Parenting our daughters is basically an Olympic event.
Not because of them—but because of what we’re up against.
The world is loud, opinionated, and relentless about what our girls should be. From the time they are little girls straight through their teen years, their hair, their bodies, their tone of voice, their dreams—every part of them seems up for critique. And a lot of that critique comes dressed up as “advice.”
Everyone from social media to educators and church Aunties has something to say.
Too loud.
Too quiet.
Too grown.
Too sensitive.
Too much.
It’s one thing to read the research — because yes, in some ways, Black girls in Ontario are making gains. Collectively, stats show our outcomes are in a better place than a decade ago. That’s largely because our girls are showing up, showing out, and stepping into post-secondary in increasing numbers. But despite their documented hard work, Black girls are still underrepresented in STEM. Still streamed into lower-track classes in high school. Still suspended more than any other girls—and more than non-Black teenage boys. Still labelled “disrespectful” or “angry” for doing what others are praised for, and still constantly being told, in big and small ways, to sit down and be quiet.
From the time they are little girls straight through their teen years, their hair, their bodies, their tone of voice, their dreams—every part of them seems up for critique. And a lot of that critique comes dressed up as “advice.”
But the research and the outcomes hit different when you’re watching it happen to a 14-year-old girl in real time.
That constant commentary chips away at young people. In my work leading leadership workshops for racialized girls, I’ve seen just how early that chipping begins.
For many in my workshops, I become a safe place where girls share their experiences. One student tried to laugh it off as she relayed how she was advised to “watch her tone” just three weeks into a new school—simply because she asked why she was singled out to put away her phone when no one else was. It reached the point where even an ally in the class stepped in, telling the teacher they were being overly harsh, especially since this ally had never been told to put away his own phone. (He got a big laugh when he confessed he was actually on a call at that very moment).
Another girl grew exhausted as classmates constantly asked if her braids were “real” and if she washed her hair. Seriously—why is this type of othering still even a thing?
Yet another girl shared that her Grade 10 teacher questioned whether she really thought she could go to university and suggested she “wasn’t that good at math.” This student earned a solid 74%, and baby girl pointed out that the teacher never spoke to her white friend and classmate, who sat with a 68. I assured her that if I made it through university and landed on the Dean’s List with my shaky 67 in Grade 10 math, she’d absolutely be fine.
Affirmations Can be a Source of Power when Black Girls Need Them the Most
Like I said, when it comes to critique of our Black girls, the world is loud. We have to be louder.
Louder with our love. Louder with our belief in them. Louder with our affirmations—until they can firmly shout out the best things about themselves to themselves, even on the hard days.
It may not feel like it, but in a single moment, your words—spoken in the middle of morning chaos, in the car after school, or whispered at bedtime—matter. These words of wisdom can become the guiding light your beautiful girl carries with her long after you’ve said them. The source of great power she needs to face a hard time, the mean girls—or to crush the presentation.
So I’m humbly offering 10 things to say to your daughter every day.
Think of these as soft armour. A kind of daily wraparound love. Something she can carry into every classroom, group chat, and situation where the world might try to shrink her. These aren’t just nice words—they are counter-narratives to the lies the world keeps trying to tell our girls.
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“Never dull your shine for somebody else.”
This is attributed to Tyra Banks, and she’s the perfect spokesperson to push against the myth that confidence means arrogance. There is a whole system invested in dimming Black girls’ light—from the way they’re policed in schools to the way they’re portrayed in media. This affirmation is a permission slip to be bright, brilliant, and unapologetic. Say it when she’s second-guessing herself. Say it when she’s made to feel “too much.” Let her know: her shine is not up for negotiation.
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“Your voice deserves to be heard.”
Black girls are often silenced or punished for speaking up. Their tone is policed. Their passion is misread as anger. This affirmation is your daily reminder that she has the right to speak, question, dream out loud, and advocate for herself. Being assertive is not the same as being aggressive. It’s a message she may not always get in school, but she should always get at home.
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“You don’t have to be perfect to be amazing.”
