Seeing Myself: The Women Who Taught Me How to Romanticize My Life

From Moesha to Issa, a love letter to the screen sisters who raised my imagination

When I make a post or write a blog entry, there’s usually a picture attached. Often it’s a still of a young Black woman on screen, mid-laugh, mid-heartbreak, or mid-reinvention. I do that on purpose. These women are part of how I build my life.

The girl on my bedroom TV

I was a teenager when I met Moesha. She kept a diary, narrated her own life, argued with her family, fell in and out of love, and still made time to figure out who she was. I didn’t have the language for it then, but I was watching someone treat her ordinary life like it was worth documenting.

That planted something in me. Years later, I’m building a digital diary of my own.

Whitley and the art of high standards

Whitley Gilbert was polished, particular, and unapologetic about it. She knew what she wanted, dressed like she meant it, and never shrank her standards to make anyone comfortable. Yes, she was a lot sometimes, and that’s part of why I loved her.

Whitley taught me that having standards isn’t being difficult. It’s knowing your worth before anyone else has to confirm it.

Joan and the success lifestyle

Joan Clayton showed me a different kind of dream. She had the career, the beautiful home, the polished wardrobe, and the drive to keep climbing. Her love life was a mess more often than not, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But she was never alone. Her sisterhood held her up through every heartbreak, every bad decision, and every win.

Joan reminded me that a full life doesn’t depend on the romance working out. Ambition, style, and real friendship can carry a woman a long way, and they can be the main story, not the consolation prize.

Issa and the grace of being in process

Then came Issa Dee. Awkward, unsure, and funny about it, she was figuring out her late twenties and early thirties out loud, in front of everyone. She wasn’t perfect. She was in the process of BECOMING. Watching her felt like looking into a mirror I didn’t know I needed.

Issa showed me you can be unsure at 29 and still deserve a soft ending.

Representation was limited, so I held on tighT

Let’s be honest: there weren’t many of us on screen. When I did see a young Black woman written with depth, humor, flaws, and love stories, I held on. I rewatched. I screenshotted. I quoted. I dressed like her for a week.

Limited representation made each one feel precious. It taught me to look for myself everywhere and to build the rest on my own.

Feeding my inner child, fueling my creativity

Now, when I use those images in my posts, it’s a conversation between two versions of me. The little girl who loved seeing herself gets to be seen again. The woman I am now gets to pour that feeling into something new.

I draw inspiration from the women who inspire me, and then I create from it. That’s the whole cycle: feed the inner child, then fill the page.

Why I’m building this diary

This space is a digital diary for young women, and especially young Black women who loved seeing themselves reflected and wished there was more of it.

If you’re romanticizing your life, rewatching your comfort shows, and taking notes from the women who made you feel possible, you’re in the right place.

So I’ll ask you what I keep asking myself: who’s the girl on your screen who taught you something about yourself? Tell me in the comments. 🤍