01/26/2026
Jada used to tell me: “Be surgical. Own that you are HER. Act like you know, Mom."
Not loud. Not messy. Precise. Certain.
Sometimes I could do that with ease.
Other times my Pentecostal roots would kick in and I’d find myself in that familiar space of
“stay humble… but let ’em know.”
And then there was Jada.
She didn’t debate my greatness.
She didn’t downplay it to make other people comfortable.
She called me higher.
She taught me that humility isn’t pretending you’re small.
It’s knowing exactly who God made you to be—and standing in it without apology.
So let me say it plainly, with my whole chest and my whole faith:
I am HER.
Not because I chased it.
Not because I performed for it.
But because God designed me this way.
H.E.R.
Healed enough to stop shrinking.
Elevated without asking permission.
Rooted in God, not validation.
I didn’t become HER to compete.
I became HER when I stopped hiding.
And if my light makes someone uncomfortable,
that’s not arrogance—that’s alignment.
Jada knew before I fully did.
She saw it. She spoke it. She expected me to live it.
So here I am.
Still humble.
Still holy.
Still surgical.
And undeniably… HER.
