How White Supremacy Culture Stole Our Sparkle

I used to stare at my dad in awe, his eyes sparkling every time he talked about his career. I never fully understood what he was saying—I just knew that he was a genius chemist who adored his work. His passion never faded. No matter how many late nights were required of him, or how exhausted frequent travel made him, he was in his element, and he loved every minute of it. Every time I watched him come alive in his work, I knew I wanted a career that would do the same for me. I knew I wanted a career that made my eyes sparkle just like his.

I have yet to find that sparkle.

Well, let me back up a second. There are times I have caught a glimpse of that sparkle. I’ve felt it during podcast interviews when talking about my book or the few times I’ve been invited to speak about the impacts of white supremacy culture on our self-worth. I’ve felt it when I’ve managed to get into a flow of writing that feels like I’m making word honey rather than forcing words to appear on a screen. I have little moments that make me feel like, “Ahh. There it is. There’s the sparkle I was looking for.” But then, as soon as I feel it, it vanishes. And I’m never quite sure if, and when, it will return.

When the Sparkle Vanishes

The fleeting feeling of this sparkle often leaves me wondering if I imagined it to begin with. Kind of like when you experience chronic pain that disappears as soon as you make a doctor’s appointment to address it. Since the pain isn’t reproducible at your appointment, your doctor gets to gaslight you and charge you for it, and you’re left wondering if you’re crazy. Of course, the moment you crawl into bed that night, the pain reappears, bringing a strange relief laced with agony. In the same moment, your humanity and sanity is confirmed—yes, you did feel that pain—but, now you’re in pain again without the antidote you were hoping to receive at the doctor’s office.

My sparkle plays these same tricks on me—appearing when she feels like it, but disappearing when I need her the most. Her all-too-successful game of hide-and-seek leaves me wondering if I imagined her in the first place.

And, while I question her existence, I spend the majority of my time tending to things that leave my soul feeling completely drained, which is the opposite of how little Caroline longed to feel when she wanted to be “just like daddy.”

Now, I’m sure there are times my dad felt this same soul-sucking feeling during his day-to-day life of pursuing that passion of his. Of course, I wouldn’t have been aware of those moments of stress, anxiety, and worry that kept him up at night. All I saw was a superman dad who loved everything about who he was and what he did.

I would give anything to sit down to one last cup of coffee with him and ask him what his secret was to carrying himself with such high regard that he never let the pursuit of his passions waiver. I wish I could ask him how he had the courage to believe that making a living out of his deepest passions was not only possible, but nonnegotiable for him. I wish I could ask him what moments weighed on his spirit, keeping him awake at night. What moments caused him whisper to himself, just as I do to myself, “Is my sparkle still there? Do I still love this? Is this meant for me? Can I do this?”

I need his wisdom now more than ever. I need to stare at his eyes, feel the warmth of his touch, and sink in the gentleness of his hugs. I need to hear his voice reminding me of who I am when I can’t seem to remember for myself.

I think that’s why the sparkle keeps vanishing.

I Forgot Myself. My Sparkle Noticed.

A sparkle can’t hang around when the host of said sparkle (that would be me) is living in a continuous state of self-amnesia. How can a sparkle trust such a host? A sparkle needs a host who is sure of themselves no matter the circumstances—no matter if the moment feels soul-crushing, passion inducing, or something in between.

I think this was my dad’s secret power—he was always certain of who he was, what he was doing, and why. His core being was woven into everything he did, whether that was pouring into his research, taking me out for ice cream, cooking up the best red beans and rice you’ve ever tasted, or coaching me in tennis. His core being—his purpose for living—was never forgotten. He, as a person, was never an afterthought. He placed himself at the forefront of his life, ensuring that his passion for living and the beliefs that shaped him informed every step he took and every decision he made. He did not allow any of life’s circumstances to cause him to forget who he was.

This is where I have made my mistake—I’ve allowed life to drain my core being from myself. My Caroline-ness. I’ve lost myself in the sacrifices I’ve made and the roles I played. I allowed Caroline to be drained from my spirit and I haven’t fought hard enough to get her back. I’ve settled for life as a shell of myself and wondered why I feel so hollow.

The answer should be obvious, but I’m oblivious to it. The answer is staring me down, frantically waving its hands in the air, and begging me to acknowledge it, yet I keep staring off in the distance wondering why I can't find the answer. (I’m giving myself a serious side-eye here—maybe you are too.) But here’s the thing, when you’re depleted, what energy do you have to even know where to go searching for an answer to anything? When your belly is begging for food and you’ve surpassed that moment where your hunger has turned into you feeling faint and famished, mustering up the energy to cook is out of the question. At that point, you need food and you need it now.

This is the point I’ve allowed myself to come to. I’m past hungry—I’m famished. My soul and spirit have been empty for far too long, but the longer I leave them unfed, the harder it is to find the food that I need to fill them both. The sparkle is that food. But now I have to do the work to find that sparkle and create an environment that will make my sparkle feel like it’s safe to hang around. I have to prove to my sparkle that I will not abandon her again—I won’t let her be sucked down the drain. I will protect her with everything in me so she can finally settle back into her rightful place—as the compass that guides and directs my every move.

White Supremacy Culture Stole Our Sparkle

One of the reasons I wrote a book about how white supremacy culture devalues us is because I believe white supremacy culture is at the core of many of us losing that sparkle.

Yes, I just spoke about allowing my sparkle to be drained from my being, however, something had to unplug that drain to begin with. Something had to come in and suck that sparkle from within me. And, something had to convince me that my sparkle wasn’t worth fighting for.

That something is white supremacy culture.

I believe that white supremacy culture has unplugged most of our drains while convincing us that we are the ones who pulled the plug and that it’s our fault our sparkle has disappeared. We fall for this lie because it’s become the foundation of our normalized culture of constantly chasing clout, self-improvement, and external validation that we mistake for self-worth. Society deceives us into thinking that participation in this chase is the key to our sparkle returning, and our desperation to feel that sparkle again persuades us to hop on that hamster wheel and start running like our lives depend on it.

Little do we know, the hamster wheel is how we allow society to keep the drain unplugged so that any sparkle we try to return to us is immediately sucked back down that drain. We think we’re closing the drain, but we’re really keeping it open. We think we’re getting our sparkle back, but we’re really draining ourselves further and further, learning to exist on mere fumes, believing that chronic exhaustion is our deserved portion and the result of our own lack of enoughness.

Let me take a moment to pause right here: if you are a new reader, you may not understand the connection between white supremacy culture and enoughness or worthiness. The term “white supremacy” often serves as a trigger to many, especially those who identify as white, as many mistakenly believe that saying something is the result of white supremacy culture means that white people are to blame. This is not true, and stems from a misunderstanding of what white supremacy culture is and how it harms us all. If you are new to this concept, I’ve written other articles and a book that explain everything.

You may be wondering how I wrote an entire book about this but still find myself chasing that sparkle just like white supremacy conditioned me to. Trust—I wonder the same thing. It has frustrated me to no end that after spending years healing from chronically believing this lie and writing a book to help others become free from, I fell right back into its toxic ways. A few things have contributed to this, but to avoid this essay turning into book number two, I’ll continue to share bits and pieces over the course of the next few essays.

Because here’s the thing: I’m plugging that drain for good. I’m creating a space where my light doesn’t just visit—it stays. And this time, I’m doing everything differently. I’m stepping into my reinvention era—not as another self-improvement project in disguise, but as a return to myself. This is my life, on my terms, shaped by my own definition of success and fueled by what sets my soul on fire. Things are going to look different around here—and I can’t wait for you to meet her. The real me. The me who sparkles.