Author: Cassandra S.

ITS NEVER TIME TO QUIT.

🔑 IT’S NEVER TIME TO QUIT — PIECE ONE

SOMETIMES THE WAY YOU REFUSE TO QUIT IS BY REFUSING TO KEEP GOING THE SAME WAY.

Beloveds,

I want to start this new series by clearing something up.

When I say, “It’s never time to quit,” I do NOT mean you should keep pushing yourself until there is nothing left of you.

I do not mean you cannot stop.

I do not mean you cannot rest.

I do not mean you cannot change your mind.

I do not mean you cannot ask for help.

I do not mean you have to keep using a method that is hurting you just because it used to work.

And I definitely do not mean that exhaustion is evidence that you simply need to try harder.

👀

Nah, fam.

Sometimes you need to sit down.

🪑

Sometimes you need to sleep.

Sometimes you need to cry.

Sometimes you need to laugh.

Sometimes you need to admit, “This is not working.”

Sometimes you need somebody else.

Sometimes you need a completely different plan.

Sometimes you need to leave something alone for the rest of the day and come back tomorrow.

And sometimes the strongest declaration of “I am not quitting” sounds like:

“I cannot keep doing it THIS way.”

🔑

That distinction matters to me.

Because there have been times in my life when continuing did not look particularly impressive.

There was no inspirational soundtrack.

Nobody was standing nearby applauding.

There was no dramatic finish line waiting for me.

There was just another thing that needed to be figured out.

Another adjustment.

Another frustration.

Another moment when what used to be simple was not simple anymore.

Another moment when I had to decide whether changing the way I did something meant I had failed.

I am learning that it does not.

I can change the method without abandoning the mission.

I can change the pace without abandoning the journey.

I can accept help without surrendering my agency.

I can rest without surrendering my purpose.

I can have a difficult day without declaring that I have a difficult life.

I can say, “Enough for today,” without saying, “I am finished forever.”

Those are not the same sentences.

❤️‍🩹

Maybe you need to hear that too.

Maybe you have been calling yourself a quitter because you had to stop.

Maybe your body made you stop.

Maybe your finances made you reconsider the plan.

Maybe somebody disappointed you.

Maybe something you thought would work did not.

Maybe you tried again and it STILL did not work.

Maybe you are tired of beginning again.

Maybe you are embarrassed that you need help with something you once handled easily.

Maybe everybody around you seems to be moving while you feel stuck in the same place.

Maybe you are looking at somebody else’s progress and using it as evidence against your own.

Please put down that measuring stick.

🔑

You are allowed to continue differently.

You are allowed to move slowly.

You are allowed to crawl through one season and dance through another.

You are allowed to change directions.

You are allowed to learn.

You are allowed to adapt.

You are allowed to discover that the thing you thought was the destination was only one possible route.

And yes, beloved, you are allowed to REST.

Rest is not quitting.

Changing your strategy is not quitting.

Asking for help is not quitting.

Using a different tool is not quitting.

Taking longer than you expected is not quitting.

Starting again is not quitting.

Beginning from somewhere you never expected to be is not quitting.

Sometimes those things are exactly what continuing looks like.

👩🏿‍🦼

I know something now that I did not understand in quite the same way before my life changed.

“One step” does not always mean putting one foot in front of another.

Sometimes a step is a decision.

Sometimes a step is asking.

Sometimes a step is accepting.

Sometimes a step is trying something differently.

Sometimes a step is admitting that you are tired.

Sometimes a step is stopping long enough to recover enough strength for the next one.

And sometimes your step will not look like anybody else’s.

It still counts.

One step.

One step.

One step.

🔑

I also want to say something to the people who are exhausted by motivational language.

You know the kind.

KEEP GOING!

PUSH HARDER!

NO EXCUSES!

NEVER STOP!

👀

Listen.

Sometimes you absolutely need to stop.

Human beings are not machines.

And even machines overheat.

🤣

So this series is not going to be about pretending you are limitless.

You have limits.

So do I.

Some limits can change.

Some can be stretched.

Some need to be respected.

Some require accommodations.

Some require another person to come alongside us.

Some require us to grieve what we cannot do the way we once did it.

And none of that makes our lives less valuable.

None of that removes our purpose.

None of that means the story is over.

🔑

There is another sentence I want us to carry through this series:

The hard thing does not get to write the final sentence.

It may write a sentence.

It may write a paragraph.

It may even write an entire chapter you never wanted.

But it does not automatically get the ending.

You are still here.

And while you are here, there are still choices available to you.

There may be fewer choices than you wish you had.

They may not be the choices you expected.

But somewhere in what remains, there may still be a 🔑.

Maybe the key is help.

Maybe the key is rest.

Maybe the key is forgiveness.

Maybe the key is trying again.

Maybe the key is stopping something that is destroying you.

Maybe the key is beginning something you are terrified to begin.

Maybe the key is admitting that the old way is gone.

Maybe the key is discovering another way.

That is what I want us to explore together.

Not some shiny version of perseverance where everybody triumphs before the commercial break.

Real perseverance.

Messy perseverance.

Tired perseverance.

Wheelchair perseverance.

Starting-over perseverance.

“I have absolutely no idea what I am doing but apparently we are doing it anyway” perseverance.

🤣

That kind.

Because I know something about that kind.

And I suspect some of you do too.

So pull up your chair.

🪑

There is room here for the person who is certain.

There is room for the person who is questioning.

There is room for the person who believes as I do.

There is room for the person who does not.

There is room for the person who is hopeful.

There is room for the person who cannot find hope today.

You do not have to resolve everything before you belong here.

You do not have to agree with me before I care about you.

You do not have to become somebody else before your life matters to me.

You matter to me.

🔑

And Cassandra is going to keep saying that.

Because somebody needs to hear it until they can believe it for themselves.

This week we are going to talk about what refusing to quit can actually look like when you are tired.

When you are afraid.

When you are angry.

When you are disappointed.

When you need help.

When the original plan is gone.

When you have to begin again.

And when continuing looks nothing like you imagined it would.

We are not going to pretend any of it is easy.

We are going to look for the 🔑 anyway.

Because sometimes the way you refuse to quit is by refusing to keep going the same way.

And sometimes the bravest thing you can say is:

“This way isn’t working.”

Followed by:

“So let’s find another one.”

🔑

We fight on.

Not recklessly.

Not endlessly.

Not without rest.

Not alone.

But we fight on.

One step.

One step.

One step.

You are loved.

You are NOT alone.

Keep on being…YOU!

Asking for A Friend,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Unapologetically His.

🔑

SUNDAY WITH CASSANDRA. IT ME!

SUNDAY WITH CASSANDRA.  IT ME!

📖 SUNDAY GRATITUDE JOURNAL WITH CASSANDRA 🪑🔑


Beloveds,


Come sit with me.
Yesterday, I invited you to the movies.


