Healing, Honor, and Unexpected Support: My Reflection on Delivering VCU’s Commencement Speech

This is a personal essay and does not represent the positions, strategies, or policies of Voices for Virginia's Children. The article reflects my own experiences and mentions my personal faith, which is deeply personal to me.

A few days ago, I had the profound honor of delivering the commencement address at Virginia Commonwealth University. When I first received the email inviting me to speak, my initial reaction wasn’t excitement—it was disbelief. I stared at the email and thought, Did they email the right person? The doubt crept in quickly: Was I their first choice? Did someone else drop out and they just needed to fill the spot?

It took me some time to process that I had been chosen for this moment. Even as I drafted my remarks, I wrestled with imposter syndrome, questioning whether I was truly the right person to stand on that stage. But over time, I came to realize this wasn’t a mistake. This was a God-ordained moment, one I had been prepared for in ways I hadn’t yet recognized.

When I finally stepped onto that stage, I knew the message I wanted to leave with the graduates was one of healing. It felt like the right message for this moment in history. We’re living in a time where so many of us are navigating uncertainty, grief, and transition. For these graduates, the next four years will bring challenges they can’t yet anticipate. But they will also bring opportunities to reset, to recover, and to build a life rooted in purpose and intention.

Healing, I shared with them, isn’t just about mending what’s broken—it’s about growing stronger in the process. It’s about resting when the world demands more from you and leaning into the discomfort of change. It’s about granting yourself permission to dream, even when the circumstances feel impossible. And most importantly, healing is not just an individual process—it’s a collective one. It requires us to show up for one another and hold space for connection, growth, and love.

But even as I celebrated this career milestone, I encountered something I wasn’t prepared for: the unexpected challenge of not always receiving the support or enthusiasm I hoped for from those closest to me.

In the Black community, I believe this experience is more common than we talk about. You achieve a great moment—something you’ve worked toward for years—and instead of being met with overwhelming joy and celebration, you feel a sense of quiet. The people you thought would be your loudest cheerleaders don’t always show up the way you imagined.

To be honest, it hurt. It left me questioning: Am I doing this for others, or for the purpose I’ve been called to? As someone who loves deeply and pours into my relationships, I naturally wanted to share this milestone with my loved ones and feel their joy alongside mine. But instead, I was left wondering why that joy felt muted.

It’s taken me time to reflect on this, and in that reflection, I’ve started to hear a deeper truth from God: your support won’t always come from the places you expect—it may come from places you’ve never even considered.

I’ve come to realize that sometimes, the people we pour into may not have the capacity to pour back into us. It doesn’t mean they don’t care or don’t love us—it’s just not where their energy is right now. And that’s okay. Because what I’m learning is that God’s plan for my life—and for yours—doesn’t hinge on predictable outcomes or familiar faces. Sometimes your greatest support will come from strangers who see something in you that even your loved ones might overlook. As I was writing this essage (in part to process it all) I recieved one of the most meaningful emails from a former professor who shared "It was one of the most inspiring, honest, and hopeful graduation speeches I have ever heard. It was exactly?what?we needed to hear. Did you feel the ancestors smiling? I did. As you spoke, I felt Maya Angelou's words, "I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave"

This realization has been both freeing and humbling. It’s made me wonder: how many dreams have I let slip away because I felt I didn’t have the right people or enough support around me? How often have I held myself back, waiting for validation that might never come?

The truth is, I’ve been guilty of playing small. I’ve let myself believe that my dreams were only possible if they were co-signed by the people closest to me. But I’m starting to understand that what’s for me won’t miss me—no matter who does or doesn’t show up.

To the graduates I spoke to that day, and to anyone reading this now, I want to share this lesson with you: don’t let the absence of support hold you back from stepping into what you’re being called to do. If you’ve ever hesitated to dream because you felt alone, remember this: God’s plan for you is bigger than what you can see right now. Your support may come from unexpected places, and your blessings might flow through sources you’ve never even imagined.

We all crave connection and validation—it’s human nature. But sometimes, the lack of enthusiasm from those closest to us is a reminder that our purpose is about more than just being seen or celebrated by others. It’s about showing up for the work we’re called to do, trusting that the right people will find us along the way.

Delivering this commencement speech reminded me of my own capacity to rise above doubt, to embrace my calling, and to lean into the unknown. It reminded me that healing is a lifelong process, and that sometimes, the best thing we can do for ourselves is to move forward—even when it feels like we’re walking without a crowd.

To healing, to dreaming, and to stepping boldly into your purpose, trusting that what’s meant for you will never miss you.