A truth spoken from generations who endured, to those rising now.

I will not apologize for surviving.
Not for growing wiser. 
Not for finally speaking the truth that once sat like a stone in my chest.

I have endured what should’ve broken me.
I stitched myself back together when the world had no thread to offer.
And still—some want me to shrink, to soften, to forget.

But I am not here to make them comfortable.

Because survival isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s a quiet no.
Sometimes it’s a boundary.
Sometimes it’s leaving the room, the table, or the story altogether.

And sometimes—
it’s saying:

“That happened. It was not okay. But I made it. And I still deserve joy.”

I will not be ashamed of the days I refused to give up.
I will not regret the voice I had to raise in a world that silenced girls like me.
I will not apologize for the fire that saved my life when sweetness couldn’t.

From the children we protect,
to the women we walk with,
to the girls still learning how to breathe again—

We say this together:

“I deserve to feel safe.
I deserve to be free.
I deserve to take up space without fear, without begging, without shame.”

🌿 And to anyone who demands that I go back to the person I was before I healed—

That person does not live here anymore.
But the one who stands in her place?

She is whole.
She is sacred.
And she is not going anywhere.