Today, I’m inviting you somewhere quieter.


Pull up your chair. 🪑
Bring your coffee.
Bring your tea.
Bring your questions.
Bring your faith.
Bring your doubts.
Bring your laughter.
Bring your grief.
Bring the parts of this week that made sense.


And bring the parts that absolutely did not.


You don’t have to clean yourself up before you sit down.
You don’t have to manufacture a testimony.
You don’t have to convince yourself that everything is wonderful.

And you certainly don’t have to pretend.


This is Sunday Gratitude Journal with Cassandra.
And I want us to begin with something important:


Gratitude is not pretending everything is good.
🔑


Sometimes gratitude is easy.
A beautiful morning.
A good meal.
A phone call.
A friend who checked on you.
A song that found you at exactly the right moment.
A movie that made you laugh.
A cup of coffee that deserved its own standing ovation. 👀🤣☕
Sometimes gratitude comes running toward us.


And sometimes?
Beloveds, we have to sit awhile before we can find it.
Sometimes we are grateful and grieving.
Grateful and disappointed.
Grateful and angry.
Grateful and exhausted.
Grateful and confused.
Grateful and still waiting for an answer.
Those things can exist in the same person.


At the same time.
That doesn’t make our gratitude fake.
It makes us human.
❤️‍🩹


And sometimes the truth is even simpler:
“I don’t know what I’m grateful for today.”
You can say that here too.


Pull up a chair.
🪑


I don’t want this journal to become another assignment you can fail.
I don’t want us performing positivity for one another.
I don’t want somebody reading this during one of the hardest weeks of their life and thinking everybody else found the secret to gratitude except them.


No.
Sometimes the journal begins with:


This week hurt.
This week disappointed me.
This week confused me.
This week exhausted me.
I wish some of what happened had never happened.
And I am still here.
Ma

ybe that’s where we begin.
🔑
I also want to make something very clear.
We do not have to be grateful FOR everything that happens to us in order to find something to be grateful for IN the life we are living.


There are things that happen in this world that I will never call good.
Cruelty is not good because somebody survived it.
Injustice is not good because somebody learned from it.


Loss does not become wonderful because eventually somebody found meaning.
Pain does not need a pretty bow around it.
Sometimes something was simply painful.
Sometimes something was simply wrong.


And gratitude does not require us to lie about that.
Maybe the gratitude is:
It hurt me.
I wish it had never happened.
And I am grateful it did not get the final word.


👀🔑
Now, you know Cassandra.
My faith is part of me.
I am going to talk about God.
I am going to pray.
I am going to tell you when I believe I saw God’s hand in something.


I am going to tell you when scripture carried me.
I am going to tell you when I prayed and believed God answered.
And I may also tell you about the times when I prayed and still had questions.


That is my chair.
But your chair is here too.
🪑🪑


You may believe exactly what I believe.
You may believe something different.
You may be questioning.
You may be uncertain.
You may not believe in God at all.
You do not have to borrow my beliefs to belong beside me.


If I say:
“This week, I saw God here…”
Maybe you say:
“This week, I saw kindness here.”
Maybe you call it humanity.
Community.
Love.
Resilience.
Goodness.
Chance.
Hope.


Maybe you don’t have a name for it yet.
We can tell the truth about what we believe without demanding that everybody sitting b

eside us use the same language.
🌎
That matters to me.
Because I don’t want a bigger table where everybody has to become Cassandra before they’re allowed to sit down.
🤣👀
Lord, one Cassandra is PLENTY.
🤣🤣🤣
I want a bigger table because the world is already full of different people.
Different stories.
Different beliefs.
Different questions.
Different histories.
Different wounds.
Different joys.
Different ways of understanding this strange, beautiful, difficult life.
And maybe we can learn something by sitting together.
🪑🌎🔑


So every Sunday, we’re going to open this journal.
Not because Cassandra has all the answers.
Please.
🤣


We’re opening it because reflection matters.
Sometimes life moves so quickly that we survive one thing and immediately start fighting the next.


We never stop long enough to ask:
What happened to me?
What helped me?
Who showed up?
What did I learn?
What surprised me?
What am I carrying that I don’t need anymore?
What deserves to come with me?
Where did I notice God?
Where did I notice goodness?
Where did I notice love?
Where did I notice myself becoming?
👀


Those are different questions.
And we don’t have to answer all of them.
This is not homework.
Pick a door.
🔑


Maybe today your journal says:
I am grateful for someone.
Maybe:
I am grateful for something small that brought me joy.
Maybe:
I am grateful I finally said no.
Maybe:
I am grateful I finally said yes.
Maybe:
I am grateful I changed my mind.
Maybe:
I am grateful somebody changed theirs.


Maybe:
I am grateful something ended.
Maybe:
I am grateful something began.
Maybe:
I am grateful I asked for help.
Maybe:
I am grateful somebody offered help before I had to ask.
Maybe:
I am grateful I laughed.
Maybe:
I am grateful I cried.
Maybe:
I am grateful I rested.


Maybe:
I am grateful I tried again.
Maybe:
I am grateful I stopped trying to force something that needed to be released.
Maybe:
I am grateful I discovered that a closed door wasn’t the end of the hallway.


🔑
And sometimes gratitude will surprise us.
We may discover we’re grateful for something we didn’t appreciate while it was happening.
A conversation.
A correction.
A delay.
A change of plans.
A stranger’s kindness.
Somebody saying:
“Come on.”
“Try again.”
“I believe you.”
“I’m still here.”
“Keep being weird.”


🤣🥰
Words can become keys.
People can become reminders that doors still exist.
And sometimes the person who handed us a key has absolutely no idea they did it.


That makes me wonder how many keys we’ve handed other people without knowing it.
👀🔑
Maybe somebody still remembers something kind you said ten years ago.
Maybe somebody kept going because you called.
Maybe somebody felt less alone because you sat beside them.
Maybe somebody believed they mattered because, for five minutes, you treated them like they did.


Maybe you forgot the entire conversation.
They didn’t.
That’s worth thinking about.
🌎


And gratitude isn’t a debt.
I need that written somewhere in this journal.
BIG.
🤣


You don’t owe happiness because somebody else has suffered more.
You don’t owe inspiration because people expect you to be strong.
You don’t owe anybody a cheerful version of your pain.


And you don’t owe Cassandra a beautiful answer in the comments.
If all you’ve got today is:
“I made it.”
Beloved, write that down.


If all you’ve got is:
“I rested.”
Write that down.
If all you’ve got is:
“I didn’t quit.”
Write that down.
If all you’ve got is:
“I don’t know yet.”
Leave some room on the page.


Maybe the answer hasn’t arrived.
📖
Sunday can hold an unfinished sentence.
So can you.
❤️‍🩹


For me, Sunday is also a chance to look toward God.
Not because every question has been answered.
Not because every difficulty disappeared.
Not because faith means I never struggle.


