When my freelance writing career began to pick up back in the day, an editor reached out to me to write a print piece on feminism, and boy did I ever.
If you’ve been here for five minutes, you already know that rah-rah speeches about unity are not my ministry. I’ve got that thing my mama gave me that Natasha Lyonne has in Poker Face. Bullshit!
The point of the article was to discuss how men and women could partner together for a more just world. So, through a personal narrative lens, I unpacked disparities; lack of access to networks, medical care, and childcare; the compounding factors of poverty and race; the fact that feminism benefited rich white women more than anyone else; power dynamics in women’s movements throughout history.
One of my favorite moments in research for the piece was asking my mom, “Where were you during that period, Mama?” and her responding, “Oh princess, that movement wasn’t for me. I was working at the mill before I got my nursing license with two babies. It wasn’t for me.”
“It wasn’t for me.”
The biggest critique of feminism is everybody they left out. It takes power to make changes, and people at the top of any food chain are often blind to the needs of those who are organized intentionally beneath them.
The editor read the piece and wrote in the margins, “Ashley, you are so many things.”
I chuckled. If I could interpret her words: Ashley, it’s too much. We went back and forth about what felt necessary for the final. I couldn’t do a fluff piece to inspire men and women to work together, and I couldn’t leave out why there’s a cavern between the sexes and between women with varying amounts of privilege from citizenship, education, wealth, and ability.
My pushback was that people needed the whole story to understand why things are the way they are. It’s harder to teach, and it takes more time, but you don’t get to the future by skipping over history, over reality.
You don’t solve anything by believing everything isn’t interconnected.
Her pushback is that people sink under the burden of information. Fair! We settled on a middle in three rounds of edits, and the magazine went to print. I stayed on as a writer for several years with that team, and I think about that feedback often.
What if less isn’t more?
I get it. Believe me, I’m knee-deep in culture books for a work project, and I don’t know how half of them made it to 200 pages. When it comes to writing, sometimes 50 pages would have been fine. Fifty words might have covered the big idea. (Want to be a good leader? Don’t be an entitled jackleg overlord! Simple!)
But there are times when we dance on the surface of an issue when a Krump at the root would be more appropriate. Context and nuance are required to bring understanding, particularly to matters of injustice. Repetition is formation, and as the saying goes, history repeats itself. Understanding patterns and connections can bolster convictions and foster necessary changes.
I’ve wondered my whole life if I’m too much. I am skilled now in ignoring that little devil on my shoulder that berates me after every conversation, meeting, or share. “You said too much. You did too much. You are too much.” But the little bastard hasn’t gone away.
People - especially women - vacillate between feeling like we are too much and never enough.
There are times when you will be too much for others. So what? Recovery has helped me realize that sometimes “too much” is the right thing and sometimes not. Our self-worth is not dependent on getting everything right all the time, and other people’s opinions and expectations of us do not have the power to define our existence unless we let them.
So look, I’m grateful for the times I pushed hard, told the truth, and took it too far. “Get in good trouble,” as John Lewis said. At the same time, I’m grateful for friends like my beloved sister, LaTrayl, who once said, “Ashley, you’re at a ten, and I’ma need you to take it to a two.”
There are times when you will not be enough for others. So what? Let them deal with their own disappointment and learn to communicate it. Another thing recovery taught me is that the grace of God holds. I am not enough of anything to parent and nurture our three babies, work full time, manage my life, and stay sober. What I know is that grace is sufficient for me. We discover a superpower in our weaknesses and limitations.
As for the people and places that are hellbent on making you feel small or keeping you small? Bless their little hearts and go. You’ll never be enough for them, and you know what? You don’t want to be. Don’t waste your life trying to please people who can’t be pleased, trying to earn your spot on a team that isn’t worthy of your investment. Sometimes feeling “never enough” is not about you, but about the insecurities and envy of others.
Like many of my editors and I have, I hope we can find that sweet spot in the middle where we know and trust that: You’re not too much. You are enough. You are brilliant and beautiful and so insanely loved. If you were leaving my house after this, I’d hug you so tight and remind you to give ‘em hell.
In love and solidarity,
Ashley
P.S. For paid subscribers, I did an interview with Lisa Sharon Harper for the mentor series I’m hosting. It’s a 45-minute video with transcript and it is jam-packed with gold nuggets of wisdom. If you’d like to support my work and learn from my mentors, I invite you to become a paid subscriber.
Ok, hands down my favorite essay you've ever written. SISTERRRRRRRRRRRRR! Also, yes to what your mama said! Say it, Anne!!!!!
Excellent discussion. Took screenshoots to share. Thank you for being a ten 🥰