Dear younger me, 

I wish you could see how proud you become. I know there were moments when you felt unsure when you wondered if you were enough, or if your joy needed to be smaller to fit into certain spaces. 

I wish I could tell you that one day, you’ll understand how powerful it is just to exist as yourself. 

Black History Month used to feel like something external to me: names, dates, lessons on a board. But now, I see it as a conversation across time. A reminder that joy, confidence, and self-love are also part of our history.

If I could celebrate this month with you, I’d tell you to smile more freely. To take up space without apology. To know that your happiness is not something you have to earn.

Today, I honor Black history by being kinder to myself. By recognizing growth instead of focusing on what I lacked. By choosing joy, not because it’s easy, but because it’s deserved. 

This is my love letter not just to who I was, but to who I’m still becoming.