But because when I look back over my own life, I can identify places where I believe God was present even when I couldn’t understand what He was doing.


So part of my journal will sometimes simply say:
Thank You, God.
I don’t understand everything.
I don’t like everything.
I wouldn’t have chosen everything.
I still have questions.
But I can identify evidence that You were here.
🙏🏿


And if that isn’t your belief?
Your chair doesn’t disappear.
Tell me where YOU found goodness.
Tell me who showed up.
Tell me what helped.
Tell me what you learned.
Tell me what made you laugh.
Tell me what you’re carrying forward.


We don’t need identical answers to care about one another’s answers.
That’s part of the world I want us to practice building here.
🌎🪑


Saturday gives us something to experience together.
Sunday gives us room to reflect.
And Monday?
Monday we’ll get up—or roll up. 👩🏿‍🦼👀🤣


And we’ll keep moving.
Experience.
Reflection.
Movement.
🎬 → 📖 → 🔑


Maybe that’s part of our rhythm now.
We don’t rush from one thing to another without noticing what happened to us along the way.
We stop.
We look.
We learn.
We release what needs releasing.
We carry what deserves carrying.
And then we continue.
Not perfectly.
Not identically.
Together.
🌎


Before we close our first Sunday Gratitude Journal, I don’t want to give you twenty questions.
Just one.
Take it with you.
Sit with it.
Answer it publicly if you want.
Answer it privately if you don’t.
Write it somewhere.
Think about it.
Pray about it.
Laugh about it if your answer turns out to be something ridiculous. 🤣
Here it is:


🔑
WHAT IS ONE THING YOU’RE GRATEFUL MADE IT THROUGH THIS WEEK WITH YOU?
Maybe it’s your faith.
Maybe it’s your family.
Maybe it’s a friendship.
Maybe it’s your sense of humor.
Maybe it’s hope.
Maybe it’s your favorite coffee mug. ☕🤣


Maybe it’s a dream you thought you had lost.
Maybe it’s one tiny bit of courage.
Maybe it’s a question you’re finally willing to ask.
Maybe it’s your voice.
Maybe it’s you.


👀
Yeah.
You.
Maybe the thing that made it through this week with you…
was YOU.
And perhaps we don’t acknowledge that often enough.
You carried yourself through days nobody else completely saw.
You made decisions.
You changed decisions.
You endured disappointments.
You experienced little joys.
You got some things right.
You got some things spectacularly wrong.

🤣
You learned.
You rested.
You kept becoming.
And here you are.
Not finished.
Not required to be.
Still here.


🪑🔑
So come sit with me on Sundays.
Bring your gratitude when you have it.
Bring your questions when you don’t.
Bring your faith.
Bring your doubt.
Bring your laughter.
Bring your tears.
Bring the story exactly where it is.


There is room.
Believer.
Nonbeliever.
Certain.
Uncertain.
Whosoeverwill.
Come.
🪑🌎


I will tell you what I believe.
You can tell me what you believe.
We can listen.
We can learn.
We can disagree.
We can laugh.
We can be quiet.
And perhaps, somewhere in all of that, we’ll notice a few more reasons to be grateful that we’re sharing this complicated world with one another.
Different stories.
Same table.
ALL are keepers.


🔑🌎🪑
Welcome to Sunday Gratitude Journal with Cassandra.
The journal is open.
The chair is waiting.
And there is room on the page for you.


Cassandra
🔑 You matter to me.

MOVIE SATURDAY WITH CASSANDRA🌎🎬👩🏿‍🦼🍿🌎

MOVIE SATURDAY WITH CASSANDRA


Beloveds,


Pull up a chair.
I have something new for us.


Every Saturday, we’re going to the movies together.


Well…


Sort of.
You don’t have to buy a ticket.
You don’t have to get dressed.
You don’t have to leave your house.


And you certainly don’t have to pay movie-theater prices for popcorn.


Every Saturday at NOON, I’m opening the doors to our little Movie Saturday with Cassandra matinee.


I’ll bring a movie.
You bring you.
That’s it.


Some weeks we’ll laugh.
Some weeks we’ll cry.
Some weeks we’ll probably holler at the screen because somebody in the movie has apparently misplaced ALL their good sense.


Some movies may make us think about family, friendship, race, love, grief, faith, disability, second chances, forgiveness, education, aging, belonging, or what it means to become somebody we didn’t expect to become.


And some weeks?
Beloveds, we may just watch a good movie.


PERIODT.


Everything does not have to become homework.
Sometimes joy gets to simply be joy.

For our very first Movie Saturday, I had two movies in mind.
And My Bestie had opinions.
I had opinions.
There may have been a tiny disagreement.


Okay.


Maybe not tiny.


But after careful consideration, extensive deliberation, and the completely scientific process known as Cassandra picked the one she wanted to watch, we have a winner.



THIS WEEK’S MOVIE:


BACK TO SCHOOL MOM
Starring Kimberly Elise and Loretta Devine.


This one gives us plenty to work with:


Education.
Motherhood.
Second chances.
Unfinished business.
Dreams that didn’t disappear simply because life happened.
And becoming.



I already suspect we’re going to have some THOUGHTS.
But here’s something important about Movie Saturday:


You don’t have to see what I see.
You don’t have to like the character I like.
You might understand somebody I absolutely wanted to fuss at.


You might notice something I completely missed.
You might love the movie.
You might hate it.
You might change your mind halfway through.


So might I.
That’s part of the fun.
Different people can sit on the same couch, watch the same story, and walk away carrying completely different things.


That doesn’t have to separate us.
Sometimes it can help us understand one another better.


And everybody gets a chair here.
Believer.
Nonbeliever.
Questioning.
Certain.
Uncertain.
Movie lover.
Person who hasn’t watched a movie in six months.
Person who comes exclusively for the popcorn.
Whosoeverwill.
Come.


You don’t have to believe what I believe to belong with me.
You don’t have to agree with Cassandra to sit beside Cassandra.
That’s not what the chair is for.


The chair says:
Come as you are.
Watch when you can.
Laugh when something is funny.
Cry if something gets you.
Think if something makes you think.
Disagree when you disagree.
Change your mind if you change your mind.


And if all you get from today’s movie is two hours when life wasn’t asking something from you?
Beloved, that counts too.
❤️‍


Because maybe movies can do something else for us.
Maybe stories let us borrow somebody else’s eyes for a little while.
Maybe they help us recognize people we’ve misunderstood.
Maybe they remind us of somebody we love.


Maybe they show us something uncomfortable about ourselves.
Maybe they give us language for something we’ve felt but couldn’t quite name.
Maybe they make us laugh until our stomach hurts.


And maybe every once in a while, somewhere in somebody else’s story, we find a little  for our own.
That’s worth pulling up a chair for.


