In praise of quirks and women who refuse to shrink.

Learning to love myself out loud, weirdness and all.

There are certain kinds of women I’ve always been drawn to. The outliers. The non-conformists. The “weirdos.” The women who were once called witches simply for refusing to fit into society’s box. The eccentric woman in mismatched prints and a loud laugh. The one who walks into a room and makes no apology for it. The one who doesn’t try to make herself smaller, softer, more digestible.

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As I continue to grow into myself, I’ve realized something: These women are often the happiest people in the room. They don’t ask for permission to live fully. They do what makes them happy, genuinely, unbothered by external opinions. They live in their own bubble, and somehow, they thrive in it.

One of my closest friends is like that. She is boldly eccentric. She likes what she likes. She doesn’t hide it. She doesn’t shape-shift to be more likable. She just is. And being around her has been healing for me. Because I was raised to please people. I was raised to smile, to agree, to make myself palatable. Unlearning that is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do as a human being. But thank God for self-awareness.

I am now discovering that my quirks, the parts I used to hide are actually what makes me me. I’m learning to stop fitting into character containers that were never built for someone like me.

Here’s something I wish someone told me earlier: “That’s just who I am” isn’t only used to excuse bad behavior. Sometimes, it’s the bravest kind of honesty.

All my life, I’ve been drawn to people with big personalities. People you can’t ignore in a crowd because they don’t want to be ignored. They’re bold in style, opinion, volume.

I used to work with a woman named Ifeoma. She had her own unique fashion sense very her, very free. I loved it for her and quietly wished I could be that way too.

I’ve always admired women who weren’t afraid to be loud in a world that prefers us small and silent. Women who refuse to become caricatures of femininity. Women who aren’t obsessed with following fashion trends or beauty standards and have a clear idea of what their version of beautiful looks like. Women who are comfortable in their bodies, no matter what those bodies look like. Women who stand out, unapologetically. Women who refuse to let society define “normal” for them.

I love unapologetically bold women.

As a child, I loveddddd Nicki Minaj(I still do) Not just for her music, but for her colors, her wildness, her refusal to be boxed in. Her energy made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could be that free too.

Which is why this recent wave of hyper-feminine “soft girl” content has never sat well with me. I’m not here to be dainty and fragile. I’m not playing dress-up in pastel pink so I can be chosen.

Jumael Precious is not your angelic feminine woman.

I match energy. I call bullshit when I see it. I don’t perform niceness to make people comfortable. I do not owe you a smiley face. I will not smile just because I am a woman. I will not explain feminism gently just to make a man feel comfortable being around me. I will not say “my own brand of feminism is different” to earn male approval. That version of me, the people pleaser? is gone. I’m not going to keep quiet to stroke your ego. I have my own mind. My own style. My own voice and none of them will be watered down to make anyone else feel at ease.

My voice isn’t the softest. It’s expressive. Loud. Full of life. And it gets louder when I’m excited. I cry easily. I defend myself unapologetically. I’m a Yoruba girl and I will speak Yoruba because that is my identity.

I’m a lover girl romantic, expressive, soft but not for public consumption. That part of me is sacred, and I do not owe it to the world. I’m not small-bodied, and I’m no longer trying to fit into that box. I’m not pretending anymore. If your perception of me doesn’t include the word “soft” “sweet” or “submissive,” that’s okay. I do not owe that to you. The people who matter already know who I am.

I have branded myself soft and sweet regardless and there’s nothing anybody can do to change that. It took me nearly three decades to love myself out loud. To embrace my loud voice, my weird hobbies, my intense emotions, my bold opinions. To stop shrinking in spaces that were never designed for me. And honestly?

It feels so damn good.

So this is a love letter to every woman who has refused to shrink, and to the version of me that finally came home to herself.

This is also a plea to the women who are “too much” please don’t shrink. Stretch. Expand. Continue to fill the room. We need your kind❤️