What is that defining moment? When does the transition happen? How much choice do we have in it? What does the word even mean?!
These questions echoed in my mind as I laid in bed staring up at the ceiling. I was a mother. Old enough to rent a car on my own. Working. In school. Paying bills. But why didn’t I feel like an adult yet? Was it because I hadn’t acquired the degree I was in pursuit of? Was it the fact that I still shared the same roof as my parents? I hadn’t yet attained the “Independent Woman” status Ne-Yo described in his song.
I jokingly blame it on the ‘90s movies I had a regular diet of on the weekends. All of our classic Black movies had me believing I had to be established and at least 3-4 years into my career by the age of 25.
“Adulting” in my early to mid-twenties was about an age milestone with other indicating markers along the way. Then, that marker was measuring up to those in my inner circle. The majority had attained their college degree and were onto their second or third. They were on their own (whether intentional or circumstantial). They had careers instead of a job. They served as my standard instead of simply inspiration.
Later, I came to realize “adulting” meant fully accepting my education journey, no matter how many detours I took. It was working my tail off at all three part-time jobs that would eventually propel me into the career I’m in today. It was owning the decision to live with my parents, knowing that my son would have the privilege to be raised and loved by the ones who raised and loved me.
It wasn’t an age milestone or a major life event, like becoming a mom. It’s a mindset shift, ‘cause internalizing false messages weakens confidence. It’s standing in our “grown woman,” and owning every decision - big or small.
I for sure did not feel like an adult at 18. I had a child, was a college student, made some independent choices, but nah. By 21, I had traveled more, learnt some thangs, had grown friends and mentors, but still nah.
I remember being offered a 6-week internship at a private university in Dallas, TX the summer after graduation. I sheepishly asked my mother if I could go, and if she and my dad would care for my son in my absence while I explored this exciting career opportunity. She chuckled and shut it down. I instantly went into a whiny plea. Shut down again. It was all over in about 5 minutes. So of course, I called the hiring director and without explanation, declined the offer. Later I would learn that the university could have housed me and my son that summer. I had plenty of adventurous and trustworthy folks in my circle who would have gladly joined me in Dallas to care for my son while I worked.
At the time, I didn’t have the confidence to ask the hiring director if the university’s housing would be suitable for my family. Instead, I felt insecure about being a young Black mother in the context of professional America. I also didn’t have the confidence to truly schedule a time with my mother, offer a clear presentation of the opportunity, and present a sound proposal. She probably still would have shut it down... but the point is, I could have been on my grown woman, simultaneously owning my struggle and aspirations, and come correct.
Where did your idea of adulting derive from? Let us know in the comments.
““When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways.””