A Letter to the Girl Who Doubted

Dear girl who doubted,

You were seventeen and you spent a lot of time making yourself smaller. You thought that was politeness. It wasn't. It was fear dressed up as consideration, and I understand, but I want to tell you something now.

The space you were afraid to take up? It was always yours.

What I know now

I know that speaking loudly is not the same as speaking well. I know that certainty is often the costume of people who have never had to question themselves. And I know that doubt — real, considered doubt — is the beginning of every honest thought I've ever had.

What I wish I could give you

I wish I could give you permission earlier. Permission to be imperfect and present simultaneously. Permission to disagree, to be wrong in public, to take your time, to not have finished becoming.

You'll get there. You already are.

With love and the benefit of years, Niomi