A Girl’s Girl… Until He Picked Me (Part 1):
The Confession & The Awakening
By Rukaiyah Williams
There’s a part of my story I used to tuck away, buried beneath layers of justifications and technicalities I clung to like armor. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. I said things like, “They were never in a relationship,” or “It’s not like anything happened between them.” I rationalized. I wrestled. I excused. But deep down, my soul knew the truth: I wasn’t walking in full integrity. And that truth sat heavy on my chest.
You see, I’ve always considered myself a “girl’s girl”—a woman who believes in sisterhood, in sacred boundaries, in respecting unseen bonds even when no one else is watching. But then came a situation that tested me, deeply. A man I entertained—let’s call him Mr. Mystery Man—once had an infatuation with one of my friends. A public one. One of those undeniable, heavy-on-the-eye-contact, he-was-almost-obsessed kind of crushes. And even though their connection was never formal or physical, I knew the line existed. And I stepped over it anyway.
Later, when he revealed that he was still entangled with his child’s mother—five months into our relationship—I justified again. “Technically,” he said, “we’re not together. I’m easing my way out of the lion’s mouth.” He painted her as the villain. The one who cheated. The one who didn’t love him back. And I used every one of those technicalities to keep justifying why I stayed.
But here’s what I’ve learned: people who walk in full integrity don’t search for loopholes to bypass accountability. Technicalities are the excuses we use to betray ourselves softly—until the consequences show up loudly.
That relationship? It almost cost me everything. It was the hardest, most soul-wrenching connection I’ve ever experienced. And not because he hurt me the most—though he did—but because I hurt me the most. I abandoned myself trying to hold onto a story that never should’ve been written.
But I’m still here. And the breaking didn’t end me. It broke me open. It lit a fire in me that said: “No more.” No more making exceptions. No more dishonoring my truth. No more calling myself a girl’s girl while secretly walking in contradiction.
This is not about shame. This is about honesty. It’s about pausing long enough to ask: Have I really been a girl’s girl to other women? Have I been one to myself? Because you cannot expect relationships that begin in avoidance, secrecy, or compromise to suddenly bloom in truth. Integrity has to be the seed, not the afterthought.
And now—I lead with it. Fully. Boldly. Unapologetically.
Soul Check-In
Before you keep reading, take a moment to ask yourself:
Have I ever justified a decision that went against what I know to be right—especially when it involved another woman’s dignity, story, or heart?
Have I ever ignored my intuition, my conscience, or my values in exchange for attention, validation, or the illusion of love?
What story am I still trying to justify with technicalities that deep down, I know doesn’t align with my highest self?
This is not about shame. This is about truth. And truth is sacred. Give yourself permission to be honest—with compassion, not condemnation.
Take a deep breath. Exhale the guilt. Inhale the grace. Let’s keep going.
What Is a Girl’s Girl, Really?
Being a girl’s girl isn’t about cliques or catchphrases. It’s not just tagging #WomensEmpowerment or posting a quote on sisterhood. It’s about the integrity behind how we show up for one another—especially when no one’s watching.
A girl’s girl honors sacred boundaries. She doesn’t weaponize silence when her friend is hurting. She doesn’t compete, undercut, or cozy up to chaos just because it’s wrapped in charisma. A girl’s girl knows that loyalty isn’t just about standing up for your friend—it’s also about not standing in the way of her peace, her growth, or her healing.
But let’s be real. Many of us weren’t taught how to be this kind of woman.
We were taught to “secure the man.” To win, even if it meant breaking unspoken codes. To believe that scarcity meant somebody had to lose—and often, that somebody was another woman.
We’ve confused proximity to male attention with power. We’ve accepted emotional scraps in silence because we didn’t want to look like the “bitter” woman or the “jealous” friend. We’ve swallowed discomfort with smiles and shaded our sisters with silence.
And we’ve called it loyalty.
But a girl’s girl? She learns better—and chooses better. Not perfectly, but intentionally. She makes the quiet decision to move from competition to compassion, from projection to protection, from silence to soul.
The good news? If you’ve ever slipped—if you’ve ever not been a girl’s girl in a moment clouded by insecurity, validation, or trauma—you’re not alone. You’re not disqualified. You’re evolving. And there’s room for your redemption.
