The Reflection Table: My Cinderella Story

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; he seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor.” — 1 Samuel 2:8 (NIV)

When I was in the 6th grade, I was cast as the lead in a school play called “Jive Cinderella.” In 1979, at just 12 years old, I proudly played a Black Cinderella. My mom was thrilled that I got the leading role, and I practiced for weeks to bring that story to life.

But on opening night, something happened that none of us expected. Despite my role as Cinderella, I didn’t get the Prince. Instead, one of the stepsisters walked off with him. My mom was livid. She realized they had changed the ending of the story because of me — because I was a Black girl. In their eyes, Cinderella could not marry a white boy Prince.

My mother refused to let that stand. The next day, she went to my principal, my teacher, and even the school superintendent. She fought for me to have the true Cinderella ending — not a diminished version rewritten by bias. And on the second night of the play, the story shifted. This time, I walked off the stage with the Prince by my side. My mom had made it clear: her Black daughter was worthy of a Happily Ever After.

Looking back now, I realize how prophetic that moment was. It wasn’t just about a school play. It was about refusing to let systems alter the ending simply because of who was in the role. It was about dignity, truth, and refusing to accept less when God has promised more.

And isn’t that what we’re still fighting for today? That the “Happily Ever After” in our country belongs to everyone — no matter their skin color, gender, or place in life? That the original intent of justice and love cannot be rewritten to exclude?

My stood up for my Happily Ever After

My mom’s fight taught me that Happily Ever After's are not just for fairy tales. They’re worth contending for in real life. And sometimes it takes someone who loves you enough to stand up, call out injustice, and demand that the ending reflect the Truth.

Paul reminds us that God comforts us so that we can comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). My mom’s fight was not just for me — it was a glimpse of the Kingdom. And now, her courage is an inspiration for me to contend for others, to make sure no one’s story is rewritten or silenced because of who they are.

So I ask again: Whose Happily Ever After are you contending for?

Because fighting for justice, dignity, and truth isn’t just for ourselves — it’s for the generations after us.

Reflection Questions:

1. Have you ever had your story “rewritten” because of someone else’s prejudice or bias?

2. Who in your life has fought for your dignity when others tried to take it away?

3. What Happily Ever After are you still contending for today — in your family, your community, or your nation

   
   

   Related Reflections: These reflections are part of my ongoing journey to speak truth with faith and courage, even when it comes at great cost. I share them so that no woman's voice has to be silenced and so that justice and love can walk together.
   

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