What If Leadership Looked Like Healing? A Reflection on Leading with Care and Purpose

Leadership didn’t start for me with a job title or any fancy role. It started when I was just a kid, taking on responsibilities that didn’t feel fair but somehow still felt like mine. I don’t know if I was meant to carry that weight, but I did. And like a lot of us, I learned early how to show up for others before I really knew how to show up for myself.

Even then, I knew I wanted to be in leadership. Not because I wanted control or to be the one calling the shots, but because I genuinely wanted to make a difference. I wanted things to be better. But the more I listened to the people in charge, the more I realized they weren’t really trying to help in the ways I thought they should. Their priorities were different. And honestly, a lot of what mattered to me wasn’t even on their radar.

That’s something Black women know all too well. We’ve always picked up where others left off. We speak up when no one else will. We carry the emotional, spiritual, and physical weight of our communities and still get overlooked, underappreciated, or misunderstood.

When I began stepping into leadership roles myself, I realized how heavy the responsibility truly was. This world has a hard time receiving the wisdom of women, and it gets even more complicated when that wisdom comes from a young Black woman. People look at you like they can’t believe you know what you’re talking about, like you have to prove yourself twice as much just to be taken seriously.

That kind of pressure wears on you. For a while, I started to shrink back. I told myself if they didn’t value my help, then maybe I shouldn’t offer it. I thought pulling away would protect me, but all it really did was disconnect me from the people and purpose I was meant to pour into. I had to learn that choosing not to help doesn’t make the need go away. It just delays the healing, for myself and for others who might need the light I carry.

A big part of what keeps me going is my sister. Since the day I became a big sister, I’ve felt a quiet responsibility to make her proud. I wanted her to have more than what me and my older sisters had. But I used to wonder what that actually meant. Was it just setting a good example? Was it about getting money so I could take care of her? Or was it about trying to change the world she lives in, so she wouldn’t have to fight as hard?

I realized I couldn’t claim to be a changemaker if I was only changing the situation for the people closest to me. If I really wanted to make a difference, it had to go beyond my circle. It had to start with me showing up in rooms where people doubted me and staying there long enough to be heard. That’s how I make change. That’s how I create room for her to walk boldly too. And the hope is that she’ll turn around and do the same, for herself and for someone else.

That’s what leadership looks like to me. It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about being willing to show up with the truth you do have, even if your voice shakes. It’s about choosing to lead with care and integrity when it would be easier to play it safe. And I know I’m not alone in this.

Many of us have been thrust into leadership by circumstance. We didn’t always choose it—it chose us. But we still rise to meet it. We lead in ways that often go unseen, whether it’s through showing up for our families, our communities, or ourselves. It doesn’t always look like a big stage or a viral moment. Sometimes it looks like choosing not to give up when everything in you wants to quit.

Interior Design ID taught me that leadership starts with recognizing your own needs. I saw a gap in wellness that no one else seemed to care about, and even if I was the only one who noticed it, that was enough. I realized I was the one being called to close it, one effort at a time. It wasn’t about recognition. It was about creating something meaningful from the pain and the process I knew firsthand. I share my story because I know someone out there might need it. That’s leadership, too.

I think we’ve gotten confused about what leadership actually is. Especially when it comes to Black women. Social media can make it seem like you have to be loud, polished, or perfect to be respected. But true leadership is so much deeper than that. It’s quiet strength. It’s discernment. It’s choosing purpose over applause.

For me, that clarity came from my faith. I had to ask myself what I was really here for. What was I living for? Who did I want to become? The answers didn’t always match what the world celebrated, but they aligned with what God placed in me. And once I tapped into that, I knew I had to move with intention—even when it wasn’t easy. That’s how you know you’re in alignment. You keep going not because it’s convenient, but because it’s what you’ve been called to do.

And still, it’s so easy to get caught up in everything that looks good from the outside—the image, the praise, the ease. But that kind of freedom comes with a cost. Not just for us, but for our communities and for future generations.

So how do we carry all that and still prioritize our wellness? We start with ourselves. We get honest about what we need. We do the deep, hard healing. We create healing for others, too. And in that process, we start to shift the systems around us.

Even when it feels like we’re alone, we’re not. Black women have always defied the odds. We’ve always led change that wasn’t just revolutionary—it was necessary.

We don’t have to lead like the world tells us to. We get to lead like us. With soul. With truth. With healing. And that’s more than enough..