More Than Enough: Claiming Space for Who You Are (No Matter What They Say)

by Elaine Welteroth

We don’t prioritize our time with ourselves. We rarely set aside moments to be still, to access our center. And the bottom line is, when we don’t focus on our inner light, it dims.

Whenever I remember that Life is for me, not against me, I hear and see and feel it all.

the bad is our choice and the good is our choice. And to work to choose the good. Every day. In every way.

Because no one can share my truth but me.

When you exist in spaces that weren’t built for you, remember sometimes that just being you is the revolution.

you continue crafting the life you want, I hope you are reminded that it is the very things you underestimate about yourself that will help you create your own magic.

when the world tells you to shrink, expand.

years, I felt like an imposter with a hidden flaw waiting to be found out. I worried that I might be stained, too, just like that check in my dad’s pocket. So I worked harder to deny failure and shame a place in my life. I learned to excel by not looking at it. I ran away when I needed to. Full speed ahead. In the fast lane. Onward. Into new people, new places. I often fell into the potholes of perfectionism. No matter what, I got back up and positioned myself in the light. But like a shadow, shame follows wherever you go. Until you make peace with it. Over time I’ve learned to accept and even appreciate this part of my story. What I discovered is that my dad is beautifully flawed just like the rest of us, and his struggles played an important role in making me who I am. And I’ve learned to love who I am. Even if certain parts were forged by fire. Sometimes the things that hurt the most propel you the farthest.

Every day we curl over our phones, endlessly scrolling, falling deep into comparison traps, searching for superficial forms of validation in likes, mentions, and follows.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. MAYA ANGELOU, VIA OPRAH, VIA DEBRA WELTEROTH,

teams. You learn to get used to being one of few brown bodies in White spaces. And I had gotten really good at it.

Part of getting comfortable with the discomfort of being the only brown body in White spaces is readying yourself for the next time a racist slur or an ignorant question might fly in your face without warning.

“You are so much bigger than you even know.”

But our job is to keep on dreaming and trusting enough to put one foot in front of the other. To keep moving forward. To keep pushing beyond whatever feels confining. To keep searching for where the magic is. To continue expanding, staying open to being stretched. And allowing room to be completely awed by how much better it gets along the way.

And because no one was acknowledging me, I didn’t talk much. And because I didn’t talk, I felt like they thought I was stupid. It became a self-perpetuating cycle that I was too paralyzed by anxiety to break.

So I just kept praying, asking God for divine confirmation: “Send me a sign. Reveal to me why I am here. Make it so clear that there is no doubt in my mind of what I’m meant to do.”

She was dedicated to helping Black women look, feel, live, and love better.

The world doesn’t prepare girls—especially little brown girls—to see the bigness of their dreams. It doesn’t train us to embrace the expansiveness of our own possibilities.

When women affirm women, it unlocks our power. It gives us permission to shine brighter.

She was early evidence that a truly confident leader stands in her power without using it to make others feel small. She ran the show with integrity, grace, kindness, and class.

I realized that if we aren’t vigilant, we can move through our entire lives feeling smaller than we actually are—by playing it safe, by unconsciously giving away our power, by dimming our radiance, by not recognizing there is always so much more waiting for us on the other side of fear.

If they don’t give you a seat at the table, bring a folding chair. SHIRLEY CHISHOLM, FIRST BLACK WOMAN ELECTED TO CONGRESS

That first dose of career FOMO hits hard.

learned that being underestimated can be one of the greatest motivators.

(PLEASE NOTE THE ABSOLUTELY INSANE AUDACITY OF A MILLENNIAL IN HER TWENTIES.)

in business, no matter how much value you bring, you will always be disposable.

“Falling down is inevitable. It’s the getting back up that’s on you.”

Looking back now, I realize we need to learn as women to trust that bad feeling the first time, and not try to will it away.

If you ever find yourself walking on eggshells and contorting yourself into ill-fitting ensembles just to prove yourself in a relationship, run. Fast. And do not look back. He ain’t The One.

Assimilating became my M.O. for survival in spaces I wasn’t yet convinced I belonged

had to understand things about beauty that would never pertain to my own experience—from the art of self-tanning to how to make limp hair more voluminous.

While I was excelling at work, I was conscious of how my race, age, and working-class background all contributed to this feeling of “otherness” that seemed to trail me like a shadow in these new, rarefied spaces I was being welcomed into. And no matter how well I appeared to be assimilating, inside I struggled with feeling like an imposter.

What I know now is that when we derive our worth from the relationships in our lives—the intimate ones, the social circles we belong to, the companies we work for—we give away our power and become dependent upon external validation. When that is taken away, our sense of value, and identity, goes with it.

feelings. I thought I was just a girl who worked hard to get a great job. To the rest of the world, I was a Black girl making history.

It reminded me that no matter how much you try to blend in, your race walks into every room before you do.

For the first time, I embraced what made me different—the very things that had made me feel like an outsider—as my superpower.

Rather than trying to be what I wasn’t—in my work and in my life—I made a conscious commitment to fully own everything that made me who I am. Because those were the very things that made my point of view as an editor that much more valuable. It wasn’t easy and it didn’t happen overnight, but I set the intention.

Yet we are expected to learn quickly how to walk the often precarious line between representing an underrepresented perspective without speaking in sweeping generalizations that trod on the White power structure that gave you the platform to begin with. At times it can feel as if you are being asked to carry the torch for an entire race of people who never had our voices, our experiences, our cultures represented with dignity in mass media. It’s a dance you learn quickly because, ready or not, it comes with the FOD territory.

And bosses know it isn’t the length of their hair that makes them beautiful or powerful.”

In an era that applauds even the most superficial embrace of diversity, equating tokenism with progress, I was determined to use the opportunity I was given to make a difference by bringing more of my authentic self to the role.

As an FOD, sometimes just being yourself is the radical act. When you occupy space in systems that weren’t built for you, your authenticity is your activism. But doing any radical work that has the power to shift systems—especially from within a corporate structure—requires allyship. Before

was pushing for conscious inclusion because it was vital, but at the time it seemed to be perceived as an unnecessary complication and perhaps even taking a cover opportunity away from a credible, qualified White hair stylist who was more familiar—one who already had countless covers under their belt.

“There’s a secret language shared among black girls who are destined to climb mountains and cross rivers in a world that tells us to belong to the valleys that surround us,”

“I feel like the only way to fight that is to just be yourself on the most genuine level and to connect with other black girls who are awakening and realizing that they’ve been trying to conform.”

There is power in speaking your dreams into existence.

looked up to the sky to remind myself that God has a greater plan even for the things we cannot understand.

AS A CULTURE, WE love a celebration. We love a first. We hold them high. We all marvel at headlines and highlight reels. But we rarely discuss the marks and scars and bruises that come with breaking through glass ceilings.

ONE LESSON I LEARNED the hard way: Never give your number before you’re ready to. Do not allow anyone to force you into a negotiation that you haven’t had time to prepare for. You can simply say, “I’d love to take the night and come back to you on that first thing.”

Women are taught to work hard and to play by the rules. We are taught to never overstep, to stay in our lane, to keep our head down, to go with the flow, to never be too loud or disagreeable. Not to be bossy. Not to be pushy. We are not encouraged to know our worth, let alone to demand it. We are not given the tools to fight for ourselves or taught to challenge authority. Instead, we are taught—in subtle and overt ways—to give up our power, to take what we can get, and to be grateful. Whatever it is, whatever it takes, you just do it. And you do it well. With a smile. Whether it feels good or not.

Women aren’t taught to get comfortable with making people uncomfortable.