Softness as Resistance

I honestly don't care what anyone says: I completely and wholeheartedly understand Ariana Grande's transformation.

She's done it so beautifully and so intentionally. From her teenage years to even now, she's endured an immense amount of trauma. And while I know parts of her past have been silly—and sometimes extremely problematic—I still have to give her credit. She could've easily become hardened by it all. She could have turned inward and lived in that grief and anger for years.

And shit, maybe she does. I don't know Ari.

But from the outside, what I've seen instead is someone who turns outward—who offers softness, kindness, and care to other people—even if it's in the smallest way. And it's not just about the way she looks now, or the energy she puts out. It feels like she's allowed herself to transform almost every part of who she is right in front of us.

Anyways—this isn't really a blog post about Ariana Grande, as much as I do adore her.

It's about softness.

For a long time, I lived in hardness. In anger. And on top of that there's the endless grind culture we're all forced to swim through—the constant push to keep going, to keep producing, to keep hustling. When do we ever get space to experience something different?

Watching Ari shift inspired me to start moving through life more softly in a way I hadn't really allowed myself to before.

Now I can't say always. My unfiltered Sagittarius mouth does talk a lot of shit.

But I try to be the friend people come to when they need to talk something through rationally. I try to push the people I love to be the best versions of themselves while they're here.

There just isn't space for destructive behaviors or harmful patterns within myself, it's no longer an option—thanks to my frontal lobe finally getting its act together.

Some parts of this change were choices, and some parts weren't. Like when I mentioned in my blog post, Notes on Healing (in pink), how pink suddenly started showing up everywhere in my life as I slowly began healing. But the choices themselves weren't difficult.

I love stability. I love real, meaningful conversations. I want to be the best person I can be for the other humans around me.

Those are things I chose.

I grew up surrounded by anger. It was a constant in my home. And when I started noticing that same anger rising in me around the age of 22, I knew I couldn't carry it forward with me.

So I left it there.

That doesn't mean it isn't still right under the surface sometimes.

But instead of reacting with anger toward someone else, I've learned to slow down and have a real conversation. To talk through things rather than act out. That was my choice.

And turns out—it works.

Moments like this remind me that softness can actually be a form of resistance. It resists cycles of anger and emotional heaviness. It resists the easy choice of misunderstanding each other.

I can see myself mirroring the Ariana Grande we see in my next steps down this path of life and I don't think I'd want it to go any other way.

I can't help but wonder what could change in our lives if we all chose softness instead?