Let me tell you something: being a Black woman in this world is both a blessing and a battle, an intricate quilt woven from threads of joy, resilience, and struggle. I’m proud of who I am—don’t get it twisted. I carry my identity with grace and dignity, understanding the rich heritage and powerful legacy that comes with it. The Shapel Monique LaBorde is Le Tired. Still I am balancing the fact that my ancestors fought tirelessly for the rights and freedoms that I enjoy today, and their strength inspires me every single day. Keep going Pelly! But let’s be real, the way life comes at me from all directions is enough to make my head spin.
Every morning, I wake up to a world that often feels like it’s stacked against me. I navigate spaces where I am frequently the only one who looks like me, where my voice can be marginalized or overlooked. In my life, I wear many hats: I’m the caretaker, the boss, the problem-solver, the one who holds it all together while making it look effortless. I juggle the demands of work, family, and community with a sense of duty and commitment that has been called empowering and exhausting. I am the one who steps up when challenges arise, whether it’s at the office, in my home, or within my circle of friends, and let me tell you that circle has been enclosing since I've committed and transformed rapidly to growth and self-love.
Yet, despite my unwavering dedication and hard work, it never feels like enough. There are days when the weight of expectations feels unbearable when the pressure to excel in every aspect of my life is overwhelming. Society often places a higher standard on me, or at least that is what it feels like, expecting me to be not only successful but also to uplift those around me, to serve as a beacon of hope and strength. It’s a heavy burden to bear, and while I strive to meet these expectations, I sometimes wonder if anyone truly sees the sacrifices I make or understands the emotional toll it takes. Or maybe who cares! I DO.
It’s exhausting. It’s overwhelming. It’s overstimulation on every level—mental, emotional, spiritual, physical. At work, I’m expected to be twice as good just to be seen as enough. In a weird space of age and experience, and I do not have a holistic peer at work. What I mean is I am in a weird space where my experience and age are mine alone in a professional community, the people my age do not have my experience or qualifications, and the people with the qualifications and more experience are older than me. At home, I’m the glue that keeps everything from falling apart. It is just me and my daughter, day in and day out. In relationships, I’m the one giving, compromising, holding space, and too often getting the bare minimum in return. At least, that is how I feel. But I must add that by speaking up in this area, I have noticed some return and effort. Shout out to open mouths being fed ;-). And don’t even get me started on society. There’s this unspoken rule that I’m supposed to be strong, resilient, and unshakable, no matter what life throws my way.
That “strong Black woman” trope? It’s a trap. It makes people think I don’t need help, don’t feel pain, don’t deserve a break. But the truth is, I’m tired. Tired of being everything to everyone while almost losing myself in the process. Tired of carrying burdens that aren’t mine to carry. Tired of holding up the world with no one to hold me. This is why I say no. No. No.
Even in spaces that are supposed to be for me, I feel the weight. The microaggressions, the expectations, the invisible labor of navigating a world that wasn’t built for me. It’s like I can never fully exhale. I’m always on, always thinking, always planning. And even when I’m still, my mind isn’t. That’s what overstimulation feels like—like I’m constantly running but never getting anywhere holistically with peace.
Even in spaces that are supposed to be for me, I feel the weight pressing down, an invisible yet palpable burden that permeates every moment. The microaggressions, those subtle yet pervasive comments, and actions that chip away at my sense of belonging, are ever-present at work and even at my academic institution. They manifest in the form of dismissive remarks, assumptions about my abilities, or the constant need to prove myself in environments where I should feel safe and accepted. Each microaggression is like a pebble in my shoe, small but irritating, accumulating over time until it becomes a significant source of discomfort and distraction. Luckily, I speak up and speak out about these things because the embodiment unnerves me. It is also a duty as the new Arts and Humanities Senator on the Student Senate and committee member for the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Committee.
Speaking of duty and expectations, the expectations placed upon me are another layer of this heavy load. There’s an unspoken pressure to excel, to represent not just myself but also my community, to be the embodiment of resilience and strength. This expectation often feels like a double-edged sword; while it can be motivating, it also creates an immense weight of responsibility that is challenging to bear. I refuse to buy into the space of finding myself constantly measuring my worth against these standards, questioning if I am doing enough if I am enough. Because I am enough.
Then there’s the invisible labor of navigating a world that wasn’t built for me, a world that often overlooks my needs and experiences. This labor is exhausting and multifaceted—it involves not just the emotional toll of dealing with bias and discrimination but also the mental gymnastics required to strategize my interactions, to anticipate potential pitfalls, and to protect my own well-being. It’s a relentless cycle of assessing situations, preparing for backlash, and managing my reactions, all while trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy.
It’s a state of perpetual motion without progress, where my thoughts swirl in a chaotic dance, making it difficult to focus on any one thing. The world around me is filled with noise, both literal and figurative, amplifying my anxiety and making it hard to find clarity. I have to stand firm in my vision of well-being. I long for the ability to pause, to breathe deeply and feel the weight lift, even if just for a moment, but the reality is that I remain in this state of heightened awareness, where every interaction feels charged, every environment feels daunting, and every day is a testament to the resilience required to simply exist.
But here’s what I’m realizing: I can’t keep living like this. Rest isn’t a reward; it’s a right. And I’m done apologizing for needing it.
But here’s what I’m realizing: I can’t keep living like this. Rest isn’t a reward; it’s a right. And I’m done apologizing for needing it.
