The Rose that grew from concrete contemplates her freedom…should she allow past restrictions and trials to shape her story, or will she move to greener pastures where her light can be celebrated and not dimmed? Will she let her hard environment break her gentle nature, or will she end the cycle of severed dreams by breaking free?Â
For the longest, I held a lot of shame about my background, where I came from. I was ashamed of the stems rooted in my inner city upbringing. My petals were not like the others…I was bright with passion, but had thorns from having to defend myself. I wasn’t tended to and nurtured the same as most roses. I was a Rose that grew from concrete. And I was made to believe that something was inherently wrong with me for being that way. But it only made my petals brighter, and my stems sturdier. It made me soft, but discerning. And now I stand in my truth more than ever before.Â