So grab your popcorn.
Grab your snacks.
Grab your blanket.
Grab the good chair before somebody else gets it. 藍
And come watch with me.
 SATURDAY MATINEE
12:00 PM

BACK TO SCHOOL MOM
https://youtu.be/XdhcIGUOpZk⁠


You don’t have to start precisely at noon.
Noon is just when Cassandra opens the theater doors.


Come when you can.
And after we’ve watched?
Ohhhh, Beloveds.
WE’RE GONNA TALK.

What did you notice?
Who did you understand?
Who got on your LAST nerve?
Did anybody surprise you?
Did anything make you reconsider something you thought you already knew?
Did you laugh?
Did you cry?
Did you yell at your television?


And perhaps most importantly:
Did you enjoy yourself?
Because we’re building something here that has room for serious conversations AND popcorn.
Faith AND questions.


Learning AND laughter.
Different stories.
Different perspectives.
Different people.
Same couch.
One amazing community.

Welcome to Movie Saturday with Cassandra.
The theater is open.
The popcorn is ready.
And there’s a chair here with your name on it.
Come watch a movie with me.

Cassandra
You matter to me.

🎬 COMING ATTRACTIONS…

Beloveds,

Tomorrow…

🕵🏿‍♀️🔎

THE ADVENTURES OF LIEUTENANT CASSANDRA COLUMBO.

One woman.

One phone.

One mysterious formatting problem.

Approximately 9,742 attempts to figure out why something that looked perfectly normal over HERE suddenly became:

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THAT?!

over THERE.

😭🤣

Just one more thing…

👀

Tomorrow morning, we are going back to the scene of the crime.

Because somewhere in yesterday’s fiasco, I learned something about problems, persistence, paying attention, and what happens when the evidence in front of you says:

Wait.

Something isn’t adding up.

🔎

Then tomorrow’s second feature goes somewhere deeper.

SOMETHING.

What happens when you are tired?

I mean TIRED tired.

When circumstances, fatigue, necessity, or plain old LIFE make you realize:

I cannot do everything I intended to do today.

But maybe I can do SOMETHING.

🔑

What happens when we stop measuring perseverance by whether we completed the original plan and start asking:

What actually matters here?

What am I trying to protect?

What can I genuinely do with what I have available TODAY?

Because sometimes fighting on doesn’t mean doing everything.

Sometimes it means finding the clue.

Sometimes it means changing the plan.

Sometimes it means doing SOMETHING.

And sometimes…

it means stopping for the night and coming back tomorrow.

👀

Which brings me to…

🎬 MONDAY’S COMING ATTRACTION:

IT’S NEVER TIME TO QUIT.

A new series.

And no.

That does NOT mean:

Never rest.

Never stop.

Never change direction.

Never admit something isn’t working.

Never put something down.

Never say, “I cannot do this today.”

We’re going deeper than that.

We’re going to talk about what quitting actually is.

And what it isn’t.

We’re going to talk about resting without surrendering.

Changing direction without abandoning the destination.

Letting go of a method without letting go of the mission.

Knowing when persistence needs a different strategy.

Knowing when SOMETHING is enough.

Knowing when NOTHING today might make something possible tomorrow.

And maybe we’ll discover that sometimes the thing we really need to quit…

is quitting on ourselves.

👀🔑⛓️

But that’s Monday.

Because right now?

Beloveds, I have made a decision.

I am taking the FULL WEEKEND OFF.

Absolutely.

Definitely.

No question about it.

Firm decision.

Final answer.

I mean it.

👀

Unless I don’t.

🤣🤣🤣

WE FIGHT ON!

Asking for A Friend,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!

Today…

It’s been a day. Be encouraged .

Cassandra

Today was…

*sigh*

Whew!!

It’s not the 2nd but still…

🎬 MAYBE THEY WEREN’T “TOO BLACK.” MAYBE I WAS STILL HOLDING THE RULER. 🪑🔑Beloveds,I told you I caught myself watching Black romance movies and thinking:Too loud.Too boisterous.Too Black.😳And the Holy Spirit convicted me.Then I watched Deliver Us from Eva.WHEW.👀Because suddenly I wasn’t only watching Eva.I was looking at the ruler I sometimes used to measure everybody.Let’s start with Eva.She’s intelligent, professional, beautiful, protective, loving, bossy, controlling, loyal and complicated.All of it.🔑She doesn’t have to become either the Angry Black Woman Who Needs Taming or the Strong Black Woman Whose Every Choice Must Be Defended.Eva needs correction AND Eva deserves dignity.She helped raise her sisters after their parents died. Protection became part of her identity.But eventually protection sometimes became control.⛓️ If I don’t manage everybody, everything will fall apart.🔑 I can love grown people without controlling grown people.Her sisters need a key too.You cannot keep handing somebody the clipboard to your life and then get mad because she keeps writing on it.🤣Eva has to stop managing.Her sisters have to start owning.Everybody gets a chair.🪑And YES—THE MEN TOO.🤣🪑🪑🪑🪑Ray begins by deceiving Eva.That matters.But eventually “the problem” becomes a person to him.Eva.And Ray changes.🔑 Sometimes genuinely knowing somebody destroys the caricature we created from a distance.But Ray deserves his own humanity too.He’s working, dreaming, saving, flawed, funny, romantic, masculine and tender.He doesn’t need to become a CEO before he’s worthy of love.There’s that ten-times-better ruler again.👀Then Mike.Mike has a legitimate frustration with Eva’s interference.His solution?SIR. SIT DOWN.🪑🤣Because here’s another key:🔑 A legitimate grievance does not automatically make every remedy legitimate.Pain deserves acknowledgment.Choices still require accountability.Then Tim made me ask:What does a Black man have to look like before we consider him “man enough”?Dominant?Always in charge?Never soft?Never uncertain?Why?Tim doesn’t need more masculinity.He needs his voice.🔑A loud Black woman shouldn’t have to shrink.A quieter Black man shouldn’t have to perform dominance.Both get chairs.And Darrell?🤣Some people are intellectual heavyweights.And some people are…Darrell.🤣❤️HE GETS A CHAIR TOO.Intelligence isn’t the admission price for dignity.Sophistication isn’t the admission price for love.Black people are allowed to be ordinary.Goofy.Messy.Wrong.Funny.Tender.Brilliant.Ridiculous.Rich.Poor.Loud.Quiet.Human.And suddenly the Holy Spirit’s conviction went deeper.Maybe I had become nervous when Black characters weren’t representing us “well enough.”What will THEY think?Why are they so loud?Why aren’t they more polished?More educated?More professional?More respectable?More…acceptable?😳And suddenly I’m not watching a movie.I’m conducting a performance review of Blackness.⛓️That’s exhausting.Because Black characters should not have to carry the reputation of an entire people on their backs.And sometimes, without realizing it—we help load the backpack.That was part of what the Holy Spirit showed me.Not merely:Cassandra, look at them.But:Cassandra, look at your ruler.👀Who handed it to you?Why are you still carrying it?And I knew part of the answer.Ten times better.There was love and survival inside what Black folk taught me.They were preparing me for an unfair world.But:“You may have to be ten times better to receive the opportunity”can quietly become:“Black people SHOULD be ten times better.”NO.❤️‍🩹I reject that.Black excellence is beautiful.Black dignity is unconditional.Eva gets correction and dignity.Ray gets tenderness and accountability.Mike gets frustration and responsibility.Tim gets quietness and voice.Darrell gets goofiness and dignity.The sisters get love and agency.Nobody has to become less Black.Nobody has to become ten times more human.EVERYBODY GETS A CHAIR.🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑And maybe that’s what the Holy Spirit was really asking me:Cassandra, why are you still holding the ruler?😳My answer?I’m learning to put it down.🔑And maybe you have one too.Race.Education.Disability.Age.Money.Accent.Religion.Politics.Body size.Mental illness.Addiction.Sexuality.Somebody whose life simply doesn’t look like yours.Don’t perform an answer for me.Be honest with you. For, HIM.🙏🏿What ruler are you carrying?Who handed it to you?Who have you measured with it?Have you measured yourself with it too?And if the Holy Spirit is showing it to you, maybe He isn’t giving you the ruler so you can beat yourself with it.Maybe He’s saying:Child. You don’t need that anymore.Put it down.🔑❤️‍🩹Pull up your chair.🪑Let somebody else pull up theirs.And let people be fully human in front of you.Including—you.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿❤️‍🔥🌎Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!Unapologetically His.Unapologetically yours.

