“Softness is a Strategy”

Author: Ayana Clarke “Softness Is a Strategy: A Wellness Manifesto for the Black Body in Harlem” Section: Lifestyle / Wellness…
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Author: Ayana Clarke

“Softness Is a Strategy: A Wellness Manifesto for the Black Body in Harlem”

Section: Lifestyle / Wellness

Let me start by saying something radical: you don’t have to earn your rest.

In Harlem, we are taught to hustle from the moment we’re tall enough to ride the bus alone. Grind culture is braided into our hair like protective styles. We wear resilience like a badge — like a shield.

But somewhere along the way, we forgot that survival isn’t the end goal. Thriving is.

And thriving doesn’t always look like working 14-hour days, serving everybody but yourself, or proving your worth through exhaustion. Sometimes it looks like silence. Stillness. A bath you stay in until the water goes cold. A walk with no destination. A stretch in your living room while jazz whispers behind you.

Softness isn’t weakness. It’s strategy.

The Harlem We Inherited vs. the Harlem We’re Reclaiming

I grew up in a Harlem where self-care meant getting your hair done, getting your hustle up, and maybe getting some church in on Sunday. But it rarely meant checking in on your nervous system. It didn’t mean therapy unless something broke. It didn’t mean daily joy unless something was being celebrated.

Now, I see us reclaiming the definition.

I see sisters pulling tarot cards and blood pressure readings in the same breath. I see brothers doing breathwork and learning how to name their emotions out loud. I see grandmothers teaching herbs, not just hymns. I see young queer folks leading full-body movement classes in basements that used to house pain.

We are redefining wellness — not as trend, but as return.

You Don’t Need Permission to Start

Let me say this plainly: If you’re Black and breathing in Harlem, you’re already doing something miraculous. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay in survival mode forever.

You don’t have to wait until you crash to begin healing.

You can light a candle for no reason. You can sit down even if there are dishes in the sink. You can tell someone, “I’m not available for that energy today.” You can say no. You can say yes, just for yourself.

The world won’t fall apart because you paused. It might actually start to heal.

Harlem Rituals for a Softer Life

Wellness doesn’t have to be expensive. Or Instagrammable. Or imported.

Some of the best rituals I’ve found were born right here:

  • Peppermint oil behind the ears before bed — my aunt swore it calmed bad dreams.
  • A hot cup of tea on the stoop at dusk — no phone, just sky.
  • Gospel in the morning, Sade at night.
  • Body oil as prayer.
  • A three-minute dance party in the mirror. You need to see yourself shining.

Harlem has always been spiritual. We’re just remembering what that looks like when it’s quiet.

The Real Work Is Gentle

This isn’t about fixing yourself. You were never broken. This is about remembering. About letting yourself be — not just productive, not just useful, not just impressive.

Harlem is changing. Gentrifying. Glistening in ways that often leave us pushed to the edges. But you can reclaim space inside your own body first. You can take up room in your own breath. You can choose softness, every time the world tells you to harden.

That’s your protest.

That’s your power.

That’s your right.

So here’s your wellness tip for today:

Give yourself the rest you were taught to delay.

Let your body be a place that feels like home — even if the neighborhood doesn’t.

I hope this article reminds you:

You deserve softness. You deserve stillness. And you don’t have to prove anything to receive peace.

— Ayana Clarke

JARVUSHESTER

JARVUSHESTER

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