The Universe, woke me up, this morning.

“Your life is about to change”.

How?

In what way?

Breathless, I await.

For?

I know not.

I find myself, breathless.

I have found, myself.

Ah.

Aha!

Your life is about to change, beloveds.

How?

In what way?

Ah.

Aha!

Keep asking.

breathless,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Life woke me up early, this morning. Why? I shall tell you, perhaps, at day’s end. Don’t you have your own present, as in the present, to open? Let us go. Our lives are about to change…

I made some instant coffee.

Instantaneously, two thoughts occurred:

Ewww!

Yech!!

By far, the worst cup of coffee in the history of mankind. I almost drink it. I was raised not to be wasteful. There were starving children, you see, across the world.

What did I do with the worst possible history of mankind? I thought of start with children across the sea, and poured the coffee down the drain. I’m tired of being guilted into doing things. I made a fresh cup of coffee.

I am done doing all the things the world thinks I should. The only things I should do, is to ask myself what I am going to do.

I no longer do things, blindly. I no longer do things, because that’s how they were always done. I no longer do things, because I have to. I don’t have to do anything neither do you.

I’m working on being the best me that I can be. For me. I can’t help what the world does. I can’t help what you do. All I can do is shine my life.

I like my blog because it brings me joy. It pleases me to encourage others. To encourage myself. With my words. Words, that comes from my soul. Words, that makes me laugh. Words, that makes me think. Words, that hopefully makes other people laugh and think.

Staying positive takes work. Doing your best when you’re tired, takes effort. Caring and a world where Caroline is scoffed at, takes real effort. I don’t have to. I choose to. I want to.

I love making it do what it do. I love being about being about. I enjoy making dumb sentences. I enjoy making myself laugh with my own words. I get a kick out of daydreaming about what my life could be. I enjoy being me.

Enjoy your life, beloved. Do things because you choose to. Never because you feel you have to. Or that you should.

Stop lying about what others think of you. What do you think of you? If you are satisfied with your efforts, let that be enough. You are enough. I will keep telling you this, unto you believe me. Until, you believe in you.

Take care of your heart, for it is precious. As are you. You know what I am about to say next:

You are love.

You are not alone.

Keep on being you.

You got this.

I got you.

Rejoicing,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: this is your time. Use it.

• 📫 ❤️‍🩹 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.
• 📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,I have been thinking about honesty.Not the kind we demand from everybody else.The kind that requires us to sit with ourselves long enough to tell the truth about what is happening inside us.👀Because sometimes the hardest person to be honest with is yourself.Sometimes we know something hurts, but we keep calling it fine.Sometimes we know we are tired, but we keep calling ourselves lazy.Sometimes we know we need help, but we keep calling needing help weakness.Sometimes we know something has changed, but we keep trying to live as though nothing did.And sometimes we are so busy trying to make everybody else comfortable with our reality that we stop being honest about our own.❤️‍🩹I have had to learn this in ways I never wanted to learn it.My life changed.My body changed.My speech changed.My independence changed.The amount of effort required to do ordinary things changed.And there have been moments when I wanted so badly to be the Cassandra I remembered that I became impatient with the Cassandra who was actually here.But she deserves honesty too.She deserves tenderness too.She deserves patience too.She deserves to be loved without having to pretend that everything is easy.🪑So I am learning to tell the truth.I can be grateful and tired.I can have faith and still have questions.I can laugh and still hurt.I can celebrate progress and grieve what changed.I can be strong and need help.I can love people and still need boundaries.I can forgive somebody and still acknowledge what happened.I can believe God is with me without pretending every part of this journey feels good.Those truths do not cancel each other.They can sit in the same room.Sometimes they can even sit in the same chair.👀🪑And maybe somebody reading this needs permission to stop performing too.You do not have to tell everybody everything.Privacy is not dishonesty.Boundaries are not dishonesty.Taking time before you speak is not dishonesty.But beloved, please find somewhere you can tell the truth.Even if the first place is inside your own heart.Say:This hurt me.I miss what was.I am angry.I am afraid.I need help.I don’t know yet.I changed my mind.I need more time.I am proud of myself.I survived something difficult.I am learning.I am healing.I am still here.🔑Because honesty can be a key.A key that unlocks shame.A key that loosens the chain of pretending.A key that lets grief breathe.A key that allows joy to be real instead of performed.A key that makes room for healing.And sometimes the truth is not:”I have figured everything out.”Sometimes the truth is simply:”I am trying.”And beloved?Trying counts.❤️‍🩹I am learning not to require perfection from myself before I offer myself compassion.I am learning not to make recovery another place where I have to perform.I am learning that one difficult day does not erase every good day that came before it.I am learning that needing rest does not erase determination.I am learning that receiving help does not erase independence.And I am learning that being honest about what hurts does not mean I have stopped believing that healing is possible.It means I stopped requiring myself to lie on the way there.👀So be honest with them when honesty is safe.Be honest with the people who love you.Be honest with the people helping you.Be honest about what you need.Be honest about what you cannot do today.Be honest about what you are learning to do again.But before all of that—Be honest with you.For me.❤️‍🩹Because I want you here.Not the polished version.Not the pretending version.Not the version exhausted from convincing everybody that everything is fine.YOU.The learning you.The healing you.The laughing you.The crying you.The figuring-it-out-as-you-go you.There is room for that person here.🪑Pull up a chair.You don’t have to resolve everything before you belong.You don’t have to perform strength before you are loved.You don’t have to have all the answers before your life matters.Your life matters right now.Exactly here.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹🪑Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
• THE CHAIR.

