My World
I have been shaped more by culture than by religion throughout my life. And for a long time, I didn’t understand why speaking your mind—having an opinion outside of what’s culturally accepted—felt almost… forbidden.
Why is it so uncomfortable for people when someone thinks differently?
This blog isn’t about race or religion. It’s about culture—the unspoken rules we grow up with. The expectations. The judgments. The quiet pressure to stay within the lines.
I want to hear from you
How were you raised?
Who were you surrounded by?
Was your environment conservative or liberal?
If you said something bold, were you shut down—or were you met with, “Hmm, let’s think about that differently”?
There are so many parts of my life I want to share—not for sympathy, but for connection. Because at the core of it, I want people to feel seen and heard.
Two things I rarely felt growing up.
Not for the right reasons, at least.
People don’t always see how hard you try. They notice the mistakes. They highlight the missteps. Especially as a mother.
No one talks about how difficult it is being a single mom. Instead, there’s always someone ready to say, “I would have done it differently.”
Maybe they would have.
But they didn’t walk this path.
This blog is not about attacking my family. In fact, my family sees my struggles. They know how hard I try. They are grieving alongside me in their own ways.
But culture… culture has a way of distorting things.
You say something, and suddenly it’s retold, reshaped, and delivered back as gossip—as if you’re attacking people you never mentioned.
And if I ever were attacking someone, I would be clear about it.
I’m not.
What I’ve learned this past year is simple, but not easy:
The people who truly care about you are few—your family and a handful of real friends.
Everyone else? They’re watching the show.
So, moving forward, I have one desire:
To be accepted as I am.
And to raise my child to have the freedom to be exactly who he is.
My World (continued)
My world is smaller than most.
It’s not made up of large circles or endless noise.
It’s quieter.
It consists of my family—but at the center of it all is my son.
He is my world.
And everything I do, every lesson I unlearn, every boundary I build…
is so he grows up feeling something I didn’t always feel:
Seen. Heard. Accepted.