Today’s Question For Your Uncommon Evolution: If you had been raised in a different culture, what parts of your life might look different today?
I have been thinking a lot lately about how hard it can be to know if a life truly belongs to us. That’s because, to be truly candid, I’ve been in the middle of my own giant life transition for the past several months.
For me, it hasn’t been hard because someone else is making my choices. In fact, for most millennial women of color, that’s not the case. We choose our careers. We choose our partners. We decide where to live, what to study, and whether to have children or move across the country. On paper, those choices are ours.
But I’ve started questioning whether choosing something and choosing it freely are really the same.
As I get older, I realize that many of our decisions are shaped long before we realize it. We inherit ideas about what success looks like, what types of work are respectable, and what makes someone a good daughter, partner, or woman. We absorb these messages so gradually that by the time we’re adults, they no longer feel like expectations; they feel like reality.
For many millennial women of color, those expectations often come from multiple sources. They arise from our families, cultures, communities, gender roles, religion, workplaces, and from generations of people who sacrificed so we could have opportunities they didn’t. There’s something beautiful about that inheritance. It gives many of us resilience, ambition, loyalty, and a great ability to care for others.
It can also make it very hard to know where everyone else’s expectations end and our own desires begin.
I don’t think most women wake up one day and decide to build a life around pleasing others. It usually happens more quietly. We become dependable because someone needed us to be. We become achievers because success brought safety and approval. We become the woman who can handle everything because we learned that being needed is safer than disappointing anyone.
The tricky part is that these qualities often receive praise. The world rewards women who are capable, responsible, accommodating, and productive. We get promotions. We become the friend everyone calls. We are often told how strong we are.
Sometimes, we become so good at carrying those identities that we never pause to ask if they still fit.
One of the most common conversations I have with women isn’t about making a dramatic life change. It isn’t about quitting a job, ending a relationship, or moving to another country. It’s something quieter.
It’s the realization that they’ve spent years becoming the person they thought they were supposed to be, and now they don’t know what they truly want.
That realization can be scary because it can feel ungrateful. How can you question a life you’ve worked so hard to build? How can you admit that something feels off when, by all external measures, your life is good?
But I don’t believe gratitude and curiosity are opposites.
You can be grateful for your family while questioning some of the beliefs you grew up with.
You can appreciate your culture while deciding that not every expectation applies to you.
You can love where you came from without thinking you have to stay exactly the same person you were taught to be.
I think that’s where much of our growth begins.
Not in rebellion.
Not in rejecting everything that shaped us.
But in being curious.
Curious about which beliefs still feel true.
Curious about the dreams we’ve quietly set aside because they didn’t seem practical.
Curious about the version of ourselves that has been waiting beneath years of obligation, achievement, and responsibility.
Maybe that is what growing up really is. Not reaching a certain age or milestone, but learning to recognize the voice that says this is what everyone expects of me and the quieter voice that asks if this is truly the life I want to live.
I don’t believe there’s a single moment when all those answers become clear.
I think they unfold slowly.
One honest conversation.
One difficult boundary.
One decision that surprises you.
One small act of trusting yourself after years of seeking permission elsewhere.
And maybe that is enough.
Because perhaps the goal was never to become someone entirely different.
Perhaps the goal was simply to become more fully yourself.
I love working with millennial women of color as they reconnect with themselves and build lives that feel authentic, intentional, and fully their own. I also genuinely love connecting with people and hearing their stories. If you want to share what this essay brought up for you, or if you’re a millennial woman of color who would like to work with me, I’d love to hear from you. Feel free to reach out through my Contact Page or email me directly at anjali@uncommonevolution.com.
