Back in May of this year, I was lovingly advised by two people I care about—my grandfather and my sister’s dad—to be more intentional about enjoying life. They weren’t criticizing me. It was more of a gentle nudge: Live a little. Make space for joy.
So, I’ve been doing just that.
One of the ways I honored that advice was by going to the Beyoncé concert. I expected lights, energy, and spectacle. I didn’t expect to cry. But I did.
Not because of the glitz or the performance—but because of one moment that hit me in the chest. When she performed Protector, she brought out her daughters—Blue and Rumi—and sang directly to them. The lyrics were simple but powerful: a declaration that until they could protect themselves, she would do it for them. She would be their protector—and their projector.
“Even though I know someday you’re gonna shine on your own, I’ll be your projector… I’ll be your protector.”
In that moment, I realized: that is the role of a mother. Not just to guard you from harm, but to reflect back to you a vision of who you are and who you can become. To project love, safety, power, and possibility—until you’re strong enough to internalize that image for yourself.
And I wept, because I didn’t always have that.
The Loss That Shaped Me
My mother suffered a brain aneurysm when I was young, and though she survived physically, I lost her mentally and emotionally for over 15 years to alcoholism, depression, and emotional volatility. I was forced to enter my teens and 20s without her presence, without her protection, and without her projection.
In her absence, I was left with the immature and superficial ideals of my father—someone more concerned with molding me into an image that made sense to him than nurturing the one that made sense for me. I love my father, but I also recognize the damage a poor projector can have on a developing child. There was no mirror reflecting my beauty, my softness, my intelligence, or my strength. Only pressure to perform, conform, or be quiet—and frequent comparisons that left me feeling lacking.
That absence created a vacuum—and others rushed in to fill it with their projections.
I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t have a self-concept. So I borrowed the beliefs of others. I trusted how they saw me more than how I saw myself.
And it led to years of confusion, shrinking, and settling.
I want to pause here to say: I was one of the fortunate ones. I got my mother back. Her healing, and our reunion, has become one of the greatest gifts of my adult life—and it honestly sped up my healing process. But not all late bloomers are as fortunate. That’s why we must be intentional about how we construct our inner mirror—our projector—especially if the ones we needed growing up couldn’t provide it.
When Projections Become Prisons
On my late bloomer journey, I’ve had to unlearn a lot. I’ve been misunderstood, mislabeled, and mistaken more times than I can count.
People assumed I was of low character.
They thought I was boastful, selfish, promiscuous.
Some even said I was a bully.
At first, I was confused. I didn’t recognize the person they saw—until I realized my bloomed self resembled women they had already made up their minds about. The curvy body they’d been taught to hypersexualize. The confident Black woman they’d been conditioned to fear or dismiss. The pretty woman they assumed must be competing, performing, or manipulating.
They saw my confidence and called it arrogance.
They saw my directness and labeled it rude.
They weren’t seeing me—they were seeing their projections.
And the danger in not having your own projector—your own grounded sense of self—is that over time, you start to see yourself through their lens instead of your own.
Rebuilding from the Inside Out
To even begin step one of blooming, I had to build my projector from scratch.
In therapy, I started developing a self-concept—something I had never truly had. I began naming and reclaiming my qualities: I am insightful. I am kind. I am worthy. I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to express how I feel.
I realized I didn’t have to keep making myself smaller—less funny, less intelligent, less accomplished—just to be accepted. Every time I did that, I was stepping further away from who I really am.
And every time I shrank, I made more room for projection, disrespect, and confusion to take root.
“Some people need you to be small so they can feel big. They’ll box you in, call it concern, and act like it’s love. It’s not. That’s control.” — my therapist
That moment shifted everything. It reminded me how crucial reparenting is for late bloomers like us—especially those of us who didn’t grow up with a steady mirror reflecting our worth.
If this resonates, I explore this more in my blog: How to Reparent Yourself as a Late Bloomer.
A Word to Late Bloomers: Build Your Projector
If you’re a late bloomer, you will go through multiple evolutions—internally, externally, and energetically. And when that happens, people will project their assumptions, their jealousy, their misunderstandings onto you.
And if you haven’t built your own projector—your own image of who you are—you’ll shrink, retreat, or doubt your growth.
But you don’t have to.
Like Lauryn Hill once said in The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill:
“Every time I tried to be what someone else thought of me, so caught up, I was unable to achieve. I’ve made up my mind to define my own destiny.”
This is your invitation to define yours.
🌱 Call to Action: Protect the Person You’re Becoming
Ask yourself:
- Who projected onto me as a child—and how did it shape the way I see myself?
- What does it look like to be my own protector and projector?
- Where am I still shrinking to fit into someone else’s comfort zone?
- How can I reparent the parts of me that never had a stable mirror to reflect my power?
Take the time to journal. Reflect. Speak new words over yourself.
You don’t have to become what they called you.
You don’t have to inherit projections you never asked for.
You don’t have to delay your blooming to make others feel comfortable.
You are allowed to be full.
You are allowed to be bright.
You are allowed to be you—unapologetically.
Until next time, later bloomers 🌸
