“But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” — 1 Samuel 16:7
For over a decade, I have carried a quiet urge to change the name of my blog. While I know the heart behind its creation, as I have grown in love and understanding, I’ve realized the title can be seen as controversial. As a woman of faith, I detest anything that adds to racial division; yet, when I first named this space, I was making a necessary declaration. I wanted the world to know that Black women have immense value, despite the cruel narratives often written about us.
If I’m being completely honest, I was also sending a message to the men in our own community who seemed to harbor a deep-seated rejection of the very women who birthed them. I didn’t realize then that their struggle with Black women was often an internal mirror of their own battles with inferiority.
As I’ve matured, I started to feel that I had outgrown this title. I worried it might not be the best representation for me or the women who look like me. We have spent centuries rising from the ashes of social standards designed to make us feel “less than.” I believed the best way to change that perception was by simply being—evolving into the fullness of who God called us to be without a loud label.
When I shared this with my husband, his response was both enlightening and challenging. He felt I should keep the name exactly as it is. To him, the true measure of change isn’t found in changing the name to be “safe,” but in growing an audience that can see past the label to the heart of the message. He believes that if people can extract wisdom and truth from a Black woman’s story, then the “color line” is being crossed in the most authentic way.
But there is a tension here. My husband is Caucasian; his skin isn’t a target in the same way mine can be. My desire to change the name often came from a place of wanting to “shrink”—to make myself smaller and less “offensive” so I could be more easily accepted. He wants me to do the opposite: to grow into the woman of color God intended me to be. I am learning that saying goodbye to the “shrinking” phase is hard, especially when moving through a world that has taught me to walk cautiously. But faith tells me that God doesn’t see us through the lens of division, but through the lens of the heart.
A Prayer for Confidence in Your Own Skin
Heavenly Father, thank You for being a Master Artist who delights in every hue and every heritage. We confess that sometimes the weight of the world makes us want to shrink or hide the very identity You gave us. Today, we ask for the courage to stand tall in the skin You woven for us. Help us to stop looking for permission to exist from a divided world and start looking for our worth in Your undivided love. May we be comfortable in our own identity, knowing that while man looks at the surface, You are looking at the beauty of our hearts. Amen.
The Takeaway
Acceptance from the world often requires us to “shrink,” but acceptance from God empowers us to grow. True “color-line crossing” happens when we stop apologizing for who we are and start sharing the universal truths God has placed within our unique stories.
Black Women Have It Going On 
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