June 20, 2026

I Watched My StageClip… and I Still Want More

I watched my Emerson College StageClip today — the moment I crossed the stage, hooded in purple and gold, my name echoing through the auditorium. People have been telling me for weeks that this is huge. That earning an MFA is rare. That finishing a thesis novel is extraordinary. That walking across that stage as a Black woman, a mother, a writer, a first‑generation creative, is something to brag about.

And I hear them. I really do.

But here’s the truth, I don’t always say out loud:

I’m proud… but I’m not satisfied.

There’s a strange tension that lives in moments like this — the kind of tension only ambitious people understand. You hit a milestone that once felt impossible, and instead of sinking into the softness of celebration, your mind leaps ahead to the next mountain. The next chapter. The next version of yourself you’re already chasing.

I watched myself on that video — smiling, walking, receiving a degree I fought for — and part of me whispered, “This is it?”
Not because the moment wasn’t beautiful.
Not because the achievement wasn’t real.
But because I know I’m not done.

I know I’m capable of more.
I know I’m meant for more.
And I know this degree isn’t the finish line — it’s the doorway.

People keep telling me to slow down, to savor it, to bask in the accomplishment. And maybe I will… eventually. But right now, I’m sitting in the truth that pride and hunger can coexist. Gratitude and ambition can live in the same body. You can celebrate yourself and still crave the next evolution.

I’m learning that wanting more doesn’t make me ungrateful.
It makes me a writer.
It makes me a creator.
It makes me me.

So yes — I did it. I crossed that stage. I earned that degree. I completed ten chapters of a novel that once lived only in my imagination. I built a life for myself and my daughter that I once prayed for.

And still… I’m reaching.

Not because I’m empty, but because I’m full — full of ideas, full of stories, full of possibility. Full of the kind of fire that doesn’t go out just because one dream has been realized.

This isn’t the end.
This isn’t even the peak.
This is the beginning of the version of me I’ve been working toward for years.

And if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt the same — proud but restless, grateful but hungry — just know: there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not unappreciative. You’re not impossible to please.

You’re growing.

And growth always asks for more.