Vertigo has been kicking my tail, lately. This morning, I woke to the world spinning madly. What did I do? I got about my day. I’ve move more slowly. I moved, deliberately. I refuse, to let vertigo from enjoying my day.

I made coffee. I wrote. I talked to my twin. I made tater tots. Scrumptious.

Fighting with a chronic illness is no fun. It gets old. Yes, I pray for healing. As the meantime, I keep living. Life is short.

There are days, but I don’t feel like fighting the good fight I don’t feel like fighting, at all. I just want to live. Without all the hard. Life must life be so hard, I ask it. Life, only laugh. And, smiles, at me. Live, life says.

I have had a wonderful day, so far, dragging vertigo with me.

I refuse, to let anything stop me. Not, anymore.

I just stopped by, beloved, to check on. I hope you’re making the most out of your day I hope you’re doing something that will make you smile. I hope you have reached out to someone. I hope…

Be well. Be encouraged.

Look around you breathe deeply. You have done your best, this week. Rest now. You have earned it.

Resting with you,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: obstacles are just that: obstacles. Yet, they are also opportunities. Opportunities to:

Grow.

Stretch yourself.

Learn.

Heal.

July.

Embrace.

Rejoice.

Resolve.

Determine.

Endeavor.

Remain steadfast.

Keep trying. Today, you may be on the losing end. Tomorrow, you may win. Either way, you are in the game. Keep playing. Keep supporting your team. They may lose, this week. They may when, the following. Enjoy their fight. Enjoy your flight. Let’s go, beloved. We got things to do…

Remember:

You are love.

You are not alone.

Keep on being you.

One step.

One step.

One step.

