When Strength Had a Code That Was Understandable

Simply Flava by Lady Flava

Yesterday, my body told me to slow down, so I listened. I stayed wrapped in my electric blanket — not even turned on — just cocooned in warmth, drifting in and out of sleep. It wasn’t a bad day, just one of those necessary chill days where comfort takes priority and quiet becomes healing.

This morning, I woke up with less pain, looking out at a sky that’s gray but bright — a Seattle kind of balance that fits my mood.

As I lay there, I came across a video of a man describing what it means to be a strong man. His words felt refreshing. He said strength starts with submission — not to ego, but to God. A strong man is honorable, reliable, a provider and protector of his wife and family.

That hit home for me because I was raised in a world where boys were boys and girls were girls. Men were masculine, women were feminine — and the adults we looked up to lived that out.

I love a man who walks tall and self-assured. A man with a job, a sense of responsibility, who takes care of his business and himself. The kind of man who opens the door, walks on the outside when you stroll together, faces the restaurant door to keep an eye on what’s going on — not out of paranoia but protection. That quiet, thoughtful kind of awareness that says, “I’ve got you.”

And for women — I admire the balance of confidence and grace. The woman who knows when to be soft and when to stand firm. She doesn’t need to wear dresses to be feminine; she just exudes it. She walks in her truth, not performing for the world but living in her own peace. There’s nothing more beautiful than a well-put-together woman who carries herself with authenticity and calm power.

But these days, it’s a different world. You never really know who you’re meeting — what their story is, what they’ve healed from, or what mask they’re wearing. With social media, people can build an image that looks real but isn’t. It’s a world that feels confusing, even a little scary, because so many seem to have lost their foundation — moral, emotional, and spiritual.

And that’s my truth.

I was raised to value strength that comes with honor and humility, and I still do. I believe in men who lead with faith and integrity, and women who walk with grace and quiet confidence.

But it feels like we live in a time that makes it hard to say that out loud. The world tells you to be free but questions you when your version of freedom looks traditional, structured, and faith-based.

Still, I won’t apologize for who I am or what I value. My peace comes from living in alignment with what feels right to my soul — not from fitting into someone else’s idea of progress.

This is my truth.

And I’m standing in it.