Bubbles are not meant to be everlasting. Eventually, they pop. Even as they float toward the sky, we see the bubble pop before it reaches the sun.  

That is the visual that comes to mind when I reflect on the downfall of the bubbly Black girl. Where does she exist in today’s time? Where are the Sinclair’s of the world? The loud laughs that can make a room vibrate, the highly expressive authentic reactions, and the personality that left a positive stain on anyone that encountered it.  

My bubble was poked at a very young age, and by middle school my bubble had fully popped. Its lifespan began to deplete when my peers would become uncomfortable with me having a loud voice. From there on, my bubble was poked anytime I stood out like a sore thumb when expressing myself in public. I always needed to “tone down” my energy before I received the awkward side glance or the label of the “loud Black girl.” 

On both sides of the fence, I never belonged. I didn’t connect to others just because we were the same shade of wheat. Most of the time, I became the butt of unfunny jokes that were directed at the traits of my personality that weren’t considered “a part of the cookout.” I, too, began to notice the few thumbs that stuck, and began to slowly place ice on their personality and their voices.  

As of recently, I have come across conversations of women speaking out about once having a vibrant spirit that quickly became diminished to be accepted into certain spaces. The more I read those threads, the more each story began to sound similar to my own. Each started off as very expressive, outgoing and playful. The more they experienced daily interactions with others, the more they realized they were not everyone’s cup of tea. Their personality was criticized by outsiders, which in turn made them deflect those traits that stood out from the crowd traits that were praised in others were labeled negatively. 

See, for us being expressive means we are “too loud.” Being passionate can be mistaken for aggression. Being disagreeable means having a “stank” attitude. Research from Georgetown Law Center on Poverty and Inequality has shown that Black women and girls are often perceived as more aggressive or confrontational than their peers when displaying the same behaviors. This caused Black women to speak in softer tones, and act more mature by not expressing those vibrant aspects of themselves. Each bubble popped by the hands of a spirit murderer.  

The term “spirit murder” comes from legal scholar Patricia Williams, used to explain how being socially pressured repeatedly can slowly wear down one’s sense of self, especially in people of color. This means it does not happen with just one encounter of self-criticism. It’s a constant pattern of small experiences that overtime forms a false soul that lacks its light. The natural instincts begin to feel like a major risk factor for connection. On the outside, the impact won’t be noticeable, but the internal shift can be significant. 

The bubbly Black girl who once laughed and lived life freely becomes the woman who overcalculates her next giggle. She now holds a wall up around others and barely cracks a joke. She has learned that fully being herself can be costly. Gradually, each experience shaped the understanding of which parts of her personality were welcomed and banned the rest from existing in social environments. I never understood why the saying goes “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” when words do in fact hurt. Words are powerful enough to cause mental shifts in one’s truest self.  

The world needs bubbles. A few Janine Teagues (Abbott Elementary joke) are needed in every space we walk in. Bubbles don’t have to be poked because they are harmless.  

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words burst bubbles.