Dear Tamar Braxton,
I owe you an apology. I am sorry for all of the negative things I thought and said about the version of you as edited on reality shows. I remember the exact moment I stopped being irked by you and started to pray for you. Maybe you remember this exchange. It was a filmed conversation between you and Cora Jakes Coleman. When Cora encouraged you to take care of yourself, you responded with: “what does that mean?” I never, ever, forgot that. I know that you are a churched girl now woman like me. And it was deeply relatable to me that perhaps you, like me, had been raised that good girls don’t break down. Good girls never need to rest. Maybe you struggled against good girl syndrome. Maybe you craved for a space where you could be you, and not what everybody else wanted and needed you to be.
When you said, “What does that mean? I prayed for you.
I’m rooting for you, Tamar. I’m rooting for you, and every churched girl now woman who ever once felt guilty—or was made to feel guilty—for making herself a priority. For every churched girl now woman who never felt she could have the blues. To feel bad. To have bad nerves. To go to therapy. To receive love and support without judgment after being diagnosed with anxiety, depression, or any combination of the two. For every churched girl now woman who dared to consider ending her own life—because suicide busts the Strong Black Woman code wide open. I can tell you I’ve thought about it. I can tell you that I’ve been diagnosed with depression more than once in my life. I can tell you I saw things in you that I didn’t want to acknowledge in myself.
When you said, “What does that mean? I prayed for you.
I prayed for you because maybe you hoped church could help you feel better. Maybe you thought you could sing it away. Or maybe you looked around and didn’t see anyone you could trust with the innermost parts of you. Maybe they told you to pray it away. Told you if your faith was stronger this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe all people saw was the lip-popping, ready to read you in a minute dot.com she-me-her world you created. Maybe that was all they wanted to see.
When you said, “What does that mean? I prayed for you.
I’m praying for you Tamar. Yes, I know sometimes that is the most insincere, snarky thing you can say to someone. But I mean it. Promise. I am praying for your healing. I am praying for my healing. I am praying for our collective healing. We need safe spaces where we can tend to our wounds. I pray your strength. I pray for your emotional, spiritual, and physical health. I truly hope you find out what it means to take care of yourself. May the God of peace, of mind, body and spirit peace, show off in you in miraculous, tangible, remarkable ways. May God envelope you in the peace that passes all understanding. May God through all of us extend love, light, and kinship. Rest well. Heal. Know that you are loved. Thrive.