Black History Month Reflection: Love, Rest, and Return

San Diego doesn’t ask anything of me. It simply allows me to exhale.

Exhale.

And maybe that is what this month was about. Exhaling. Whitney said it best years ago in Exhale (Shoop Shoop), and somehow it still feels like a personal reminder. There comes a point where you will exhale. Not because everything is perfect. Not because the work is finished. But because you have decided to release what you have been holding.

Whitney sang it. Our mothers, our aunties, and y’all know we played it long before we understood its significance. We were young girls playing it without fully knowing what it meant.

And somewhere along the way, we learned that sometimes survival looks like breathing out.

Sometimes survival looks like breathing out

Space To Remember

Self-growth is a continuous process that involves learning, adapting, and evolving. This month was not about grand gestures or curated plans. It was about space. The kind that quiets your thoughts, relaxes your shoulders, and reminds you who you are beneath the pace of everyday life.

I spent a weekend by the ocean, the Pacific that is, celebrating my cousin’s birthday. We laughed until our stomachs hurt and talked about life in that way only someone who truly knows you can. Stories stretched long and memories sat comfortably between us. There is a special kind of healing that happens when you are with someone who has known you across seasons. Someone who sees both who you have been and who you are becoming.

Behind it all this month was the steady presence of my husband’s love. The kind that said, “Go recharge.” I am grateful for a partnership that understands that sometimes the most romantic thing you can do is create room for each other to breathe.

Grounded By the Pacific

As I walked along the Pacific, watching the waves, breathing in the fresh air, hiking and moving my body, I felt something settle inside me. The ocean has a way of grounding me. It fills me with both effort and ease.

Gratitude washed over me. Gratitude for love that is secure. Gratitude for family, friends, and places that feel like home. Gratitude for the chance to pause.

The People Who Found Me

One of the many reasons I adore San Diego, at least the way I experience it, is that it is a beautiful reminder that connection is everywhere when you move through spaces with an open heart.

I met Ms. Isabella, a retired jewelry maker whose presence felt like a gentle nudge back toward my own creativity. The way she spoke about making things with her hands, patiently and lovingly, reminded me that creativity is not something we rush. It is something we honor.

I also met Shanita from North Carolina, who instantly felt like family. We laughed about how home is not always a place. Sometimes it is found in the energy you carry wherever you go. If you know me, you know I have never met a stranger. By the end of our conversation, she felt like my newfound cousin. Proof that kinship can appear anywhere when your heart is open.

A Black History Month Reflection

As I write this on the last night of February, closing out Black History Month, I feel a deeper layer of reflection.

This month is often about honoring history publicly. This year, for me, it is also about honoring it privately. In how I rest. In how I love. In how I move through the world as a Black woman who carries resilience and creativity in equal measure.

I think of my grandmother, mother, aunt, cousins, and girlfriends who have always found a way to make something out of nothing. Whether it was stretching a meal or stitching together a life. It is their love, support, and strength that form the foundation I stand on.

Choosing softness is not separate from strength. It is a continuation of it.

Rest, for me, is required. Sacred even. All month long, I have felt the gift and responsibility of honoring the many generations who pushed forward so that I can stand at the water’s edge, breathe deeply, and choose joy unapologetically.

The Way I Move Through This Month

As I close this month, I reflect on my own journey. How I show up for myself. How I show up for the people I love. How I move through the world with intention.

When I am rested and aligned, everything feels steadier. My leadership feels clearer. My creativity flows easier. My joy feels honest.

As February closes, I am not just celebrating Black history. I am carrying it. In how I care for myself. In how I create. In how I connect.

Joy is NOT a Reward

I have posted about joy before, and I will say it again here. Joy, real joy, is not something to earn after exhaustion. It is something to protect. To curate. To return to as often as needed.

Sometimes we travel far just to remember what has always been within us.

Let's Close the Month with Intention

Honoring history is not limited to 28 days within a single month. It lives in how we choose to show up. Rested. Rooted. Intentional.

Love looks like support.

Rest looks like wisdom.

Joy looks like remembering who you are.

And before this month turns the page, I leave you with this gentle question.

Where did you find or hold space this month for yourself, for loved ones, for joy?