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In a session with my therapist, she told me I was safe to come undone. That was powerful. I was “safe” to come undone, to be vulnerable, to release, to let go. And I did just that. I immediately begin to cry because I was holding onto so much pain. Pain from the past that God was revealing to me and pain from the present. How did she know I was holding it in? Is it because she is also a black woman born in a generation before me who have been taught the same detrimental theology? Has she also felt the weight of expectation on her shoulders to take on the burdens of the world with a smile on her face even though it hurts like hell? Never complaining, never wavering, never having a moment to be weak. Why did she have to tell me I was safe to come undone? Simple, I was raised to be a soldier just as she was. My life experience as a child, coupled with my upbringing taught me I had to be hard. That life did not give you the time or the opportunity to become emotional. Simply put, being emotional wasn’t a luxury I could afford. I was the only girl being raised in a house of men. They didn’t do crying or emotions (besides anger), and if I wanted to be accepted then I needed to put on this armor and take whatever life threw my way. Yet still, armor and all, I was labeled as emotional and told how much of a bad thing that was. This is a recurring theme in our culture. It has become customary to teach women that we are too emotional and must be strong all the time. We can never show any weakness; we can’t cry too much… You know the motto, “Be twice as smart, work twice as hard” just to get the same as our counterparts. We are taught not only to be breadwinners and get an education but also to have and raise children, run a whole household, and be a helpmate, helping our spouses with their vision and their purpose. And do it all with a smile. We are expected to work like we don’t have children and raise children like we don’t work. Never taking a break, caring for everyone else besides ourselves. We are the ranking leaders of higher education, entrepreneurship, single parenthood, and heart disease. I don’t think I have met a black woman with children who hasn’t had a ridiculous schedule that seems entirely too much for one person. Maybe this is generationally passed from our ancestors who were forced to be strong as they watched their men beaten and hung and their children snatched away. Only to have to nurse and raise the children of their slave masters. Maybe that’s where this superhuman like soldier strength came from. They also weren’t allowed to be weak, because that would have gotten them killed. But soldiers cry too. This past weekend I was presented with a situation that reminded me of this detrimental ideology that is literally killing us. I was keeping news some bad news away from my eldest daughter. I wanted to present the information to her in an atmosphere that allowed her to feel what she needed to feel, to cry, scream, process, and just become undone. I also needed her to maintain focus as she takes her Milestones, but she accidentally overheard a conversation and found out. So, like any good mother would after I calmed down from being angry about how she found out, I dropped everything to create the atmosphere she needed. I was in the middle of getting ready to go out with my family. I was being rushed, as is custom, but I had to nurse the baby, change her, then change her clothes, dress the 4 year old (which is a fight), make sure my oldest had all her medication and didn’t have on some crazy outfit, pack the baby bag, and try to make myself not look like I was hanging by a thread, although I was. So, when a male in my family kept coming in rushing me knowing what was taking place, I became infuriated. I became infuriated because he was perpetuating the same mindset that I have spent years unlearning. He said to me, “Ok, that is over now, Let’s go.” It took every ounce of the Holy Ghost in me to exhibit self-control and just not completely snap. My daughter broke down, I broke down and we needed that moment to be emotional. But instead, it was quickly swept under the rug and we were told to keep it moving. It is like being shot and someone giving you a band-aid and saying now go back to work. When does my daughter get the time to process, feel and be vulnerable? Why are black and brown girls just expected to suck it up and keep going? In my journey of unlearning and becoming, I relearned the importance of not being strong all the time and it is ok to not be ok. And now, I am raising my girls to not only be strong but to be weak and vulnerable. My children will know and understand there is strength in allowing yourself to feel. In the right time in the right place with the right people. No, everyone should not see you sweat but you must allow yourself the opportunity to process your emotions, and no one has a right to take that away from you. I am teaching them that there is healing and release in crying and it is ok to be weak. True strength is knowing regardless of how much you can handle, you can also allow yourself a moment to be weak. You, yes you reading this, are allowed to have your moments of weakness! In our weakness He is made strong -2 Corinthians 12:9 That means …