Hey y’all, it’s BLove—and today I want to get real about something that hit deep during a recent heart-to-heart with Darius. It’s one of those conversations that many people avoid, but honestly, it’s way past time we open up about it: identity, how we speak, and the struggle to feel accepted—even within our own Black community.
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Being Judged By Our Own
One of the hardest truths Darius and I had to face out loud was this: sometimes, the hardest place to feel accepted is right at home—within our own culture.
Darius said something that shook me:
“Why can’t I speak the way I speak, still be Black, and be accepted in the Black community?”
That question came out raw, filled with emotion—and I felt every word. Because I’ve been there. So many of us have. There’s this unspoken pressure to "perform Blackness" a certain way—to sound a certain way, dress a certain way, even move a certain way—or else we’re called “not Black enough.”
And I had to tell Darius, just like I’m telling y’all now:
“Black people come in all flavors, shapes, looks, and colors. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks—they didn’t fight for us to be boxed in. They fought for freedom. And freedom means being your full self.”
We’re not a one-size-fits-all community. We’re vibrant. We’re layered. We’re like a bag of Skittles—not Hershey Kisses. Every color, every flavor—still part of the same bag. Still valid. Still powerful.
The Way You Speak Doesn’t Define Your Blackness
Darius talked about how his way of speaking has made some people side-eye him—like he’s performing for another culture or not representing "correctly."
And let’s be real—this happens way too often. We can joke about code-switching, but for many of us, it becomes survival. And it shouldn’t be like that.
I looked at Darius and told him something I’ve had to live through:
“You can want the world to accept you as you are—but this world doesn’t always play fair. So sometimes, we do what we need to do to move forward. That’s not selling out—it’s staying in the game.”
I wasn’t telling him to change who he is. I was reminding him that there’s power in knowing when to speak their language while never losing your voice.
My Own Battle With Acceptance
Then I opened up about my own journey—specifically, my locs. Because trust me, people had plenty to say.
“Do you know how many people came at me when I had my little locs?”
“That ain’t the real her.”
“She looks better with a wig.”
And I had to sit with those comments. But here’s the thing—I never changed inside.
“I never went anywhere. I’m still BLove. Same heart. Same spirit. Same grind.”
Whether it was a wig, a twist-out, or locs halfway down my back—none of that changed who I was.
What I reminded Darius—and myself—is that our true supporters don’t care about our hairstyle or our accent. They care about our heart. And that love? That’s real.
It’s Time to Stop Policing Each Other
This conversation reminded me that we need to stop tearing each other down for not fitting a mold. We are not a monolith. Being Black is not about fitting one definition—it’s about thriving in all our forms.
We need to stop acting like there’s one right way to speak, love, dress, or express yourself. That’s not culture—that’s control.
And I’ll say this loud and clear, just like I told Darius:
“Keep it cute or get c-u-t. Period.”
Let’s stop using judgment as a gatekeeper and start using love as a bridge. The more we embrace the full spectrum of who we are, the stronger we become.
Let me know your thoughts below—because these are the conversations that push us forward.
