Soft Power: strength that whispers
I grew up watching soft power in motion before I even had a name for it.
My mother had a way of making hard things look effortless. No announcements, no grand gestures—just action. When something broke, she fixed it. When someone needed help, she was already on it. She was the center of everything, holding it all together without asking for permission or waiting for recognition.
And now, watching Anna step into motherhood, I see it all over again. The same steady presence, the same quiet force.
Soft power isn’t about who talks the loudest. It’s about who gets things done.
Soft power is the ability to shift the entire room without ever raising your voice.
The Bible is full of women who changed history without demanding attention.
Esther saved her people, not by force, but by wisdom and strategy. She didn’t fight her way into the king’s favor—she moved with grace and intention, and that changed the course of a nation.
Deborah was both a prophet and a leader, guiding warriors into battle, but her strength wasn’t just in her commands—it was in the way people trusted her.
Mary carried the greatest responsibility of bringing Jesus into the world. And she did it in complete obedience, without needing recognition or validation.
That’s soft power. The ability to influence, shift, and transform through presence.
I know this is a sharp transition, but follow me—lol.
Monet from Power moves like that. She’s not the one making the most noise, but every decision runs through her. People think they can play her, underestimate her, but she’s always five steps ahead. She doesn’t have to prove she’s in charge—she just is.
It’s the same energy that runs through Black women everywhere. The grandmothers who prayed us through. The mothers who made sure we had what we needed. The women behind the scenes in boardrooms, politics, and culture—pulling strings, setting the tone, moving the needle.
It’s never been about volume. It’s always been about impact.
This is my first personal project of the year, and I wanted it to mean something. I wanted my return to shooting to feel like home.
It’s shot in a place that feels like where I grew up—Brooklyn, New York.
It’s a tribute to the kind of power that doesn’t need validation to exist.
Because the loudest one in the room isn’t always the one in control.
The real power moves in silence.
