My grandma used to always say: “Stay watchful, stay prayerful.”
At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. But now I see. I watch people, and that watching has become one of my boundaries. At first, it felt selfish.
But I’ve come to realize that it honors my cultural values and my legacy as a being. I have been disappointed, shocked, challenged—by what I thought people should do versus what they actually do.
Setting boundaries is new to humanity. We have always had very loose ones. Many of us come from codependent family relationships, codependent romantic relationships. Even in how we’re brought up as children—particularly in America—we’re shaped by one history book, one type of schooling, one style of education. That narrowness limits our awareness of when our personal boundaries are being violated.
I don’t know if it’s a Black thing or just a human thing, but we are high on action. If you love me, show me. If you want me, you have to prove it. If you are a “good daughter,” you’re expected to behave a certain way. If you are a “bad son,” there’s a list of traits that confirm it.
It’s a grading system. And that grading system is rooted in threat—or the possibility of threat.
It would be beautiful to live without boundaries. To walk freely on this planet unprotected. But the truth is, that isn’t safe. As sad as it is to admit, it is simply not safe to exist in this world without your own boundaries, without your own sense of self.
Because people will bombard you. Thoughts, conditioning, religious beliefs, educational pathways—they all press against who you think you are, even who you know you are.
I sometimes criticize myself for this boundary of “watching people.” You don’t have to watch everything, I tell myself. You don’t have to be so observant. You don’t have to wait three months before trusting someone as a friend. But let’s be honest: how many times have we opened up too soon? How many times have we been vulnerable with the wrong person?
Boundaries that honor my ancestors are boundaries that protect my sense of self.
They are boundaries that help me recognize when someone, some system, or some energy is pressing on my being. How do I maintain these values? I honor myself. I stay true to myself.
I don’t just reach for things because they’re Black. And I don’t reject things just because they come from outside my ancestral lineage. Instead, I focus on how I feel. How my body reacts in the room. What my spirit senses in the moment.
That takes work. Real work. Because a lot of us think we are being true to ourselves, but really, we are being true to the selves we were taught to perform. Sitting with just yourself—unmasked, un-coached, unprotected—is something many of us avoid.
So I do the work to reconnect with me.
The second thing I do—and this one is hard—I accept that values vary from person to person. Just because I value solitude doesn’t mean the person next to me does. Just because I value self-inquiry doesn’t mean everybody shares that practice.
How much violence erupts because of difference in values? How many people have lost their lives because of a difference in values?
Wars have been fought, genocides waged, crusades launched—all because of differences in values. The weight of differing values in this world is toxic as hell.
It breeds murder, war, control, dominance. And I wonder: if we could simply accept that values differ, and leave people alone in that difference—how much more peaceful might our world be?
So I make peace with the fact that not everyone will move how I move, think how I think, or value what I value. My job is to protect, prioritize, and focus on me. Not selfishly, but lovingly.
The third thing I do: question myself.
That same intensity I’ve had for watching others, I now turn toward myself. Rumi, do you really want to do this? Rumi, do you really want to be known for this? Is this person really adding value to your life? Do you really want to pick up the phone right now?
I ask myself questions. I have to. Because part of reconnecting with who I am today is also acknowledging my ancestors, while still recognizing that my present-day self is different from their past selves.
Values change. Desires change. Not only from ancestor to descendant, but even from who I was yesterday to who I am today. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
When I sit with my questions and wait for the answers, I emerge clearer. I can set new boundaries.
Boundaries that honor my ancestors. But more importantly—boundaries that honor me.
