The Radical Act of Self Love

Loving Yourself is a Revolutionary Act

To love yourself, to embrace every facet of your being, and to present yourself to the world without apology is an act of defiance. Period. Self-love and acceptance are spaces many struggle to reach, tethered by a need for validation and the fear of rejection.

This may be an uncomfortable truth, but it remains undeniable: some people in your circle are most at ease when you are uncertain. Your hesitation is mistaken for humility, your self-doubt seen as grace. As long as you remain unsure, you are palatable. But the moment you step into yourself—when you begin to question, dissect your identity, and explore your place within a culture or community—many of those who once embraced you may pull away.

Society pushes back when people vocalise what it believes should be whispered. This is human nature. But you cannot shrink to fit neatly into the comfort of others' expectations without losing yourself in the process. The stronger and more self-assured you become, the harder it is for others to manipulate or gaslight you. And so, suddenly, you are no longer “humble”; you are too much, too arrogant, too cocky, too "into yourself."

In my younger years, I noticed that people found it easier to connect with me when I was still figuring out who I was. When I was, as I like to call it, navigating the politics of my identity. Back then, everything seemed to flow more smoothly. I let things slide—not because I didn’t care, but because I wasn’t fully aware yet. But the moment I became more assertive, the moment I started speaking up and expressing myself without hesitation, everything changed. Suddenly, I wasn’t as appealing. And in a world that feeds on validation, that kind of shift can be unsettling for some. But for me, it was a pivotal moment of transformation.

Recently, I made a conscious decision to turn off likes and comments on my personal page on Instagram. It’s been my small way of reclaiming my digital space, of saying: I don’t need your validation. I exist—powerfully, beautifully, and unapologetically—without the need for your "likes" or commentary.

Don’t get me wrong, I love social media. I love the sense of community that can emerge in unexpected spaces. I admire the creativity that has flourished among artists from marginalised communities. It's truly remarkable. I remember attending a study session during my teacher training when a white female classmate commented on how incredible it is that so many artists from ethnic minority backgrounds have gained fame and influence through social media. We then spent some time discussing how these platforms have opened doors of opportunity, often exceeding the expectations of traditional gatekeepers, such as publishing houses, for example.

On a personal level, I love watching my friends enjoy new culinary experiences or embark on travelling adventures. I enjoy keeping up with extended family members and watching my nieces and nephews transform from babies to young adults. We’re never really alone or isolated from each other because of the power of social media. These platforms have fostered a form of connection and liberation that no one could have imagined possible.

However, social media has also done something insidious to our psyches. It has conditioned us to parrot the things that are most palatable and to mould ourselves into a version deemed acceptable to be validated and celebrated. Over time, individuality erodes, and conformity becomes the currency. Many withdraw when they feel their true selves don’t fit within palatable constructs. I do the opposite—I lean in. I refuse to shrink. If anyone needs to retreat, it won’t be me. My mama didn't raise me to back down. :)

To exist in the fullness of who you are, to walk in the full knowledge of yourself, is one of the most liberating mental spaces to occupy.

For me, when I’ve experienced anxiety or depression, it has often been linked to the parts of myself I hid—the pieces I hadn’t yet found the language to articulate. But when I sat with myself long enough, when I questioned, researched, and arrived at answers that felt honest—whether I liked those answers or not—I embraced them. And that was where the evolution began. I stopped running from myself and started owning who I am, both the light and the shadows. In doing so, I relieved myself of the burden of carrying a fragmented self.

There is nothing anyone can tell me about myself that I do not already know, that I do not already own. That is my power. That is my freedom.

Yet, I understand why it unsettles people. Self-awareness forces a reckoning—a much-needed reckoning. Because how long can you live in a body that doesn’t fully feel like yours because you haven’t taken the time to know it? How long can you walk in the shadow of an identity you’ve yet to claim?

But where do you start? How do you begin this process? Well, one way is to read.

I implore everyone to read the work of Carl Jung, particularly his exploration of archetypes, the shadow self, and the persona. His insights changed my life. Jung challenges us to confront the parts of ourselves we suppress—the ugly, shameful, and inconvenient truths. It’s like standing in front of a mirror and asking: Who am I, really? And when you find the parts of yourself that are difficult to face, difficult to love, what do you do? Do you bury them deeper, or do you integrate them, learn from them, and evolve? Ultimately, the choice is yours.

The journey to self-acceptance isn’t about perfection—it’s about recognition, reconciliation, and wholeness.

I am looking at the woman in the mirror, and I am thankful for her journey. I am proud of where she has been and excited about where she is going.