Dear Younger Me,

I see you. I see that ache you carry, the weight of feeling unseen and trapped. It feels so heavy, doesn’t it? You’re surrounded by people who should protect you, but instead, they make you feel small. A home that doesn’t feel safe, and it hurts in ways that can’t be spoken. I hear you. You feel silenced, hidden in a corner where no one truly hears you, lost between the expectations of others and with the sting of neglect.

Stolen innocence, the abuse that no one stops or acknowledges. But none of this is your fault.Those cutting words that make you doubt your worth, those looks that make you wonder if they’re right. Like maybe you really are just angry, bitter, and undeserving of love or peace. I know they call you a rotten apple and expect you to be grateful for the hurt they inherited and handed down. But they don’t see the wounds beneath, the pain that drives you to lash out, the scars of neglect, and the love that was withheld. They only see the shell and never the child inside that’s aching and unseen.

But I’m here to tell you. They’re wrong. You are so much more than their words, stronger than the brokenness they try to make you carry. You are not their mistakes, You are not bound by your parents mistakes and their past does not define your future. I know how lonely it feels, and I’m sorry it’s like this. I wish it could be different, but I need you to hold on.

I’m grateful you put down that bottle. In that moment of darkness, you chose hope over despair, strength over silence. Remember, surviving was an act of courage; you’re still here.

That anger you feel! That fire in your chest! It’s real, and it’s valid. But don’t let it consume you. Let it keep driving you. Let it remind you of all you’re worth, of the life you’re going to build that has nothing to do with their judgments. You’re the author of this story, not them. They don’t get to write who you are. Not the teachers, not the doubters, Not your parents, Not your grandmother or anyone who has tried to break you down.

Inside you, there’s a strength that nothing can extinguish. It’s there to push you through every dark day, to rise again even when it seems impossible. Each trial is adding to that strength, that courage, that unstoppable spirit they never expected. And just know that one day, you’ll be surrounded by people who truly see you, who understand the battles you’ve fought and celebrate you for every inch of progress.

You’ll walk across a stage at an HBCU, bold and unapologetic, knowing that every ounce of pain only fueled your rise. You’ll stand there as a powerful Black woman who didn’t let anyone else define her, who became everything they said she couldn’t. So keep going, little one. Feed that fire, let it guide you. Be bold. Be unstoppable. Speak up, no matter who tries to silence you, and don’t ever apologize for the woman you’re becoming.

One day, you’ll look back and know that every tear, every struggle, and every moment of anger was part of a journey to becoming unstoppable. And you’ll be so proud of the person you fought to become.

With love and pride,
The Strong Black Woman You’ll Become