In moments of reflection, I recognize that my journey is not just about personal achievement; it’s also about paving the way for those who come after me. I carry the dreams and aspirations of countless Black women who have come before me, and I feel a profound responsibility to honor their legacy by forging my own path. This duality of pride and struggle is what shapes my experience. I am a warrior, a nurturer, and a leader all at once, and while I embrace these roles with passion, I also yearn for moments of rest, recognition, and relief from the relentless demands of life.
Reclaiming My Peace: Steps to Wellness for Black Women
(Featuring Real Life Photos of My Praxis)
Breaking Up with the “Strong Black Woman” Myth
Being strong doesn’t mean being a martyr. Strength is knowing when to rest, when to ask for help, and when to say, “This ain’t my battle today.”
Making Rest a Priority
Rest isn’t laziness—it’s survival. Whether it’s taking a nap, binge-watching my favorite show, or just sitting in silence, I’m giving myself permission to rest unapologetically. Sometimes I can do it withoutmSage Ali, but I am realizing how I have to model it with herso she can make it a priority.
Drawing My Boundaries
“No” is has always been my favorite word for a while. No to things that drain me. No to people who don’t respect my time. No to the pressure to do it all. My peace comes first. I do not have a barometer of I can't say No. No to anything and anyone when my limit has been met.
Finding My Circle
I’m surrounding myself with people who get it—people who pour into me, lift me up, and remind me that I don’t have to carry everything on my own. Also not giving in to gossip, and foolishness. At least not too much energy, it goes nowhere...fast.
Letting Joy Take Up Space
Joy is my rebellion. I’m doing what makes my soul smile, whether it’s dancing in my kitchen, laughing until I cry, or simply being present with the people I love. Joy is a practice. It is a choice. It calls.
Claiming Safe Spaces
I’m carving out spaces where I can show up as my full self—no masks, no code-switching, no explanations. Spaces where my voice is heard, my feelings are valid, and my rest is respected.
Practicing Radical Self-Care
Self-care isn’t just bubble baths and candles (though I love those too). It’s therapy, it’s exercise, it’s eating well, it’s setting boundaries. It’s taking care of me because I deserve it.
Slowing Down
I don’t have to move at the speed of everyone else’s expectations. I’m learning to pause, breathe, and focus on what truly matters.
Saying Goodbye to Perfection
I don’t have to be everything to everyone. I’m learning to let go of perfection and embrace being human—messy, flawed, and deserving of grace.
Owning My Voice
I’m speaking up for myself—at work, in relationships, in every space I occupy. I’m demanding what I need and refusing to settle for less.
My Reminder to Myself (and You):
Sis, you don’t have to prove your worth to anyone. You don’t have to carry the world on your back to deserve love, rest, or care. You are enough just as you are. Take up space. Say no. Rest without guilt. Be soft when you need to. Joy is your birthright, and peace is yours to claim. Don’t just survive—thrive. Because you deserve every bit of it.
Ultimately, being a Black woman means navigating a complex landscape of beauty and pain, triumph and turmoil. It is a journey filled with both challenges and victories, and through it all, I remain steadfast in my commitment to thrive, to uplift, and to continue fighting for a world where my existence is celebrated and valued.
When you intentionally support Blyssom by Shapel, you are not merely making a purchase; you are actively endorsing and uplifting a micro-small home-based business that is proudly Black woman-owned and Black woman-operated. This enterprise embodies a radical vision for accessible care, beauty, and wellness, striving to redefine the standards of these industries. Blyssom by Shapel is committed to creating products and services that are not only effective but also inclusive, ensuring that individuals from all walks of life can access the benefits of self-care and beauty routines that have often been marginalized in mainstream markets.
The founder's dedication to crafting a space where everyone feels seen and celebrated is evident in every aspect of the business. From sourcing natural ingredients that are both sustainable and beneficial for a diverse range of skin types to creating a welcoming atmosphere that fosters community engagement, Blyssom by Shapel stands as a beacon of empowerment. By choosing to support this business, you are contributing to a larger movement that prioritizes equity and representation within the beauty and wellness sectors. My practice of love and acare is coming live and direct out of South Jamaica, Queens, NYC.
Moreover, your support helps to sustain a model of entrepreneurship that challenges the conventional narratives often associated with beauty and self-care. It promotes the idea that wellness is not a privilege but a right that should be accessible to all, regardless of their background. This commitment to accessibility is reflected in the thoughtful pricing strategies and community outreach initiatives that Blyssom by Shapel undertakes, ensuring that everyone can partake in the transformative power of self-care.
In essence, when you choose to support Blyssom by Shapel, you are becoming part of a transformative journey that champions inclusivity, empowerment, and radical change in the beauty and wellness landscape. Your patronage not only fuels the growth of a small business but also contributes to a cultural shift towards a more equitable and compassionate approach to self-care and beauty.
It is not too late to book an appointment, inquire about services, try a best selling product or take a course. We have a new course teaching and further modeling what a self-love practice can look like for Black women, the “Source of Self-Regard Experience Lab,” a transformative 9-module course created by Shapel Monique LaBorde,me, a Black woman deeply passionate about holistic wellness, beauty, and self-development. This course is your sanctuary—a sacred space where you embark on a journey of profound self-love, self-compassion, and self-discovery.
Whether you’re new to self-love or seeking to deepen your practice, the “Source of Self-Regard Experience Lab” is your guide to fully embracing your worth. Join us in this joyful celebration of your true, radiant self, and discover how these practices can help you stay grounded through your own challenges, just as they’ve done for me.
Thank you for entrusting me with your care and paying me any attention at all!
Comments