As African women in the diaspora, we carry with us an extraordinary legacy: Stories of resilience, hope, and triumph etched into our hearts by the generations who came before us. Yet, living in a foreign land, we find ourselves straddling two worlds, balancing the traditions that shaped us with the new opportunities that challenge us to grow.
To my younger sisters who are navigating this journey, I see you. I want to share a few lessons that I wish someone had shared with me when I started building my life here.
Celebrate Your Identity
Never forget where you come from. Our cultures, languages, and stories are treasures. Embrace them and share them proudly. When I first arrived in the U.S., I remember how much I wanted to blend in. I wanted to soften my accent, shorten my name, and fit the mold of what I thought “success” looked like. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that every time I tried to dim my light, I lost a piece of myself.
Your name is a badge of honor. Your accent is a story. And your heritage is a gift. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise. Teach them to pronounce your name correctly, and if they struggle, remind them gently but firmly.
Seek Education Beyond the Classroom
After landing in the USA, I set myself on path to master everything I could and have certificate to prove it. But life had other lessons for me, too. I learned the most during those quiet conversations with other immigrants. Some were entrepreneurs starting businesses, others were juggling three jobs while raising families, and some were navigating corporate America as the only Black woman in the room.
I met one woman, Eloise, at a networking event, about ten years ago, who told me, “Don’t just learn the system, find ways to work around it. Build your own table.” Her words stayed with me, pushing me to not just seek opportunities, but to create them. Education doesn’t always come from a classroom. Seek mentors, build relationships, and absorb the wisdom of those who have walked the path before you.
Learn the stories of women who have paved the way. I can name a few who played a role in my growth. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Imbolo mbue, Yaa Gyasi, Brene Brown, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and Maya Angelou. Explore their journeys and let their courage fuel your own dreams.
Build Your Tribe
I remember those early days when it was just me and my small family. My days were lonely, though I counted myself lucky to have school and my kids to keep me busy.
Slowly, one by one, I found my tribe. Women who knew the struggles of leaving home, of balancing two cultures, and of trying to create a new life while holding tightly to the old. They became my sisters—women who encouraged me, who lifted me up, and who reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
I’ll never forget the day I met the first of them. I was sitting in the park with my kids, sharing lunch on a sun-dappled bench. A woman walking by stopped abruptly, drawn by the unmistakable aroma. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled and said, “Excuse me, is that jollof rice I smell?”
As we shared that meal, we also shared pieces of our stories. How we had ended up here, what we missed about home, and what we hoped to build for ourselves and our families. After that, I met many more like her. Women with whom I swapped stories and recipes in tiny apartments, the air thick with the aroma of suya, egusi soup, and of course, jollof rice.
That first encounter in the park reminded me of something profound: no matter where we are, we carry our community with us. It might take time to find, but it’s there, waiting to be rebuilt. Find your people. Whether it’s at church, a local cultural event, or even online, don’t be afraid to build those connections. We are stronger together.
Give Yourself Permission to Dream
Growing up, I was always told that the ultimate ambition for a woman was to get married and have children. By the age of twenty-three, I had already checked off both. Some might call it overachieving, but in truth, I felt like I had simply followed the script handed to me. Becoming a mother so young gave me resilience and an unrelenting work ethic, but it also left me bound by invisible chains: the fear of failure, the fear of dreaming too big. Even my choice of education reflected those cautious steps, more focused on practicality than passion.
But something changed when I moved to the United States. Away from everything I knew, the noise of expectations grew quieter, and I found myself asking questions I’d been too scared to consider before. Who was I outside of being a wife and a mother? What did I want for my life? I revisited the dreams I had quietly shelved. The dreams buried under layers of fear, duty, and doubt, waiting for the courage to bloom.
I realized that dreaming wasn’t just for the fearless; it was for the determined. And so, I embraced the idea that it was okay to fail, to stumble, to take risks, and to dream a little bigger.
