On Admiration: Michelle Obama

I admire her. Not in passing, not in whispers behind the curtain of my mind, but fully, expansively. Michelle Obama — as a woman, a Black woman, a mother, a wife, a leader — she carries what so few can: grace under pressure, strength wrapped in humility, and intelligence that does not seek permission.

I see her and I see possibilities. The quiet ferocity of her love for her family. The courage to stand in her truth even when the world demanded conformity. The way she moves through spaces not built for her, and still leaves them better than she found them.

She teaches, without a single lesson plan, that leadership is not about being louder than others — it is about lifting, inspiring, and protecting those around you. That motherhood is not a limit; it is a force. That being a Black woman in the world means both fighting and shining, and that the fight does not diminish your light.

I admire her because she is whole and aware of it. She is enough, and in her enoughness, she inspires others to find their own. She reminds me that I can be many things at once — strong, tender, ambitious, loving — and that none of it diminishes who I am.

In her example, I find a map. Not to replicate, not to copy, but to understand that being fully yourself is revolutionary. That being both soft and unbreakable, nurturing and commanding, is not contradiction but completeness.

I aspire to the same courage in my own way, in my own life, for my daughters, for my community, for myself.