What I Am Telling My Daughters About Taking Off the Cape

My Dearest Girls,

Today, I write this with a heart both heavy and hopeful. Heavy, because there is an apology I owe you. Hopeful, because I believe in the strength you possess to live differently, to choose differently, and to find a freedom that even I am only just beginning to understand.

When we become parents, we often look back on our childhoods, examining the lessons we were taught, the values we inherited, and the beliefs we held dear. We think we can sort the good from the bad, hold on to what helped us grow, and leave the rest behind. But wisdom, they say, is like separating the wheat from the chaff—a task that requires patience and vigilance. Sometimes we don’t realize the beliefs we’ve unconsciously passed on, even when they don’t serve us or those we love.

For example, I’ve always tried to model generosity with our resources, hoping you’d understand that sharing is a gift. I would let you take an extra cookie to school, but I’d say, “Take one for you and one for a friend.” I hoped you’d gain a reputation for kindness and generosity, that you’d become known for looking out for others. After all, this is how Black women have held our communities together for centuries—through slavery, Jim Crow, and apartheid. But somewhere along the way, the message blurred. Without meaning to, I taught you that your worth was tied to your labor, your willingness to sacrifice, and your selflessness.

Through church, scouting, and the countless little messages society gives, the same theme echoed: You should put others’ comfort above your own, you should quiet your needs to keep the peace. I want to change that narrative now, before it becomes etched in your lives. For too long, the burden of maintaining peace has fallen to those who never caused the violence or the injustice to begin with. I have spent years unlearning this, and I would be wrong not to share this hard-won wisdom with you.

This year, you’ve experienced your first election. You watched a highly qualified, capable woman stand against a man with a history of harm, deceit, and hatred—and a staggering number of people still chose him. You saw a country that proudly calls itself the world’s greatest democracy nearly reinstate a man who incited a coup, threatened the very fabric of democracy, and discarded the lives of the vulnerable with ease. This is the America you live in, dear Black daughters. Here, democracy’s double-edged sword means that we all must bear the consequences of others’ choices. Yet, as sobering as this may be, there are ways to protect your heart, your sanity, and your spirit in the turbulent times ahead.

More and more, Black women are declaring their intention to divest from a culture that takes so much yet gives so little. Make no mistake: the world loves Black women for our labor, but not for ourselves. They cherish our open spirits, our generosity in service and in friendship, the music of our laughter, the warmth of our embrace. But when the larger culture has no use for us, we become invisible, scorned for the very qualities they once demanded. Who fights for us when we are in need? When we’re hurt, who picks up the cape for us?

Take a moment to reflect on those closest to you, those who’ve shown you the deepest care. Who stands by you when you’re at your lowest? Who lifts you up when you can’t lift yourself? Often, it is another Black woman. And it’s not because I haven’t encouraged you to have diverse friends. It’s because those other friends have historically been taught to choose their own interests above yours.

Today, I am telling you to choose yourself. Take off the cape, the burden of caretaking, the unspoken contract of sacrifice. Let the world sort out its own mess. They would gladly watch you burn if it meant keeping themselves warm. I say this not with bitterness but with a desire to see you live fully and freely, to give you permission to preserve your strength, your joy, and your spirit.

Remember that you are talented, intelligent, and beautiful beyond measure. The people who would seek to draw from you without giving back don’t truly want change—they want comfort. They are not interested in liberation, only in spreading their misery.

If, in your journey, you forget this advice and extend a helping hand where it isn’t deserved or appreciated, don’t be hard on yourself. I will always be proud of the generous, loving young women I’ve raised. This is the seed I’ve planted in you. But remember: no one is entitled to the fruit. The world does not have a right to your spirit, your labor, or your love.

With all my heart, I am cheering for you to walk through this world lighter, unburdened by expectations that have never served you. You have nothing to prove—only a life to live richly, boldly, and wholly your own.

With love,
Mom