• 📫 ❤️‍🩹 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.
• 📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,I have been thinking about honesty.Not the kind we demand from everybody else.The kind that requires us to sit with ourselves long enough to tell the truth about what is happening inside us.👀Because sometimes the hardest person to be honest with is yourself.Sometimes we know something hurts, but we keep calling it fine.Sometimes we know we are tired, but we keep calling ourselves lazy.Sometimes we know we need help, but we keep calling needing help weakness.Sometimes we know something has changed, but we keep trying to live as though nothing did.And sometimes we are so busy trying to make everybody else comfortable with our reality that we stop being honest about our own.❤️‍🩹I have had to learn this in ways I never wanted to learn it.My life changed.My body changed.My speech changed.My independence changed.The amount of effort required to do ordinary things changed.And there have been moments when I wanted so badly to be the Cassandra I remembered that I became impatient with the Cassandra who was actually here.But she deserves honesty too.She deserves tenderness too.She deserves patience too.She deserves to be loved without having to pretend that everything is easy.🪑So I am learning to tell the truth.I can be grateful and tired.I can have faith and still have questions.I can laugh and still hurt.I can celebrate progress and grieve what changed.I can be strong and need help.I can love people and still need boundaries.I can forgive somebody and still acknowledge what happened.I can believe God is with me without pretending every part of this journey feels good.Those truths do not cancel each other.They can sit in the same room.Sometimes they can even sit in the same chair.👀🪑And maybe somebody reading this needs permission to stop performing too.You do not have to tell everybody everything.Privacy is not dishonesty.Boundaries are not dishonesty.Taking time before you speak is not dishonesty.But beloved, please find somewhere you can tell the truth.Even if the first place is inside your own heart.Say:This hurt me.I miss what was.I am angry.I am afraid.I need help.I don’t know yet.I changed my mind.I need more time.I am proud of myself.I survived something difficult.I am learning.I am healing.I am still here.🔑Because honesty can be a key.A key that unlocks shame.A key that loosens the chain of pretending.A key that lets grief breathe.A key that allows joy to be real instead of performed.A key that makes room for healing.And sometimes the truth is not:”I have figured everything out.”Sometimes the truth is simply:”I am trying.”And beloved?Trying counts.❤️‍🩹I am learning not to require perfection from myself before I offer myself compassion.I am learning not to make recovery another place where I have to perform.I am learning that one difficult day does not erase every good day that came before it.I am learning that needing rest does not erase determination.I am learning that receiving help does not erase independence.And I am learning that being honest about what hurts does not mean I have stopped believing that healing is possible.It means I stopped requiring myself to lie on the way there.👀So be honest with them when honesty is safe.Be honest with the people who love you.Be honest with the people helping you.Be honest about what you need.Be honest about what you cannot do today.Be honest about what you are learning to do again.But before all of that—Be honest with you.For me.❤️‍🩹Because I want you here.Not the polished version.Not the pretending version.Not the version exhausted from convincing everybody that everything is fine.YOU.The learning you.The healing you.The laughing you.The crying you.The figuring-it-out-as-you-go you.There is room for that person here.🪑Pull up a chair.You don’t have to resolve everything before you belong.You don’t have to perform strength before you are loved.You don’t have to have all the answers before your life matters.Your life matters right now.Exactly here.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹🪑Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
• THE CHAIR.

When can you, stop?

After.

After you have, crossed the finish line.

When can you, quit?

After.

After you are, done.

When can you, walk away?

After.

After you have, won.

When can you, forget about your dream?

After.

After your dream, has come true.

When can you, stop believing, in love?

After.

After you are, lying in the arms, of your lover.

When will you, stop?

After.

After, all things have worked out for your good.

Keep going, beloveds. You have a happily ever ‘after’ to live.

Believingi n you,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: it’s so easy, to give up on ourselves and on our dreams. It’s so easy, 210 walk away. It’s so easy, to allow disappointment to keep us from trying again. Don’t take the easy way out. Keep going. Things will turn out for your good. Maybe, not the way you thought they would, but how life chose him to be.

You could do much more than you give yourself credit for. Fight for you. Fight for your dreams. Fight distractions. Find fear. Fight despair. Fight discouragement. Fight disappointment. Keep trying.

Life is what you make it. You have one life to live. Enjoy your life. All of it. Take a moment. Take a breath. Take one step. Then, another step. Don’t worry about the end result. Don’t work. Do you best. Be satisfied with that. It’s all you can do. Just try.

You can do this thing called life. You will.

Remember:

You are loved.

You are not alone.

Keep on being you.

One step.

One step.

One step.

Note number two: my woman is going to get mad, because I did not capitalize the word not after you are not alone. Also, she is going to laugh because she’s also going to get mad because I didn’t put the three dots in between being in you and capitalize you.

I did this on purpose. I keep telling her, that you don’t always have to keep writing the same way. I keep telling her, sometimes you have to change your expectations. People are used to seeing things the same way. I have been working on trying to see things differently. I have been working on trying new things.

I’m learning how to color outside the lines things don’t have to be perfect. My tribe does not have to be perfect. I don’t have to be perfect. I just need to try. I do. I will. I’ll try.…

