I am a young Gambian woman, in the public eye for my work and passion since I was 10 years old, and building a life that reflects the best of my efforts and the most successful of my pursuits. I have enjoyed a lot of success, admiration, recognition, honour and celebration in the almost 30 years of my existence on this Earth. I have also faced and had to deal with a lot of negativity, challenges, attempts at an assassination of my character, setbacks, and outright failure. I have a voice… a strong one, that’s loud enough for myself and all who want to stand in its greatness. I am amazing at what I do – super amazing – and have set the pace and the trends for many who have come after me, young and old. I am a leader, and my leadership has inspired and continues to inspire people of all ages and backgrounds, across borders. My name, my work, my achievements and my mark have been into places that I’m yet to set foot in. I did that! I’m still going hard at it. It’s not easy, but there’s really no stopping. I am excellence, and nothing short of that will be accepted. And this is just a fraction of everything that makes me whole.

A few years ago, I wouldn’t be able to write all of that without cringing in the belief that I was doing too much, and being too extra. I would probably go over it, editing the very amazing parts of my story, toning down my successes, and trying to fit into the mould of humility, as expected. I would trim down my awesomeness, and minimise the results of my efforts and actions, my impact, influence, and the legacy I am building. I would give in to the uncomfortable thought that has haunted me for ages: people will think I’m bragging and showing off. People will think I’m not humble.

It’s a thought that has followed me around for years as I got on big stages and connected in small rooms. It was carried in a cloud that constantly hovered over my head, threatening to pour showers of shame and humiliation on me if I dared to celebrate myself … too much. And so I had to shield myself with a cover of humility each time I was asked to introduce myself, talk about what I do, or share insights and experiences on the incredible work I have been able to do personally, and as part of the organisations that I belong to. I would go ahead with the trimming and pruning, only to realise that even the most ‘humble’ aspects of my story that I choose to share would usually be amazing to those who hear them. I would then proceed to kick myself in the shins, with regrets about how much more I could have shared, and what that could have meant for me and my work. I can only sit here and wonder how many doors I have refused to open for myself and the people I work with, simply because I wanted to weigh right on the scale of humility.

But I would eventually realise that this was not just a personal problem. It was almost cultural, at least for the many young Gambians – especially female- that I have interacted or worked with. I’ve lost track of the number of times people would talk about interview experiences and their least favourite question: tell us about yourself. I see it in the way people hide their awesomeness from the personal statements and cover letters they send out for a range of opportunities. It is in the way we apologise for the great things we have done, as if the brightness of our light would offend the person that would review our applications. When we do make it through, it is reflected in the way we share the news, almost as if we had all been churned out from the same apology apparatus, and almost always doling out the same overture: I am humbled to share that..; I feel humbled to announce that… I’ve caught myself trying to hold back on sharing multiple good news when they come to me back to back. Where we have every reason to celebrate and bask in the glory of all the efforts and hard work that brought us to that moment, we choose apology. And mostly just so we can be called humble. Who is your humility for? How does it serve you? Who does it really serve?

While delivering a training on effective communication skills for NGOs a few weeks ago, the conversation shifted briefly to personal branding and the links to our communication, especially in an increasingly digital world. We talked and laughed about the struggle of branding ourselves without apology, packaging our goodness to serve us and our communities, and ensuring that we also benefit from our skills, talents and experiences. A familiar conversation line came up: when we go into international spaces, we hear colleagues talk so proudly about the things they are doing, only for us to realise that we had done that ages ago, and are doing so much more. I’ve heard this one countless times, and have made the observation from the various international connections I have been a part of. It is not said to minimise the work of others… it is rather a reflection on how often we shortchange ourselves by choosing the performance of humility. We cheat ourselves of the opportunity to share our experiences and, in the process, miss out on an opportunity for extensive evaluation and possible support for improvement. Even worse, we sit on the opportunity to support others who’re hitting the paths that we have already walked, and so contribute to the perpetual reinvention of the wheel. We choose this as opposed to picking the opportunity to inspire, support, mentor, guide, learn and exchange. So again, who does your humility serve?

The issue is even more ingrained in young women, from my experience, because we are also socialised to apologise for excelling as women and girls. We grow up in societies that do not really know how to celebrate us fully, beyond the ululations at our weddings, the acknowledgement of bravery at the naming ceremonies for our children, and the praise for our sacrifices when we’re shrouded and ready for burial. So we grow up learning to mute ourselves and dim our shine, especially when it’s brighter than the light from the men and boys around us. We carry this behaviour with us, further cemented by the warnings to be cautious of the evil eye and jealous folks. People cannot harm you or take anything from you if they don’t know what you’re up to, we’re told.

Listen, I believe in the evil eye, but I also believe in my faith and divine protection that is interestingly not grounded in the structures of religion. So, I understand this caution, but must also insist that there is a thin line between being careful of harm, and being afraid of doing well. There is a difference between true humility in character and a dumbing down of the blessings that fall on you. Just like there is a difference between pride in your achievements and accomplishments, and outright arrogance.

There should be no shame in standing tall, embracing your blessings, sharing them with people, and spreading the inspiration. In our country, it is even more important to share these stories of success and provide opportunities for inspiration and mentorship. It is important that we represent what’s possible for those who are yet to believe. It is important for the children and younger ones to believe in a life that’s better than what they have been boxed to accept. It is important for the older persons who still have a chance to turn their lives around, and make this experience on Earth better.

And for ourselves – me, you, everyone – it is important to acknowledge the fruits of our efforts, and take the time to truly appreciate and celebrate those moments. Often, we’re the only ones who really know what it took to get to that point of glory. No cloak of humility should take it all away from you. No performance of meekness should steal your honour from you. Embrace greatness. Embrace success. Embrace the goodwill of the people who celebrate you. And if afraid, take time to also seek protection from whatever you believe. In the end, we’re only here for a short time. We must make it worthwhile.

So hop off the stage, drop off the cloak, cancel that performance of humility and repeat after me: I am awesome. I am brilliant. I am excellent. I have worked hard to be here. I am proud of myself, and I celebrate myself. Fully. Without apology. Without reservation.

What are you proud of?