Last week, my baby girl turned 18. Like her sister, she’s always been one of the youngest in their friend groups, so her ‘finally turning 18’ was a big deal for her—in more ways than one. And while I was right there with her, mostly, it took a little wind out of my seeing my forever baby girl officially become an adult. Ish.
Just thinking about turning eighteen is that moment many of us imagine long before it comes. Imagining what this vision of “adult life” is supposed to look like for us, from the TV shows, movies and books we consumed. Well, that’s how I did it, anyway. Of course, life doesn’t really begin at 18; it began the day you were born. But mastering taking those first steps, tying our shoelaces, learning words and not fearing the dark felt more like wins for our parents to coo and brag about. Turning 13, 16 and now 18, was all ours. But there’s something so special about crossing that 18 threshold hits different. Feels like you’ve really entered the first and freshest new chapter.
Turning 18: More than a birthday
Suddenly, by most of society’s rules, you’re an “adult” — now mum and dad can’t quite easily bail you out of everything. You’re responsible for every decision you make. And every one of those choices you follow has an action that carries consequences. Good and bad alike.
But we all laugh hard that at 18, you’re still very much a kid in so many ways. Most young, and 1000% for my girls, they aren’t fully responsible for much yet — not paying bills, not raising families, not even themselves in any real sense. But it’s the world that flips a switch. That with this one birthday, suddenly everything changes. And depending on your life circumstance, not choice, it can be a weight, and that responsibility hits hard. While for others, it’s the beginning of parties and extravagant presents.
For my girls, I want it to be something else: possibility.
Yes, there’s risk and responsibilities, especially as young Black women navigating this world. I don’t ever want to downplay the realities they’ll face. But more than anything, I want them to continue to see the wide-open space of their lives as opportunity — not fear.
Friendships, shifts, and lessons
At 18, friends shift too. You make new ones, and sometimes you realize that the friends you thought would be forever may not be built to last. That’s okay. The challenge is in learning as early as you can how to recognize which friendships are life-giving and which ones were only meant for a season. I want my daughters to feel empowered to see things as they are, not how they want or hope them to be. To step back from any and all relationships that don’t uplift them, and to also pour into the ones that do.
This rings loud for most of the choices in life.
Breaking free from society’s bullshit script
When I think back, it’s the little moments that rise up first — her early years where she didn’t speak with real words until she was past 5 years old, and only her sister could decipher her babble. The only two people worried were her dad and I – but those 2 sisters, they were having a ball. Whenever I wanted a photo of my girls, how her big sis would spring into action to hold little sister’s head in place to face the camera, both grinning. Still cracks me up. These snapshots of growing up remind me that turning 18 isn’t just about what’s ahead; it’s a celebration of every step it took to get here.
Society has a script it’s used to mold each of us, but especially young women from the get-go: find a life partner, get married, buy the starter house, have children, then buy the family home you all blissfully grow older into. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting those things — but they are not the only things. They are not the checkbox, sole definition that you made it into the happiness category. At my Big Age, I can clearly see that happiness comes from living with choice. Maybe yours is different, and again, that’s OK too. My girls will define their own as well, but no one can convince me that being able to do the things you actually want to do, not the things you’re expected to do, isn’t a huge part of it.
That might mean exploring different paths, trying something new, failing at it, trying again, failing a few more times, until you land in a place you never even thought of, but it’s the right one for you. That’s not weakness. That’s living. You don’t need to be tied down by someone else’s tradition. That well-worn path that “everyone else” is taking doesn’t need to be yours, just because.
Rejecting “Well, that’s how we did it.”
A phrase. This phrase, I’ve had to hold myself back from throat-punching someone when I hear it applied to a negative. “Well, that’s how we did it” or “That’s how my family did it.” My follow-up question was always the same: But did you like it? More often than not, the answer or expression screamed no. So why keep repeating it? Why keep living a version of life that literally brings you grief… just because it’s familiar? That’s some dumb shit. I hope my girls never settle for that kind of reasoning. And whatever I can do to fight off that thinking, I will.
Her day, her way
Turning 18 belongs to my daughter, 100%
My youngest didn’t want a big, flashy party but something quiet with family. As tiny as she is, food is one of her love languages. Done, done and done. And perfume, that’s far too expensive for her age, is another. Sigh, I created that mini version of me. My bad. I’m not the type of parent who wants to live through my children. Their lives are theirs to build, not mine. My role is to support and to advise. I’ll be there when they need me, cheering from the sidelines, offering guidance where I can. But if I see the hint of danger or a pitfall ahead, they know this mum won’t stay silent. I’ll yell, scream, and fight for them to course-correct if I think they’re veering off track. And if one idiot man, boyfriend or whomever tries to play with my babies… I’ll leave this right here so not to incriminate myself. I cannot swear to it that this quote came from the late, great comedian Bernie Mac, but that’s who I heard it from, and I’m borrowing it forever, especially when it comes to my fam:
“I might laugh and joke, but I don’t play,” Bernie Mac (I think)
What I truly (selfishly) want for my daughters
It’s literally on her card: Imagine everything ahead of you!
As my daughters step into adulthood, I want more than anything for the world to meet them with openness instead of limits. Where their voices are not just heard, or dismissed, but valued. My hope is that they’ll keep pushing boundaries — not because they have to prove themselves, but because their brilliance deserves the room to shine.
As my youngest steps into this new chapter, I feel the same excitement I did with my oldest. Every phase of their lives has been worth celebrating, worth cherishing. I got the best, craziest, smartest, kindest, most beautifullest girls in this world, nay, galaxy and beyond. What I want most for them isn’t perfection. It isn’t following the crowd or living out my version of success or happiness, but their own.
A reminder for us all
What I want is simple: for them to be happy and safe. To make intentional choices that first and foremost suit them. Their lives are already perfect and complete because they have them in it. Nothing is or was missing. Nor does anything need to be added unless that’s what they want.
The funny thing about milestones is they never really stop. I remember turning 30 and realizing how much of my life, and time, had been taken up living according to someone else’s made-up checklist. Then again at 40, finding myself rewriting the script yet again. And now realizing that I’m supposed to keep rewriting my own script until it’s where I want it. I find it just part of being me and ask myself in all kinds of ways: Is this really my path? My daughter turning 18 is a reminder that those turning points belong to all of us, no matter our age.
To live fully, freely, and boldly as themselves is to be happy while turning 18, 21, 25, 40, 50, and 100 plus.
And maybe that’s the reminder for all of us. That, no matter our age, we each get to decide how much of life we’ll live on our own terms.
Are the choices you’re making truly yours, or are they borrowed from someone else’s script? If the answer doesn’t sit right, maybe it’s time to start rewriting.