🎬 MAYBE THEY WEREN’T “TOO BLACK.” MAYBE I WAS STILL HOLDING THE RULER. 🪑🔑Beloveds,Yesterday I told you something uncomfortable.I told you that while watching Black romance movies, I caught myself thinking some of the characters were:Too loud.Too boisterous.Too…Black.😳And I told you that the conviction of the Holy Spirit made me look at what was happening inside me.Well.Pull up your chair.🪑Because then I watched Deliver Us from Eva.And this movie made me look again.Not only at Eva.At everybody.The women.The men.The relationships.The families.The careers.The foolishness.The love.The control.The tenderness.The Blackness.And especially the measuring stick I had sometimes been holding while watching people who looked like me.👀Let’s start with Eva.Eva is strong.Opinionated.Professional.Beautiful.Protective.Intelligent.Controlling.Loving.Bossy.Loyal.Interfering.Complicated.Notice what I just did?I let her be more than one thing.🔑She does not have to become either:The Angry Black Woman Who Needs TamingorThe Strong Black Woman Whose Every Choice Must Be Defended.Eva needs correction.And Eva deserves dignity.Both.She took on enormous responsibility for her sisters after their parents died.Care became part of her identity.Protection became responsibility.And somewhere along the way, protection sometimes became control.That happens.A survival skill can save us in one season and need adjustment in another.⛓️ If I don’t take care of everybody, everything will fall apart.🔑 I can love grown people without controlling grown people.But Eva isn’t the only person who needs a key.Her sisters do too.Because you cannot continually hand somebody the clipboard to your life and then be shocked that she keeps writing on it.🤣At some point:Eva has to stop managing.And:her sisters have to start owning.🪑🪑That’s relationship.That’s adulthood.That’s boundaries.That’s love without possession.And then there are the men.Oh, yes.ALL OF THEM.👀🤣Because I’m not giving the women full humanity and turning the Black men into props.Pull up some more chairs.🪑🪑🪑🪑Ray.Mike.Tim.Darrell.Come on in.🤣Let’s start with Ray.Ray enters Eva’s life because the men have concocted an absolutely ridiculous plan to get Eva out of theirs.Sir.🤣The plan involves deception.And deception matters.Eva believes she is encountering somebody genuinely interested in her.Ray knows information she does not.That is not equal agency.⛓️ Deception steals informed choice.But then something inconvenient happens to Ray’s little plan.Eva becomes a person.Not “the problem.”Not “that difficult woman.”Not the assignment.Eva.And Ray develops real feelings.That matters because stereotypes are easiest to maintain from a distance.Encounter complicates caricature.🔑 Sometimes knowing somebody destroys the story we were telling ourselves about them.But Ray deserves examination beyond Eva too.He’s a Black man.Working.Trying.Saving.Dreaming.Flawed.Funny.Romantic.Capable of deception.Capable of tenderness.Capable of changing.He doesn’t have to become a CEO before the movie lets him be desirable.👀There’s our ten-times-better rule again.Black excellence is beautiful.But ordinary Black life is beautiful too.A Black man’s worth is not his résumé.Neither is a Black woman’s.Then there’s Mike.Mike has a legitimate frustration.Eva’s involvement creates real strain.But listen carefully:A legitimate grievance does not automatically make every remedy legitimate.🔑Mike’s problem is real.His solution?Sir.Take a seat.🪑🤣He participates in manipulation instead of dealing honestly with the relationships involved.And that is something we can do in real life.We identify a genuine problem.Then because our hurt is legitimate, we assume whatever we do next must also be legitimate.Nope.Pain deserves acknowledgment.Choices still deserve examination.Then Tim.Tim made me think about another measuring stick:What is a Black man supposed to look like?Strong?Dominant?Always in charge?Never uncertain?Never conflict-avoidant?Never soft?Never overwhelmed by stronger personalities?Why?👀A quieter man does not need to become a caricature of dominance to become a man.Tim doesn’t need more masculinity.He needs more voice.🔑And there is a difference.Just as the loud Black woman shouldn’t have to shrink, the quieter Black man shouldn’t have to perform loudness to prove himself.Both get chairs.🪑🪑And Darrell.🤣Beloveds, some people are brilliant.Some people are sophisticated.Some people are intellectual heavyweights.And some people are…Darrell.🤣❤️And guess what?HE GETS A CHAIR TOO.Because intelligence is not the admission price for dignity.Sophistication is not the admission price for love.Black people do not have to become exceptional specimens before they are allowed to be funny, ordinary, goofy, imperfect and loved.And THAT hit me.Because maybe part of the hidden burden of “ten times better” is that we start becoming nervous when Black people on screen aren’t representing us “well enough.”👀Read that again.We worry:What will THEY think?Does this reinforce a stereotype?Why are they acting like that?Why are they so loud?Why couldn’t the character be more educated?More polished?More professional?More respectable?More—acceptable?And suddenly we’re not watching a movie anymore.We’re conducting a performance review of Blackness.😳Beloveds…that is exhausting.Because white characters are often permitted to be:Brilliant.Stupid.Rich.Poor.Heroic.Ridiculous.Criminal.Professional.Messy.Romantic.Awkward.Loud.Quiet.Good.Terrible.Ordinary.And nobody necessarily asks one white character to represent the moral worth of an entire race.But Black characters?Sometimes we watch them carrying everybody.And sometimes—without realizing it—we help load the backpack.⛓️That was part of the Holy Spirit’s conviction for me.God was showing me:Cassandra, look at the ruler.Not merely:Look at those people.Look at what you are using to measure them.👀Who gave you that?When did you learn it?Why are you still carrying it?And Beloveds…I think I know part of the answer.Ten times better.That lesson came from people trying to prepare me for a world they knew could be unfair.There was love inside the warning.There was survival inside it.There was history inside it.But there was also a chain hiding nearby.Because “You may have to be ten times better to receive the opportunity” can quietly become:“Black people SHOULD be ten times better.”No.❤️‍🩹I reject that.We should pursue excellence because excellence can be beautiful.We should develop our gifts.Learn.Grow.Work.Create.Build.But our humanity cannot depend upon outperforming somebody else.And our Blackness does not become more respectable because we make ourselves less Black.🔑Eva gets to be loud.And Eva needs boundaries.Ray gets to be masculine and tender.And Ray needs honesty.Mike gets to be frustrated.And Mike needs accountability.Tim gets to be quieter.And Tim needs his voice.Darrell gets to be goofy.And Darrell gets dignity.The sisters get to love Eva.And they need agency.Everybody gets correction.Everybody gets complexity.Everybody gets humanity.EVERYBODY GETS A CHAIR.🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑🪑That’s what I want now.Not a world where nobody gets judged because nobody ever does anything wrong.That’s not discernment.I want a world where we can say:That behavior needs changingwithout saying:That person needs to become less themselves to deserve belonging.WHEW.❤️‍🔥And this is where the conviction of the Holy Spirit becomes beautiful to me.Because God didn’t merely show me what was wrong.He started changing what I enjoyed.🥰I kept watching.I relaxed.I laughed.🤣I fell in love with seeing Black people simply BE.Not representing.Not auditioning.Not proving.Being.And somewhere along the way, I think God was freeing me too.Because if they don’t have to perform acceptable Blackness—neither do I.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿I can be educated.And silly.Faithful.And questioning.Strong.And tired.Professional.And LOUD.🤣A wheelchair user.A woman whose speech changed.A writer.A believer.A Black woman.A work in progress.ME.And I don’t need to become ten times more human than anybody else.I already belong to the human family.And more importantly to me:I belong to God.🙏🏿❤️‍🔥So maybe the question isn’t:Are they too Black?Maybe the Holy Spirit was asking me:Cassandra, why are you still holding the ruler?😳And maybe my answer now is:I’m not.I’m learning to put it down.🔑Beloveds, maybe you have one too.Maybe yours doesn’t measure Blackness.Maybe it measures education.Body size.Disability.Age.Money.Accent.Gender.Religion.Politics.Neighborhood.Clothes.Mental illness.Addiction.Sexuality.Or somebody whose life simply looks nothing like yours.I’m not asking you to perform an answer for me.Be honest with you.For, HIM.🙏🏿What ruler are you carrying?Who handed it to you?Who have you measured with it?Have you measured yourself with it too?And if the Holy Spirit is showing it to you—maybe He isn’t showing you the ruler so you can beat yourself with it.Maybe He’s saying:Child. You don’t need that anymore.Put it down.🔑❤️‍🩹Pull up your chair.🪑And let somebody else pull up theirs.Because maybe freedom looks like finally letting people be fully human in front of us.And maybe—just maybe—that includes letting ourselves be fully human too.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿❤️‍🔥🌎Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!Unapologetically His.Unapologetically yours.

