Women have always shaped my life.

My mother, grandmother, and aunts taught me how to love, serve others, cook, and survive.

But it was my Black female teachers who expanded my understanding of the world, taught me lessons that went beyond the classroom, and shaped the very core of who I am.

They were protectors, encouragers, and cultivators of possibility.

Mrs. Grant: The First Spark

In the second grade, Mrs. Grant saw something in me that I had not yet discovered in myself.

While other teachers wielded discipline like a hammer, she nurtured me with something far more powerful: belief.

She let me write stories when my restless energy made it difficult to sit still and allowed me to read them aloud during reading periods. That alone was transformative. But the real turning point came when she encouraged me to submit a story to the district-wide writing competition.

I wrote about Lightning, a fast horse that could outrun the wind. When I won first place, Mrs. Grant beamed with pride. That win opened my mind to new possibilities.

In a world where Black boys are too often stifled before they can even speak, Mrs. Grant gave me permission to dream.

Mrs. Sessums & Mrs. Carey: Strength in the Face of Hate

In third grade, I was bused to a suburban school where parents protested our presence. The world had already made it clear that I did not belong, but their jeers, the angry faces terrified me.

Mrs. Sessums and Mrs. Carey were there standing between us and the hate. If they were scared, they never let it show. Instead, they reassured us: These people can never take away what we will give you—an education.

That single promise became a shield.

In their classrooms, I felt safe. I felt worthy. They taught me how to navigate spaces that were designed to reject me and how to stand tall when the world wanted me to shrink.

Mrs. Day: The Lesson of Dignity

By the time I reached ninth grade, I had a fair sense of who I was, but Mrs. Day refined it.

She taught us how to carry ourselves with dignity. Our shirts had to be tucked in, our speech had to be proper, and there was no room for laziness in her presence.

Some students resented her strictness, but I thrived under it.

She made us read literature that challenged us and forced us to think deeply about the world and our place in it.

She demanded that we show up in every way—physically, mentally, and intellectually.

She made me understand that how we present ourselves is often the first battle in a world quick to dismiss us.

Mrs. Peters: The World Beyond the Classroom

If Mrs. Day refined me, Mrs. Peters expanded my world.

No-nonsense and strict, she introduced me to art in a way I had never known before.

She took us to plays, musicals, concerts, and galleries.

It was in those moments, sitting in dimly lit theaters or standing before masterful paintings, that I understood the vastness of human creativity. She gave me a love for the arts and storytelling in all its forms.

It was through her that I saw the world as something bigger than my neighborhood or the confines society placed on me.

Dr. Elizabeth Clark-Lewis: The Power of Women’s Stories

Howard University was a crucible, and no professor shaped me more than Dr. Elizabeth Clark-Lewis.

She was relentless in her expectations, pushing me to craft arguments with precision and express my thoughts with clarity.

In her women’s studies classes, she made me understand the importance of preserving and telling women’s stories, particularly those of Black women whose voices history had often silenced.

Because of her, I had to confront and release all the sexist thoughts that I had learned from hanging with guys on the corner.

Dr. Miller: Writing as Truth

By the time I took Dr. Miller’s essay class, I thought I knew how to write. She proved me wrong.

She didn’t care about my clever turns of phrase or my expansive vocabulary. She cared about content, truth, and structure.

The first time she handed back my essay with a bright red C, I was stunned. The second C made me furious.

But when I finally went to her office to demand why she wasn’t seeing my genius, she told me the truth I needed to hear: You’re too focused on style. You need to focus on saying something real.

That shift changed everything. I stopped trying to impress and started trying to connect.

When I finally wrote from a place of honesty, she had me read my piece to the class. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid. I stood before my peers, reading words that weren’t just well-crafted, but meaningful.

When she later helped me submit my work for publication, I faced rejection after rejection. My confidence wavered. But Dr. Miller refused to let me dwell on failure. Your day will come, she told me. And she was right. The day I finally got that acceptance letter, I knew my life had changed forever.

The Legacy of Their Lessons

These women—Mrs. Grant, Mrs. Sessums, Mrs. Carey, Mrs. Day, Mrs. Peters, Dr. Clark-Lewis, Dr. Miller—each impacted my life. They gave me knowledge, but more than that, they gave me courage.

They taught me who I could be. And for that, I will always be grateful.

Which teachers had an impact on your life?

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