• 📫 ❤️‍🩹 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.
• 📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,I have been thinking about honesty.Not the kind we demand from everybody else.The kind that requires us to sit with ourselves long enough to tell the truth about what is happening inside us.👀Because sometimes the hardest person to be honest with is yourself.Sometimes we know something hurts, but we keep calling it fine.Sometimes we know we are tired, but we keep calling ourselves lazy.Sometimes we know we need help, but we keep calling needing help weakness.Sometimes we know something has changed, but we keep trying to live as though nothing did.And sometimes we are so busy trying to make everybody else comfortable with our reality that we stop being honest about our own.❤️‍🩹I have had to learn this in ways I never wanted to learn it.My life changed.My body changed.My speech changed.My independence changed.The amount of effort required to do ordinary things changed.And there have been moments when I wanted so badly to be the Cassandra I remembered that I became impatient with the Cassandra who was actually here.But she deserves honesty too.She deserves tenderness too.She deserves patience too.She deserves to be loved without having to pretend that everything is easy.🪑So I am learning to tell the truth.I can be grateful and tired.I can have faith and still have questions.I can laugh and still hurt.I can celebrate progress and grieve what changed.I can be strong and need help.I can love people and still need boundaries.I can forgive somebody and still acknowledge what happened.I can believe God is with me without pretending every part of this journey feels good.Those truths do not cancel each other.They can sit in the same room.Sometimes they can even sit in the same chair.👀🪑And maybe somebody reading this needs permission to stop performing too.You do not have to tell everybody everything.Privacy is not dishonesty.Boundaries are not dishonesty.Taking time before you speak is not dishonesty.But beloved, please find somewhere you can tell the truth.Even if the first place is inside your own heart.Say:This hurt me.I miss what was.I am angry.I am afraid.I need help.I don’t know yet.I changed my mind.I need more time.I am proud of myself.I survived something difficult.I am learning.I am healing.I am still here.🔑Because honesty can be a key.A key that unlocks shame.A key that loosens the chain of pretending.A key that lets grief breathe.A key that allows joy to be real instead of performed.A key that makes room for healing.And sometimes the truth is not:”I have figured everything out.”Sometimes the truth is simply:”I am trying.”And beloved?Trying counts.❤️‍🩹I am learning not to require perfection from myself before I offer myself compassion.I am learning not to make recovery another place where I have to perform.I am learning that one difficult day does not erase every good day that came before it.I am learning that needing rest does not erase determination.I am learning that receiving help does not erase independence.And I am learning that being honest about what hurts does not mean I have stopped believing that healing is possible.It means I stopped requiring myself to lie on the way there.👀So be honest with them when honesty is safe.Be honest with the people who love you.Be honest with the people helping you.Be honest about what you need.Be honest about what you cannot do today.Be honest about what you are learning to do again.But before all of that—Be honest with you.For me.❤️‍🩹Because I want you here.Not the polished version.Not the pretending version.Not the version exhausted from convincing everybody that everything is fine.YOU.The learning you.The healing you.The laughing you.The crying you.The figuring-it-out-as-you-go you.There is room for that person here.🪑Pull up a chair.You don’t have to resolve everything before you belong.You don’t have to perform strength before you are loved.You don’t have to have all the answers before your life matters.Your life matters right now.Exactly here.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹🪑Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
• THE CHAIR.

I have been fighting with the cold for more than a week. I took one day off. I should’ve taken an extra day. I thought about bills. I thought about needing to get back to work. I thought about everything but me. My body begged to differ. My body, asked for another day. To rest.

I chose me. I was hungry. It was midnight. I wanted french fries. Points french fries at midnight? I thought about my past life of always doing things I thought I should do. I told should to shut up. I may french fries, at midnight.

I think it’s time, for folks to start using them. Choose you, beloved. Choose french fries at midnight, at times. Life is short. Time to stop overworking yourself. Time to stop worrying about everybody but you. It’s time, don’t you think?

I took an extra day. I left the writing alone. I told the universe to take care of the world. I take care of me. The older I get, the more I understand I need to do the things I have been putting off. I don’t know how much time I’ll have. Neither do you.

I say we tried all kind of ridiculous things, and see what happens.

Trying new things,

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

Note: Thanksgiving is next month. We all have things to be thankful for. Be thankful, now, for the things you have now. Stop focusing on what you don’t have, yet. Those things will come. Or, they may not. Your life is still full. Be encouraged and know you are loved and not alone. It’s easy to feel alone. Even, in the midst of a crowd. It’s easy, to think we are not seen. It’s easy, to want to give up.

I have been writing a lot about not giving up. Why? Because, I have to keep talking myself into not giving up. I’m 54. I wonder how much time I have left. I wonder, if I’m wasting my time. The moment I think that, I tell myself to shut up. I know, my life is having an impact. I just can’t see it. I don’t think we’re supposed to know the impact we really have.