📫 ❤️‍🩹 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME.Beloveds,Ow.That is probably the best way for me to begin this.Ow.For the past few years, the Holy Spirit has been convicting my heart.Not condemning me.Convicting me.There is a difference.Condemnation tells me to hide.The conviction of the Holy Spirit calls me into the light.And sometimes?That light hits something in me that makes me say:OW!😳🥺❤️‍🩹I love living in my Black skin.I love Black joy.I love Black laughter.I love Black music.I love Black creativity.I love Black excellence.I love the beauty of us.The resilience of us.The tenderness of us.The absolute foolishness of us sometimes.🤣I love everybody.But I especially love my bros and sis.Which is exactly why what the Holy Spirit showed me hurt so much.Just before my stroke, I discovered a ton of Black romance movies.Beloveds…I LOVED THEM.🥰😍Seeing Black people in love was breathtaking to me.People who looked like me were falling in love.Being pursued.Being cherished.Building families.Laughing.Arguing.Reconciling.Getting married.Living.And many of these movies showed something else I loved seeing:Black affluence.Black professionals.Black entrepreneurs.Beautiful Black families in beautiful homes.Black men and women succeeding.Black excellence.I loved seeing us.But then something happened.And this is where I cry.😭Permit me to digress.Growing up, Black folk pounded something into my head:You have to be ten times better than everybody else just to earn a hint of a whiff of a chance at a decent job. At a decent life.So I worked.Hard.HARD.I learned.I became good at what I did.I loved Customer Service.You could hear that love in my voice.I trained people.And I watched many of the white people I trained receive the raise.The promotion.The opportunity.Over me.I offered my skills.I knew I was capable.Still…I was seldom selected.Not chosen.Again.Sigh.❤️‍🩹Now come back to those movies with me.Because one day I caught something happening inside myself.I was watching Black people on the screen.And somewhere in my thoughts I heard:They’re too loud.Too boisterous.Too…Black.😳🥺🥹😦😩😢😭OW.I am a Black woman.I love Black people.And there it was.Inside me.A measuring stick.A judgment.A standard about what kind of Blackness was acceptable.And the Holy Spirit would not let me look away from it.That is important.Because I could have defended myself.I could have said:I’m Black!I love Black people!Look at everything I’ve written!Look at who I am!I could have produced evidence for my own defense.But God wasn’t putting me on trial.He was showing me something because He loves me enough to show me what still needs healing.❤️‍🩹I had learned that Black people are watched.Evaluated.Measured.Judged.How we speak.How we dress.How we wear our hair.How loudly we laugh.How angry we are allowed to become.How professional we appear.Whether we are “articulate.”Whether we make somebody uncomfortable.Whether we are respectable enough.Somewhere along the way, the watcher got inside.⛓️Society didn’t have to sit beside me watching the movie saying:That’s too Black.Some of those old lessons had learned how to speak from inside me.And the Holy Spirit said:Look.👀Not:Hate yourself.Not:You are terrible.Not:You don’t love your people.Look.See it.Tell the truth about it.Let Me deal with it.And Beloveds?I did something important.I forgave ME.❤️‍🩹Not because bias doesn’t matter.Not because judgment doesn’t hurt people.Not because I wanted an excuse.I forgave myself because shame was not going to heal what God was revealing.I forgave the Black girl who learned she was being watched.I forgave the Black woman who learned she needed to work ten times harder.I forgave the professional who watched people she trained receive opportunities she wasn’t given.I forgave the woman who learned that being excellent, controlled, polished and respectable might make the road a little safer.And then I let the Holy Spirit teach that woman something new.🔑Over these last few weeks, I started watching those movies again.🥰Then:😍Then:😅Then:🤣😂And something began changing.I stopped grading everybody’s Blackness.Loud?Okay.Quiet?Okay.Boisterous?Okay.Reserved?Okay.Professional?Okay.Country?Okay.Hood?Okay.Affluent?Okay.Working class?Okay.Harvard?Okay.Grandma’s kitchen table and the school of hard knocks?Okay.🤣❤️Black people do not owe me one acceptable performance of Blackness.And neither do I.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿Because here’s another little piece of God’s sense of humor:After all those years learning how not to be “too loud”…Look at the name of my blog.WHY CAN’T I BE LOUD?!🤣🤣🤣Won’t He do it?!But this revelation went deeper.Because I realized something about Black excellence too.I LOVE Black excellence.I celebrate it.But Black excellence cannot become another chain.⛓️We cannot spend generations being told we must be ten times better and then accidentally turn around and require exceptional achievement from one another before we feel comfortable celebrating Black life.The CEO matters.The doctor matters.The professor matters.The entrepreneur matters.And so does the cashier.The janitor.The unemployed brother trying again.The sister working two jobs.The person without the degree.The person with the accent.The person whose grammar somebody wants to correct.The quiet Black man.The loud Black man.The quiet Black woman.And yes—the LOUD Black woman.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿❤️‍🔥Our dignity cannot depend upon our excellence.And that revelation made me ask an even harder question:What other measuring sticks am I carrying?Not just about Black people.About people.Period.What have I absorbed about disability?Poverty?Weight?Age?Education?Accents?Religion?Gender?Mental illness?Addiction?Homelessness?People who vote differently?People who worship differently?People who don’t believe what I believe?People whose lives I don’t understand?👀What if some of the chains I want broken in the world are also hiding somewhere inside me?⛓️Then I need a key too.🔑That is why I’m telling you this.Because the Holy Spirit convicted me.And the instruction in my spirit was:BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME.For ME.Him.God.🙏🏿Tell them.Don’t polish yourself first.Don’t pretend you arrived.Don’t make yourself the teacher standing above everybody else.Tell them what I showed you.So I am.I judged.God showed me.It hurt.I listened.I forgave myself.I kept watching.I started seeing differently.And I’m still learning.That is conviction.That is grace.That is growth.That is another chain hitting the floor.⛓️💥And now, Beloveds, I turn the question toward you—not from above you.From my chair.🪑Be honest with you.For, HIM.What hidden bias are you struggling to deal with?What measuring stick did somebody put in your hand so early that you forgot somebody gave it to you?And what might happen if you finally put it down?Don’t answer for me.Don’t answer for Facebook.Don’t answer for church.Don’t answer because somebody is watching.Ask God.Be honest with you.For, Him.Because He already knows what is there.And if the Holy Spirit turns the light on?👀Look.Listen.Repent where repentance is needed.Forgive yourself.Learn.Unlearn.Heal.Choose differently.And keep walking.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹God did not show me the chain so I could decorate it with shame.He showed me the chain because chains can be broken.And THAT?That will preach.❤️‍🔥🙏🏿Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!Unapologetically His.Unapologetically yours.

📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,Ow.For the past few years, the Holy Spirit has been convicting my heart.Not condemning me.Convicting me.And this one hurt.I love living in my Black skin. I love Black joy, Black love, Black laughter and Black excellence. I love everybody, but especially my bros and sis.Which is why this revelation made me cry.Before my stroke, I discovered Black romance movies.🥰😍Seeing people who looked like me falling in love was breathtaking. I loved seeing Black professionals, beautiful homes, successful families and Black people simply enjoying life.But one day I caught myself thinking:They’re too loud.Too boisterous.Too…Black.😳🥺😭OW.There it was.Inside me.And the Holy Spirit said:Look.👀Growing up, Black folk pounded something into my head:You have to be ten times better just to get a hint of a whiff of the same opportunity.So I worked.Hard.I became good at what I did. I loved Customer Service. You could hear it in my voice.I even trained white people who later received raises and promotions over me.Still…I was seldom selected.Sigh.❤️‍🩹I learned early that Black people were being watched.How we talked.How loudly we laughed.How professional we appeared.Whether we were “articulate.”Whether we made somebody uncomfortable.And somewhere along the way—the watcher got inside me.⛓️Nobody had to sit beside me saying, They’re too Black.The old measuring stick had learned how to speak from inside.And THAT is what the Holy Spirit convicted me about.God wasn’t telling me to hate myself.He was showing me something He wanted to heal.So I forgave ME.❤️‍🩹I forgave the Black girl who learned she was being watched.I forgave the woman who learned she had to work ten times harder.I forgave the professional who watched people she trained receive opportunities she wasn’t given.And then I let the Holy Spirit teach that woman something different.🔑I kept watching those movies.🥰😍😅🤣😂And I stopped grading everybody’s Blackness.Loud?Okay.Quiet?Okay.Country?Okay.Hood?Okay.Affluent?Okay.Working class?Okay.Harvard?Okay.Grandma’s kitchen table?Okay.Black people do not owe me one acceptable performance of Blackness.Neither do I.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿And would you LOOK at God’s sense of humor?After learning all those years not to be “too loud,” I now have a blog called:WHY CAN’T I BE LOUD?!🤣❤️‍🔥Won’t He do it?!I love Black excellence.But the Holy Spirit showed me something else:Black excellence cannot become another chain.⛓️The CEO matters.The doctor matters.And so do the cashier, janitor, unemployed brother trying again, sister working two jobs, person without the degree, quiet Black man, loud Black man, quiet Black woman and—YES—LOUD BLACK WOMAN.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿❤️‍🔥Our dignity cannot depend upon being exceptional.And now I’m asking myself:What other measuring sticks am I carrying?About disability?Poverty?Age?Weight?Education?Religion?Accents?Mental illness?Homelessness?People who don’t believe what I believe?What if some of the chains I want broken in the world are hiding inside me?Then I need a key too.🔑And THAT is why I’m telling you.Because the instruction in my spirit was:BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME.ME = HIM.God.🙏🏿Tell them what I showed you.So I am.I judged.The Holy Spirit convicted me.It hurt.I listened.I forgave myself.I’m learning.And I’m choosing differently.⛓️💥🔑Now, Beloveds:Be honest with you. For, HIM.What hidden bias are you struggling with?What measuring stick did somebody put into your hand so early that you forgot it was handed to you?And if the Holy Spirit turns the light on?Look.Listen.Repent.Learn.Unlearn.Heal.Choose differently.❤️‍🩹🔑God didn’t show me the chain so I could decorate it with shame.He showed me the chain because chains can be broken.❤️‍🔥🙏🏿Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!Unapologetically His.Unapologetically yours.

📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,Ow.That is probably the best way for me to begin this.Ow.For the past few years, the Holy Spirit has been convicting my heart.Not condemning me.Convicting me.There is a difference.Condemnation tells me to hide.The conviction of the Holy Spirit calls me into the light.And sometimes?That light hits something in me that makes me say:OW!😳🥺❤️‍🩹I love living in my Black skin.I love Black joy.I love Black laughter.I love Black music.I love Black creativity.I love Black excellence.I love the beauty of us.The resilience of us.The tenderness of us.The absolute foolishness of us sometimes.🤣I love everybody.But I especially love my bros and sis.Which is exactly why what the Holy Spirit showed me hurt so much.Just before my stroke, I discovered a ton of Black romance movies.Beloveds…I LOVED THEM.🥰😍Seeing Black people in love was breathtaking to me.People who looked like me were falling in love.Being pursued.Being cherished.Building families.Laughing.Arguing.Reconciling.Getting married.Living.And many of these movies showed something else I loved seeing:Black affluence.Black professionals.Black entrepreneurs.Beautiful Black families in beautiful homes.Black men and women succeeding.Black excellence.I loved seeing us.But then something happened.And this is where I cry.😭Permit me to digress.Growing up, Black folk pounded something into my head:You have to be ten times better than everybody else just to earn a hint of a whiff of a chance at a decent job. At a decent life.So I worked.Hard.HARD.I learned.I became good at what I did.I loved Customer Service.You could hear that love in my voice.I trained people.And I watched many of the white people I trained receive the raise.The promotion.The opportunity.Over me.I offered my skills.I knew I was capable.Still…I was seldom selected.Not chosen.Again.Sigh.❤️‍🩹Now come back to those movies with me.Because one day I caught something happening inside myself.I was watching Black people on the screen.And somewhere in my thoughts I heard:They’re too loud.Too boisterous.Too…Black.😳🥺🥹😦😩😢😭OW.I am a Black woman.I love Black people.And there it was.Inside me.A measuring stick.A judgment.A standard about what kind of Blackness was acceptable.And the Holy Spirit would not let me look away from it.That is important.Because I could have defended myself.I could have said:I’m Black!I love Black people!Look at everything I’ve written!Look at who I am!I could have produced evidence for my own defense.But God wasn’t putting me on trial.He was showing me something because He loves me enough to show me what still needs healing.❤️‍🩹I had learned that Black people are watched.Evaluated.Measured.Judged.How we speak.How we dress.How we wear our hair.How loudly we laugh.How angry we are allowed to become.How professional we appear.Whether we are “articulate.”Whether we make somebody uncomfortable.Whether we are respectable enough.Somewhere along the way, the watcher got inside.⛓️Society didn’t have to sit beside me watching the movie saying:That’s too Black.Some of those old lessons had learned how to speak from inside me.And the Holy Spirit said:Look.👀Not:Hate yourself.Not:You are terrible.Not:You don’t love your people.Look.See it.Tell the truth about it.Let Me deal with it.And Beloveds?I did something important.I forgave ME.❤️‍🩹Not because bias doesn’t matter.Not because judgment doesn’t hurt people.Not because I wanted an excuse.I forgave myself because shame was not going to heal what God was revealing.I forgave the Black girl who learned she was being watched.I forgave the Black woman who learned she needed to work ten times harder.I forgave the professional who watched people she trained receive opportunities she wasn’t given.I forgave the woman who learned that being excellent, controlled, polished and respectable might make the road a little safer.And then I let the Holy Spirit teach that woman something new.🔑Over these last few weeks, I started watching those movies again.🥰Then:😍Then:😅Then:🤣😂And something began changing.I stopped grading everybody’s Blackness.Loud?Okay.Quiet?Okay.Boisterous?Okay.Reserved?Okay.Professional?Okay.Country?Okay.Hood?Okay.Affluent?Okay.Working class?Okay.Harvard?Okay.Grandma’s kitchen table and the school of hard knocks?Okay.🤣❤️Black people do not owe me one acceptable performance of Blackness.And neither do I.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿Because here’s another little piece of God’s sense of humor:After all those years learning how not to be “too loud”…Look at the name of my blog.WHY CAN’T I BE LOUD?!🤣🤣🤣Won’t He do it?!But this revelation went deeper.Because I realized something about Black excellence too.I LOVE Black excellence.I celebrate it.But Black excellence cannot become another chain.⛓️We cannot spend generations being told we must be ten times better and then accidentally turn around and require exceptional achievement from one another before we feel comfortable celebrating Black life.The CEO matters.The doctor matters.The professor matters.The entrepreneur matters.And so does the cashier.The janitor.The unemployed brother trying again.The sister working two jobs.The person without the degree.The person with the accent.The person whose grammar somebody wants to correct.The quiet Black man.The loud Black man.The quiet Black woman.And yes—the LOUD Black woman.👩🏿‍🦼💃🏿❤️‍🔥Our dignity cannot depend upon our excellence.And that revelation made me ask an even harder question:What other measuring sticks am I carrying?Not just about Black people.About people.Period.What have I absorbed about disability?Poverty?Weight?Age?Education?Accents?Religion?Gender?Mental illness?Addiction?Homelessness?People who vote differently?People who worship differently?People who don’t believe what I believe?People whose lives I don’t understand?👀What if some of the chains I want broken in the world are also hiding somewhere inside me?⛓️Then I need a key too.🔑That is why I’m telling you this.Because the Holy Spirit convicted me.And the instruction in my spirit was:BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME.For ME.Him.God.🙏🏿Tell them.Don’t polish yourself first.Don’t pretend you arrived.Don’t make yourself the teacher standing above everybody else.Tell them what I showed you.So I am.I judged.God showed me.It hurt.I listened.I forgave myself.I kept watching.I started seeing differently.And I’m still learning.That is conviction.That is grace.That is growth.That is another chain hitting the floor.⛓️💥And now, Beloveds, I turn the question toward you—not from above you.From my chair.🪑Be honest with you.For, HIM.What hidden bias are you struggling to deal with?What measuring stick did somebody put in your hand so early that you forgot somebody gave it to you?And what might happen if you finally put it down?Don’t answer for me.Don’t answer for Facebook.Don’t answer for church.Don’t answer because somebody is watching.Ask God.Be honest with you.For, Him.Because He already knows what is there.And if the Holy Spirit turns the light on?👀Look.Listen.Repent where repentance is needed.Forgive yourself.Learn.Unlearn.Heal.Choose differently.And keep walking.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹God did not show me the chain so I could decorate it with shame.He showed me the chain because chains can be broken.And THAT?That will preach.❤️‍🔥🙏🏿Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!Unapologetically His.Unapologetically yours.