That decision didn’t just transform my life, it gave me the tools and the courage to help others do the same. Today, I’m able to support entrepreneurs as they navigate their challenges and help women in the diaspora overcome the unique struggles of building a life in their adopted country. These women, just like me, have carried the weight of their responsibilities while holding back their own aspirations. I want to remind them, and you, that it’s never too late to rewrite your story.
So, to anyone reading this: if your dream is to make enough money to support your family back home, that’s admirable. But I challenge you to revisit the dreams you’ve hidden away—the ones you whispered to yourself late at night but were too afraid to chase. Whether it’s starting a business, pursuing an education, or simply finding your own voice, it’s never too late. Embrace your dreams, pursue them, and create a life that reflects not just what you can do for others, but what you can achieve for yourself. You’re capable of so much more than you imagine. Let yourself believe it.
Honor Those Who Came Before, Inspire Those Who Come After
My grandmother used to say, “If you pick up one end of the stick, you also pick up the other.” It was her way of reminding me that life is a balance of blessings and responsibilities. That every choice we make, every path we walk, comes with its own weight to bear.
As women of African descent, we stand on the shoulders of giants. The women who came before us, who fought their battles very quietly, who sacrificed so we could walk through doors that were once bolted shut. They carried the weight of survival so we could dream of thriving.
I often think about my grandmother. She was just fifteen when she was sold into marriage, a punishment to her mother for defying the rigid rules of a deeply patriarchal system. At an age when she should have been carefree, her life became one of duty and struggle. Yet, even in the harshest of circumstances, she managed to raise her family with strength and dignity, teaching us that resilience isn’t just a word, it’s a way of life. Every time I face a challenge, I think of her, standing tall in the face of a system that tried to break her. She reminds me that resilience is our birthright.
And then there’s my mother. My mother, who saw education as the great equalizer, the key to unlocking the future. She valued it above all else, pushing me to see beyond the limitations placed on us as women, as Africans, as daughters of a land rich in culture but often lacking in opportunity.
In everything you do, remember the women who came before you. Remember their stories, their struggles, their victories. Honor them not just with words, but with action.
Strive for excellence, not just for yourself, but for the generations to come. Be a mentor, a role model, a guide. Be the voice that encourages another woman to keep going when the world feels too heavy.
And share your story. Don’t be afraid to tell the truth of your journey, to show the bruises and scars alongside the triumphs. There’s strength in vulnerability. There’s power in connection. Your story might be the light someone else needs to find their way. And in sharing, you’ll honor not only the women who came before you but the women who will follow in your footsteps.
Own Your Narrative
When people read the stories I write, their attention often lingers on the hardships, the heartache of fleeing an abusive marriage, the uncertainty of starting over with nothing, the uphill climb of rebuilding a shattered life. And while those struggles are real, they are only one side of the women in these stories. You must remember: these women are not just survivors. They are mothers, sisters, friends, leaders, and dreamers who refuse to give up hope.
Don’t let anyone define you solely by your struggles. You are not the obstacles you’ve overcome; you are the woman who rose above them. You are the stories of resilience, of laughter after tears, of strength after doubt. You are the embodiment of grace under fire, of determination in the face of adversity.
Write your story on your terms. Don’t let the world frame it only around your pain. Share your triumphs, your lessons, your dreams, and your voice. Let your story reflect the fullness of who you are. The world needs to hear it—not just the hardships, but the victories, the wisdom, the beauty of your journey. You are more than your challenges. You are everything you’ve fought for, and so much more.
As women in the diaspora, we embody Silver Strength, resilient like the metal that endures, unyielding in our pursuit of better lives, and radiant in the light we bring to others. Let us continue to build bridges between our heritage and our future, knowing that we are more than the challenges we face. We are the dreams of our ancestors realized, the hope of our daughters ignited, and the proof that strength and grace go hand in hand.
If you're drawn to stories of resilience, strength, and transformation, I invite you to explore my books. Inspired by real struggles and triumphs, these stories aim to uplift, empower, and connect. Together, let's build thriving businesses and celebrate the narratives that shape us.
Reach out—I’d love to hear your story
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