Polite Girls Don’t Burn Bridges (But We’re Not Polite Anymore)

There’s a reason you’re tired.

Not the kind of tired that a nap fixes — the kind that lives in your bones. The kind that makes your own name feel unfamiliar when you say it out loud. The kind that has you wondering if you’re even in there anymore. Like, Who are you??

You’ve been told to calm down.
To let it go.
To always see both sides.
To be grateful.
To be kind to everyone.
To be smaller. Softer. Easier to digest.

And somewhere along the way, you started to believe that being “good” meant being quiet — even when your body was screaming.

This isn’t just social. It’s systemic.
It’s generational.
It’s everywhere.

You were gaslit by the world.

Not just by one person — though maybe there was one.
But by schools, religions, families, media, movements that weaponized “niceness.”
By the toxic rulebook of politeness and performance.
By the unspoken agreement that says your pain is only valid if it’s palatable.

So when you feel overwhelmed?
Of course you do.
When you feel numb?
Of course you do.
When you can’t figure out if you’re angry or just exhausted or maybe both and maybe always?
Of course. You. Do.

Following Sparks isn’t about healing in the “bounce back and smile” kind of way.

It’s not about fixing yourself. You were never broken.

It’s about unlearning all the bullshit that taught you to override your knowing.

It’s about giving yourself permission to rest — not because you’ve earned it, but because you’re human.
To rage — not because it’s “productive,” but because it’s truthful.
To not always be so damn understanding of people or systems that never showed you the same grace.

It’s about naming things.
Not spiritual bypassing.
Not “love and light.”
Not “let’s be civil.”

It’s about waking up to the ways you were trained to betray yourself in the name of survival.

And let’s name this too:

A lot of us — especially white women — were trained to weaponize softness.
We were taught that our tears matter most. That “politeness” is more important than justice. That we should avoid confrontation, especially when it means calling out a family member for racism and other hateful behaviors. Or setting boundaries with other women who hide their cruelty behind “just trying to help.” “Girl, I love your, but…”

We watched people say racist things and let it go.
“Grandpa’s just old.”
”Deep inside, he’s hurting. That’s why he does that.” “She didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s not worth the fight.”

We sat in shame instead of taking a stand.
We rolled our eyes at the word “woke” instead of owning that we were half-asleep for too long.
We smiled through the tension at the baby shower, at the family dinner, at the PTA meeting — while Black and Brown women were expected to swallow the violence without reacting.

And some of us knew. Some of us felt the poison in our mouths. But we didn’t spit it out. We swallowed it, called it “grace,” and passed it down.

But the truth is:
“Being kind” is not the same as being safe.
And sometimes the most loving thing you can do is burn the bridge you were told to protect.

Following Sparks is not here to uphold systems of passive-aggressive, whitewashed wellness.
It’s here to excavate.
To interrupt.
To refuse.

And that refusal isn’t always clean or comfortable.
But it’s where the fire lives.

Here’s what no one tells you:

• Feeling your feelings doesn’t make you unstable.

• Resting doesn’t mean you’ve given up.

• Saying no doesn’t make you mean.

• Wanting to scream is not a character flaw — it’s often a sign you’re finally paying attention.

• And joy? Joy is not frivolous. It’s sacred. Especially when the world wants you silenced.

I created Following Sparks because I was burnt out, buried, and blank inside.

For decades I thought something was wrong with me — when really, I was reacting appropriately to a world (and an asshat husband) that kept gaslighting me. That taught me to mistrust my instincts. That called me “too sensitive” for flinching at cruelty.

What finally helped wasn’t a big transformation.
It was a quiet refusal.

A breath.
A journal page.
A spark.

Not for them.
For me.

So if this made something stir in your chest…

If you're exhausted but not know in your soul that you aren’t broken
If you're furious but not sure why
If you’re quiet but there’s a scream in you trying to remember its way out—

Welcome.

You’re not here to fix yourself.
You’re here to find yourself.

Not the “well-behaved” version.
The real one. The spark. The ache. The you you barely remember.

This blog, this work, this path — it’s not about becoming better.
It’s about becoming free.

One unlearned rule at a time.
One spark at a time.

You ready?

If this post cracked something open, share it. Tag a friend who needs to read it. Talk about it — even if your voice shakes.

Because silence is part of the problem.
And you are part of the spark.

Want to take this further?

This is a conversation that goes deep and if you feel the pull, I highly recommend these books:

note that the book links are my amazon affiliate links and I will earn a small commision if you click and purchase.

• Layla Saad’s Me and White Supremacy

• Rachel Cargle’s The Great Unlearn: monthly, self-paced learning

• “White Women’s Tears” essay and White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo

• If you need a gentle way to stop playing nice, try Toxic Positivity Detox