When We Slip
Sometimes the deepest heartbreak comes not from others, but from realizing the role we played in someone else’s pain.
We slip when we lead with ego instead of empathy. We slip when we justify crossing a boundary because no one technically claimed it yet. We slip when we shrink our values to feel chosen. We slip when we ignore the knot in our stomach because attention felt too good to question.
And sometimes, we slip because no one ever showed us what real integrity looks like in relationships—with others or with ourselves.
We’ve mistaken performance for purity. We’ve confused silence for strength. We’ve been praised for being agreeable, patient, and polite—even when it cost us our peace or made us complicit in someone else’s harm.
But sis, hear me clearly: A slip is not your sentence. A misstep is not your identity. What matters is what you do after the mirror shows you who you’ve been and who you’re becoming.
Do you run? Do you defend? Do you project? Or do you pause, reflect, and repent—not just in prayer, but in practice?
Because real soul work doesn’t shame you—it shifts you.
The slip is where the soul gets loud. It’s where your conscience starts asking better questions. It’s where your healing begins—not because you were perfect, but because you were honest.
Soul Check-In
“I am not defined by my lowest moment. I am refined by what I choose next.” Breathe that in. Say it aloud if you need to. Let it break the chains of shame and open the door to accountability.
You are not your slip—you are your rise.
The Root of the S.L.I.P.: Pick-Me Programming
Let’s be honest. A lot of us didn’t just “pick up” Pick-Me behavior—we inhaled it. It was modeled. Repeated. Reinforced. Praised.
Sometimes, it came from the women we loved the most.
We saw our mothers stay silent in the face of harm, prioritizing a man’s presence over their daughter’s pain. We watched aunties shape-shift to keep men from leaving. We witnessed older cousins chase men across states, sacrificing their peace, their children, their sanity—all in the name of being chosen.
Many of us were told directly—or shown indirectly—that being a “good woman” meant tolerating mistreatment, performing emotional labor, and never demanding too much. We were taught that over-functioning was love. That abandonment was our fault. That if he stayed, we should be grateful—even if we had to lose pieces of ourselves to make that happen.
And when that’s the blueprint you grow up with, the programming is subconscious. You may begin to equate love with striving. You may confuse control with commitment. You may even believe that suffering is spiritual.
That’s what makes Pick-Me programming so dangerous: it teaches us to abandon our own needs in hopes that someone else won’t abandon us.
And here’s the part that stings—when we operate from this place, we often pass the pattern down.
A little girl watching her mama beg, perform, or endure will internalize that too. A daughter witnessing men cycle through her life may start over-performing just to feel secure. She’ll try harder to make him stay. She’ll think love is earned through sacrifice. And she’ll miss the truth: she was already worthy.
We call this the S.L.I.P.—Subconscious Loyalty to Internalized Patriarchy. It’s why you stayed when everything in you said to leave. It’s why you performed instead of protecting yourself. It’s why, even now, some part of you still believes you’re not enough unless someone else says so.
But the truth is, you were never meant to be picked like fruit off a tree.
You are the tree.
Rooted. Whole. Sacred.
Mini Soul Check-In: Rooted in Truth
Pause and ask yourself:
Where did I first learn to perform for love instead of receiving it?
What women in my life unknowingly modeled self-abandonment in the name of being “chosen”?
Have I ever mistaken sacrifice for self-worth?
What would it feel like to no longer strive—but simply be loved for who I already am?
Breathe. You are not waiting to be picked. You have the genetic coding of a mighty tree. Anchored. Whole. Already enough.
“True self-love begins where comparison ends.”
We’ve peeled back the layers—uncovering what it really means to be a girl’s girl, how we sometimes slip into self-betrayal, and the quiet ways Pick-Me programming can shape our choices, our friendships, and our sense of self. If you saw yourself in any of these reflections, know that you’re not alone. You are not broken—you are awakening. And awareness is the first step to transformation.
In Part 2, we go deeper. We’ll confront the silent codes passed down through church culture, reclaim our integrity with grace and truth, and rise into soul-aligned sisterhood rooted in self-respect. This is the part where we rebuild.
Because integrity isn’t just how we treat others—it’s how we honor ourselves when no one else is watching.