“Everyone is wearing a mask. It takes a lot of courage to admit and be vulnerable.” — Debra Silverman
How Do I Live My Life to the Fullest?
Lately, I’ve been struggling with how to show up as my most authentic self. I find that I can do it around people I trust completely, but even then, there are still pieces of me that I hide—unless I fully let go and stop overthinking. For example, if I’m singing casually with friends, it’s easy for me to join in without hesitation. But when it’s time to sing seriously, just me in front of people, fear creeps in. Singing has become a vulnerability practice for me, and each time I gather the courage to perform, write, or speak, I feel like I reclaim an authentic piece of myself.
But I still question how to show up fully in environments that don’t feel safe for authenticity.
I’ve come to accept that the workplace isn’t always where I can be my full self. In these settings, it often feels like I have to let my work speak for me, rather than my voice. I’ve often questioned if it’s safe to express my thoughts or question things openly. But maybe if I continue to show up authentically outside of work, eventually everything will merge.
I’ve been in conflict for years about the tension between being a teacher and being a creative. They’ve always felt at odds. In public education, I feel pressure to censor myself, but my creative pursuits ask me to be fully honest. Creating calls me to share my experiences with the hope that they will help others, and yet, there’s this fear that by doing so, I’ll be judged—because I’m also a teacher. It feels like a contradiction, especially when I’m critiquing the very system I work within.
I’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship with teaching in public education, religious doctrine, and capitalism—systems that normalize struggle and sacrifice for the “greater good” or for the necessity to “pay the bills.”
Each time I left a job, it was an act of defiance, choosing myself over systems that drained me. It was a decision to live in faith rather than lock myself into a place out of fear.
It’s been a journey of learning who I am and what I truly want. I know I want to do work I love—not just work that pays the bills. The idea of a job that aligns with my passions, a desire to serve, and offers financial stability—that’s what I want. Something that gives me life, that inspires me.
Yet, living in a capitalistic world means I must work to survive. I’ve always sought a career that marries my passions with financial security, but this system constantly asks me to sacrifice my authenticity for a paycheck.
In teaching, there’s this unspoken rule: stay quiet. I hear things like, “We already know teachers don’t make money, so stop complaining,” or “The kids need you to stay because everyone else leaves them,” or even “Be a marigold, not a walnut tree.” While some of this advice is valuable, it also overlooks the very real, lived experiences of teachers, especially in Title 1 schools. It ignores the systemic problems that bleed into our lives as humans.
As a single Black woman, this hits differently for me. I don’t want to trauma dump, but I do believe that sharing our experiences empowers us to change them. We have the power to make change, and we have the right to speak on the realities that affect us.
I want to write about these lived experiences, the structural barriers and history that make things difficult, how stress plays a role, and how the school system is complicit in keeping things as they are.
In the digital age, there is hope. Platforms like YouTube and social media have created new opportunities for Black entrepreneurs and creatives to build careers around their passions. These modern avenues are democratizing access to creative careers. Organizations and initiatives that support Black entrepreneurs are helping to overcome systemic barriers by providing resources, mentorship, and funding.
While there’s still a long way to go, and the legacy of systemic racism and economic inequality continues to impact our ability to pursue passion-driven careers, progress is being made. This is especially significant for single Black women like me who continue to face the tension between economic necessity and creative fulfillment. But I’m hopeful. With the rise of new opportunities in the digital world, there are paths forward for future generations.
As Keke Palmer put it: “Entrepreneurship is about investing in your purpose.” For her, that’s entertainment, but it’s expressed in different ways—hosting, acting, music. She states, “It’s all about seeing yourself as the business and finding ways to share and express that knowledge, instead of feeling cramped in one role.”
I want that personal autonomy in my own creative and professional life. It’s not just about surviving—it’s about finding ways to thrive in this complex world.
Nashema's Blog 