Be encouraged. This economy, is quite discouraging. The climate we live in, is quite discouraging. The way people are acting, is quite discouraging. All we can do, beloveds, is to keep doing the best we can. All we can do, beloveds, is to keep being the best person that we can be. All we can do, beloveds, is to keep trying the best we know how. The rest will come out in the wash…

How much…

Are your dreams, worth?

How much…

Sweat equity, are you willing to put out?

How much…

Are your passions, worth?

How much…

Effort, prayer, faith, will you use to see these things through?

How much…

Time will you waste, doubting your try?

How much…

Time do you have?

How much…

Are you loved?

Infinitely!

How much…

Does God, Life, and The Universe, believe in you?

Infinitely!

How much…

Do I pray and hope for you?

Infinitely!

Life is short. Be encouraged. You are worth so much more than you know. Be good to you, okay? Asking for a Friend.

Cassandra

#YourLifeMattersToMe

• 📫 ❤️‍🩹 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.
• 📫 BE HONEST WITH THEM. FOR, ME. ❤️‍🩹Beloveds,I have been thinking about honesty.Not the kind we demand from everybody else.The kind that requires us to sit with ourselves long enough to tell the truth about what is happening inside us.👀Because sometimes the hardest person to be honest with is yourself.Sometimes we know something hurts, but we keep calling it fine.Sometimes we know we are tired, but we keep calling ourselves lazy.Sometimes we know we need help, but we keep calling needing help weakness.Sometimes we know something has changed, but we keep trying to live as though nothing did.And sometimes we are so busy trying to make everybody else comfortable with our reality that we stop being honest about our own.❤️‍🩹I have had to learn this in ways I never wanted to learn it.My life changed.My body changed.My speech changed.My independence changed.The amount of effort required to do ordinary things changed.And there have been moments when I wanted so badly to be the Cassandra I remembered that I became impatient with the Cassandra who was actually here.But she deserves honesty too.She deserves tenderness too.She deserves patience too.She deserves to be loved without having to pretend that everything is easy.🪑So I am learning to tell the truth.I can be grateful and tired.I can have faith and still have questions.I can laugh and still hurt.I can celebrate progress and grieve what changed.I can be strong and need help.I can love people and still need boundaries.I can forgive somebody and still acknowledge what happened.I can believe God is with me without pretending every part of this journey feels good.Those truths do not cancel each other.They can sit in the same room.Sometimes they can even sit in the same chair.👀🪑And maybe somebody reading this needs permission to stop performing too.You do not have to tell everybody everything.Privacy is not dishonesty.Boundaries are not dishonesty.Taking time before you speak is not dishonesty.But beloved, please find somewhere you can tell the truth.Even if the first place is inside your own heart.Say:This hurt me.I miss what was.I am angry.I am afraid.I need help.I don’t know yet.I changed my mind.I need more time.I am proud of myself.I survived something difficult.I am learning.I am healing.I am still here.🔑Because honesty can be a key.A key that unlocks shame.A key that loosens the chain of pretending.A key that lets grief breathe.A key that allows joy to be real instead of performed.A key that makes room for healing.And sometimes the truth is not:”I have figured everything out.”Sometimes the truth is simply:”I am trying.”And beloved?Trying counts.❤️‍🩹I am learning not to require perfection from myself before I offer myself compassion.I am learning not to make recovery another place where I have to perform.I am learning that one difficult day does not erase every good day that came before it.I am learning that needing rest does not erase determination.I am learning that receiving help does not erase independence.And I am learning that being honest about what hurts does not mean I have stopped believing that healing is possible.It means I stopped requiring myself to lie on the way there.👀So be honest with them when honesty is safe.Be honest with the people who love you.Be honest with the people helping you.Be honest about what you need.Be honest about what you cannot do today.Be honest about what you are learning to do again.But before all of that—Be honest with you.For me.❤️‍🩹Because I want you here.Not the polished version.Not the pretending version.Not the version exhausted from convincing everybody that everything is fine.YOU.The learning you.The healing you.The laughing you.The crying you.The figuring-it-out-as-you-go you.There is room for that person here.🪑Pull up a chair.You don’t have to resolve everything before you belong.You don’t have to perform strength before you are loved.You don’t have to have all the answers before your life matters.Your life matters right now.Exactly here.One step.One step.One step.🔑❤️‍🩹🪑Asking for A Friend,Cassandra#YourLifeMattersToMeNote: One step. One step. One step. You are loved. You are NOT alone. Keep on being…YOU!
• THE CHAIR.