Perfection is a lie—and a trap. Our girls are often taught they must excel without error just to be seen as “good enough.” They get early pressure to do the right thing and be “twice as good to get half as far.” But perfection isn’t an attainable goal. Wholeness is. Progress is. Let her know mistakes are part of growth. She’s not amazing because she’s flawless—she’s amazing because she’s learning, evolving, and showing up every day.
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“Take up space.”
From classroom seating charts to friend groups to leadership opportunities, our girls are subtly and overtly told they should be smaller, quieter, less noticeable. Black girls are expected to shrink—physically, emotionally, and intellectually. This pushes them to stay in a comfort zone rather than risk being seen. This affirmation pushes back. Tell her to walk into every room like she belongs—because she does. Her ideas, her laughter, her questions, her opinions—they all deserve room.
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“If you wouldn’t say it to your best friend, don’t say it to yourself.”
Our girls are often held to unfair standards, and over time during the normal course of teenage life, those voices become internal. This affirmation teaches self-kindness. Ask her: Would you talk to a close friend like that? If not, then it doesn’t belong in her head either. Help her build a voice inside that protects her, not one that echoes the world’s criticisms.
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“Your feelings are real, and they matter.”
From a young age, Black girls are often denied emotional complexity. You don’t need to look further than the careers of Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Angel Reese to see Black women labelled as “too emotional,” “ghetto,” or “overreacting.” Their sadness is brushed off, their anger pathologized. This affirmation is your way of saying, I see you. You are worth love, and your feelings are beautiful things. Whether it’s a big loss or something small, she deserves to feel it. Emotions are information, not inconveniences.
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“Trying is winning. Failing is learning.”
When you’re constantly told you have to outperform to be seen, failure can feel like the end of the road. This affirmation reframes that. It turns trying into triumph. It helps her see failure not as a dead end but as data. As growth. As proof that she’s doing hard, brave things. Great things. And that possibly the hardest thing—learning every step of the way.
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“I love watching you become who you are.”
This is about presence, not performance. Tell her you’re not just proud of her grades or achievements—but of her. Of the way she thinks. Of how she shows kindness. Of her evolving self and willingness to have new experiences. She has no one else’s version of “good” to live up to but hers. This affirmation reminds her that her becoming is beautiful—and that you’re paying attention.
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“You’ve got this. And if you don’t, I’ve got you.”
Our girls are told they need to grow up to be “strong women” and are praised for being “resilient”—but resilience should never mean going it alone. This affirmation says: I believe in your strength—I know you will do amazing things, but you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. You’re not a superhero. You’re a human being. And I will always be your soft landing place.
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“I believe you.”
Whether she tells you about something that happened at school, a dream that feels too big, or a moment that hurt—believe her. Believe Black girls so they learn what it is to be believed as Black women. Don’t make baby girl prove it. Don’t play devil’s advocate. Just believe her. This affirmation is the most beautiful gift you can offer. It builds trust. It creates safety. And it lets her know that her truth matters.
Want more positive affirmations?
For those days when she needs words of encouragement she can tuck into her backpack, click below to download our Affirmation Colouring Pages — that even my teenage daughter secretly (and not so secretly) loves. It’s perfect for quiet moments, after-school resets, or anytime you and your dear daughter need a little reminder that she’s powerful, protected, and deeply loved.
And since we need a little love too—because being the safe place, the cheerleader, the soft landing, and always having the right words for a pep talk can be a lot—feel free to check out our post for when you need a reset: Mother Daughter Love: Quotes to Refuel Your Spirit This collection of inspirational quotes is full of gentle reminders that you’re doing an incredible job, even on the days it feels like you’re not.
If there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that when it comes to praising and affirming our girls – we can’t wait for the “right” time. Don’t wait until her birthday, or until she’s struggling. Say these powerful words today. Say them again tomorrow. Let her hear, over and over, that even on her worst days, her dreams are still worth pursuing—and she is still becoming exactly who she’s meant to be.
The best version of herself.
And you? You’re already doing more than enough.
