We Have Always Belonged

When Beyoncé won Album of the Year at the Grammy’s on Sunday, I felt so much joy and inspiration, something deep in me exhaled. Not because she needed another trophy—she’s been deserving. Not because we needed another reminder—her brilliance has never been in question. But because, of the connected experience we share and the relief that for once, the world finally did what it should have done long ago.

And still, it took too long.

Black women know this experience all too well.
We pour, we build, we carry, we shine—
only to be met with silence, with hesitation, with “not yet.”

We have danced on the edge of acceptance,
close enough to feel it, far enough to know it is never guaranteed.
We have learned to celebrate ourselves loudly,
because waiting for the world to do it has never been an option.

They love what we create, but do they love us?
They nod at our excellence, but do they truly see us?
How often have we been told to soften our voices,
to make our fire more palatable, our light more gentle,
to be less—so others can be more comfortable?

And yet, we keep showing up.
Not because they let us in,
but because we have always belonged. Sit with that.

Beyoncé’s win was a reminder, not a revelation.
A whisper to every Black woman who has ever questioned herself,
who has ever been made to feel like her best was too much or never enough.

Let this be the last time we wait to be chosen.
The last time we measure our worth by the hands of those who hesitate and the last time we shrink, dim, or quiet the brilliance that has always been ours.

So today, I ask you:
Where have you been waiting for permission to be great?
How can you reclaim your power in spaces that weren’t designed for you?
What will you do to celebrate your brilliance—without waiting for the world to catch up?

Photo credit: Essence Magazine