the truth to light.

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🖊 Journal Prompts:

• When did I first learn that speaking up = being difficult?
• What am I afraid will happen if I stop taking the high road?
• Who in my life expects me to be “the bigger person” at my own expense?
• What version of me am I still trying to protect by staying quiet?
• What’s one situation I should have spoken up in, but didn’t? Why?

🔥 The Tea: You’re not tired because you’ve outgrown them. You’re tired because you keep pretending grace is more important than truth—and your nervous system is calling bullshit.

“This Isn’t Grace. It’s Self-Abandonment.”

Let’s make one thing very clear:
This isn’t growth.
This isn’t grace.
This isn’t healing.

This is self-abandonment with lipgloss and a flawless beat.

Because every time you silence yourself to “keep the peace,” what you’re really doing is:

• Abandoning your needs for someone else’s comfort.
• Choosing to be digestible instead of being heard.
• Lying to yourself in the name of “not being petty/angry.”

But if you’re being real?
You’re not being noble.
You’re just the one who cares the most.
You’re just the one willing to eat the discomfort so the room doesn’t feel tension.
You’re the one everyone expects to bend—because you always do.

🔥 The Tea: They don’t praise your grace because it’s holy. They praise it because it keeps them from being held accountable.

And it’s not just them—it’s you too.

You’ve been calling it “choosing peace” when really?
It’s been you refusing to name your anger.
Refusing to acknowledge betrayal.
Refusing to say “I’m hurt” because you think your pain makes you weak.

But newsflash, fren:
Your anger is not the enemy.
Your honesty is not a betrayal.
Your boundaries are not aggression.

And grace?

Grace without truth is just another cage you built to avoid confrontation.

So stop telling people, “It’s okay” when it wasn’t.
Stop clapping for your “growth” when what you really did was abandon your voice—again.

This isn’t emotional maturity.
It’s emotional martyrdom.

And you deserve better than being everyone’s safe space while no one ever asks if you feel safe.

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“How to Exit Humble Culture Without Setting Yourself on Fire”

You don’t owe anyone your silence in exchange for peace.
You don’t have to keep being the “bigger person” just to look emotionally mature while you’re secretly falling apart.

If you’re ready to stop clapping for your own self-abandonment and start choosing you—here’s how we begin.

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✔️ Step 1: Stop trying to be palatable.

You are not here to be bite-sized.
You are not here to be easy to digest.
You are not a sip of water for people choking on your boundaries.

Say what you mean.
Take up space when something stings.
Be real—even if it makes the room uncomfortable.

People treat you how you allow them to. Make sure they know from jump.

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✔️ Step 2: Set the boundary—and let them feel it.

You don’t have to soften the blow.
You don’t have to apologize for the line you drew.

Say:
“I’m not okay with that.”
“I don’t have the capacity.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
Full stop. Let the silence sit. Let the discomfort do what it came to do.

🔥 The Tea: If your peace requires you to shrink, it’s not peace—it’s manipulation, with incense.

✔️ Step 3: Let go of the “bigger person” performance.

Every time you suppress your feelings to “rise above,” ask yourself: “Who am I protecting? And why do they need me to be silent to feel safe?”

Sometimes silence is strength.
Other times?
It’s you abandoning your damn self—again.

We’re not her anymore. Playing small does NOTHING for your life.

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✔️ Step 4: Redefine what maturity looks like.

Maturity is not shutting up and letting people hurt you.
Maturity is not swallowing rage and calling it grace.
Maturity is knowing when to walk away with your dignity intact.

You’re allowed to say: “I’m not rising above this. I’m just done with it.”

This is people. This is jobs. This is relationships. This is EVERYTHING.

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✔️ Step 5: Let go of the fear that being real will cost you everything.

Because maybe it will.

Maybe the people who only loved your softness will leave when they meet your truth.

Let them.

Your real tribe will never require your silence to stay in your life.
Your healing doesn’t need an audience—it needs honesty.

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You Don’t Have to Burn Down the Room to Leave It

This isn’t a call to war.
This isn’t “clown everybody at first glance.”
This is get you some fucking boundaries. (Go ahead and write that down, it’s a whole book.)

This is the moment you stop applauding yourself for how quiet you can be when someone’s crossing your line.

You’re not required to offer silence in the name of peace.
You’re not required to be the bigger person when the real issue is they’ve never been held accountable.

You are allowed to walk away.
To say no.
To say “this hurt” without softening the blow.

You don’t have to throw hands.
You don’t have to burn bridges.
You don’t have to “go low.”

But you do need to get honest about what it’s costing you to keep staying high in rooms where your peace keeps getting taxed.

Send the fucking email when your job plays in your face.
Send the fucking text when somebody got you messed up.
Tell whoever needs to hear it that you’re not the one, OR the two. Respectfully.

And if we need to go over how to say it in 9–5 email language?
Baby, we can do that too. 😌💅🏾

Because no more shrinking yourself to keep the space you’re in.
If the space requires you to be small to stay in it?

Then fuck the space.

🔥 The Tea: Choosing yourself isn’t petty. It’s sacred. And if they call it dramatic, let them—drama queens still live soft and unbothered.

💬 Join the Conversation:

• When did I start confusing silence with strength?
• Who am I constantly “rising above” for—and why?
• What does boundary-setting look like in my life right now?
• Where in my life am I calling it grace, but it’s really self-betrayal?

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🌱 Affirmation of the Day:

I don’t owe anyone my silence in exchange for peace.
I can choose grace and still choose myself.
My boundaries are sacred. My voice is valid. My truth deserves volume.

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Today’s post is for the girls who’ve been “the bigger person” so long they forgot what honesty sounds like. If your version of healing still requires you to be silent, digestible, and overly gracious, this one’s for you.