For Traumatized Black Girls Conditioned to Believe That They Aren't Enough...

So, I have been a birth worker for over 5 years but it feels like I’m just getting started. In a nutshell, Imposter Syndrome had been whooping my ass, y’all. It’s taken me a while to grasp that imposter syndrome is something that only exists in my head because it can be such a powerful hindrance. I actively work through it by making a conscious effort to affirm myself when doubt creeps in. Through work with my spiritual advisor (Awo Faleyewa) and therapist (Hey Shania!), I discovered that those crippling negative thoughts that had me “stuck” were never mine to begin with. By processing it all, I was able to pinpoint the source of damn near every negative thought I have ever had about myself. That was monumental in me finding and redefining myself. Bit by bit, I began to release all of the external baggage that I had internalized over the years which made room for beauty, light, love, goodness and hope. Learning to show up for myself has been a journey, but as I do, I notice that my people find me and show up for me too.

In December 2021, I turned 30. I made a promise to myself that I would no longer scare myself out of opportunities or allow intrusive thoughts to rob me of my growth and experiences. I owed it to myself to believe in me and prove all of those nay-saying assholes wrong. It’s a learning curve but dammit, I’m doing it.

That said, I wanna share a little story with y’all…

This past April, one of my doula sisters (JoAn Monsplasir) sent me the registration link for the Baltimore Birth Festival. For the first week, I was in competition with myself for “Best Excuse” but… I made a promise. Also, I knew my sister and homeboy were rooting for me. So, I went ahead and purchased my slot. I spent the next few weeks preparing and then about a week before, the forecast said a thunderstorm was expected the day of- and baby, my black ass don’t do no damn thunderstorms, especially not in a park with literal trees everywhere- the perfect excuse. I could now say, “welp! I did all that I could do. Maybe next time.” So up until the morning of, I straddled the fence and tried really hard to rationalize my decision to stay home. But the impending regret was so much heavier.

I have a history of staying within my comfort zone, fake-free from criticism. But FUCK THAT, I got my shit together and told myself, “if it rains and you gotta pack all this shit up, oh well, at least you showed up for yourself”. I took a deep breath and carried my ass on.

I arrived at the festival on May 15th, proud as hell. Suddenly, fear and anxiety rushed over me when I saw that there was nowhere to park and I had no idea where my section was. I spun the block a few times, tears welling in my eyes, regretting that I didn’t consider either of those factors earlier. I found an empty parking spot and sat and had a full on panic attack. Eventually, I semi-gathered myself, circled back around, found a closer spot and with tears in my eyes, searched for my location. I pushed through the fear, anxiety, shame, resentment, defeat… as best I could. It was painful enough seeing others with their families alongside them supporting and helping to set up, but when I saw the more intricate and beautiful set ups, imposter syndrome hit HARD. I knew my space wasn’t gonna look shit like theirs, it was my first time vending and I didn’t have the means or time to go all out like I wanted. I started to believe that I had bitten off far more than I could chew and I was tripping for even coming. Oh and I left my business cards and brochures (that I poured my heart and soul into) at home. I felt so lonely and ashamed.

But my bestfriend was on the way. She made a commitment to show up and she did - we had a bit of a miscommunication about timing, but she made it safely and ready to roll with one of our babies in tow. While she was in route, we spoke on the phone. I hesitated to share all of my big feelings, but knew that I had to. I had to lay it down. She listened, validated my feelings, encouraged and reassured me. She reminded me that although the morning started off rough, I still had the rest of the day to go. Her presence induced a sense of calm, peace and hope in an utterly chaotic moment that I was certain would span the remainder of my cloudy ass day. When I had to drive 30 minutes back home to get the rest of my things (and redo my now poofed hair- shout out to humidity), she and our baby set up my table and engaged with folks in my absence. For reference, the event started at 10 am, I didn’t get back until almost 11:30 am… but baby, that friend of mine. Inexplicable, the immense gratitude that I have for them.

In case you missed that message— Yo! It’s mad important to allow others to support you. Life is too much to carry alone.

Also y’all… it did not storm, at all. In fact, the sun came out around noon. I remember thinking, “man, I’d be at home PISSED right now if I had stayed home.” Candace pointed out that the sun was literally shining right over my tent. Perhaps she didn’t intend for that to mean as much as it did, but I took that shit to heart. I believe that we have the power to impact the energy and environment around us. To say that I single-handedly made the sun come out may be a bit of a reach, however, I choose to believe that perhaps it was God’s little gift to me and whoever else may have needed it. A way to say, “well done”. I needed that.

Because I showed up for myself in spite of whatever tribulations, I was able to engage with my community. I was able to love on and be loved on by others. I networked. I had a full-circle moment where I had the opportunity of thanking my midwife-doulas for literally changing the trajectory of my life 7 years ago to the day. I was able to display and sell merch that I co-created with Choice Customs, LLC. I learned that love doesn’t always come from the expected source, but it will always make its way to you. I learned my own strength and resilience after pushing through the discomfort of distressing emotions. I allowed myself to feel fear, shame, resentment, sadness, defeat and found strength to push through anyway. And in the end, the sun literally came out to shine on me.

When I show up for myself, I reinforce my knowledge that I am worthy and deserving of occupying any and all spaces. I give myself permission to be big. I WIN.

Just a few weeks later, my amazing Voyage Baltimore interview was published. Then days later something else major happened (that I can’t yet announce) all because I took tiny chances with hope in my heart. I want to also address the importance of the company you keep- my sister, children, bestfriends, doula siblings and clients replenish me. There is no failing -nor falling- with them behind me, beside me, holding me up, rooting for me, cheering me on.

So to all the black girls burdened by their trauma, it’s time to let it go. Stand in your light. Life can be shitty, but if you just hold on, the roses will appear. Yes, people will fail and disappoint you, but they will also pleasantly surprise you. Just keep your eyes peeled and your heart open. Find your own voice amid the chaos and use it to heal yourself and silence those hating motherfuckers who tried to keep you small. Be authentic. Find your path and walk it, your people are waiting for you.

Black girl, your light is too bright to be contained. You are too special to hide in the shadows. Put your chin up, shoulders back and go retrieve every motherfucking thing they ever stole from you.

Ase.

-B.Ladoula