We Are Not Imagining It

There comes a point when you get tired of shrinking yourself to fit into spaces that keep proving they were never meant for you.

I’ve reached that point.

For years, I’ve been working in an industry that thrives on warmth, community, and hospitality. I’ve given my time, care, and intention to it. I’ve shown up early, stayed late, and carried the quiet responsibility of making things feel seamless for others. And yet, beneath that surface, I’ve been reminded again and again that my effort doesn’t always equal respect. In an industry centered on hospitality and care, I often wonder why that same care is not returned to the very people and positions that provide it.

There’s a specific kind of exhaustion that comes with being a Black woman in spaces that celebrate diversity only when it looks easy. It’s the exhaustion of having to translate your worth in rooms that are comfortable benefitting from your presence, but uncomfortable acknowledging your power. You learn to navigate microaggressions that arrive dressed as compliments. You learn to absorb the subtle dismissals that follow when you dare to set boundaries. And after a while, the silence you maintain starts to feel like you are agreeing to remain unseen.

Letting go, for me, isn’t about leaving a job or giving up on a dream. It’s about releasing the idea that I need permission to protect my peace. It’s about acknowledging that no title or paycheck is worth the constant erosion of self.

Now, I love what I do. I love creating experiences that make people feel connected and seen. But I can’t keep pouring into places that confuse my professionalism for patience, my silence for sameness, or my presence for privilege. My labor, my perspective, and my voice all deserve to exist in spaces that fully see me.

So I’m letting go. I’m letting go of the belief that things will change if I endure. I’m letting go of the idea that belonging has to be earned. Because many of *us* are tired; tired of being the *only one.* Tired of being applauded for our strength when what we really need is fairness. Tired of building spaces for others that never seem to have room for us. And maybe that’s the part no one wants to say out loud. That sometimes, even after all the lessons, what’s left is the ache of knowing how much more work there is to do. Or maybe that sometimes resolution may not be possible. That perhaps we need the courage to look at what’s broken and stop pretending it isn’t.