By Shamecca Brown, Columnist, Granite State News Collaborative
First off, no I’m not angry.
My directness stems from self-awareness, not anger. I possess clarity, confidence and self-awareness, not attitude.
Being unapologetic means owning my survival, voice and truth without shame or regret for my experiences. Labels like "emotional," "aggressive," or "too much" are attempts to control strength. Having been through difficult experiences leads to speaking out with wisdom and boldness. Protecting my peace, setting boundaries, and acknowledging my experiences are not things I apologize for.
And just because I’m not rich or famous doesn’t mean I owe the world an apology for surviving. Celebrities get to move wild and stay untouchable. But people like me? We get dragged for simply trying to stay afloat.
So let me tell you my truth:
Back in 2019, I was publicly humiliated and criminalized for something that came from trying to provide for my family as a struggling mother. I was charged with a felony for using my son’s Social Security and food stamp benefits. I hadn’t reported that I remarried; I didn’t know that was a problem until an investigator started knocking on doors, asking neighbors about me.
It wasn’t fraud. It wasn’t a scheme. It was survival. I thought I could make it right by being honest from the start. I showed up without a lawyer and with my truth, but the system didn’t care. They twisted the narrative and made me a headline, just another statistic instead of a human being. I never thought I would have a felony conviction. I came with my truth, but without an attorney, my story was turned inside out.
Being a single Black mother, I was reduced to a stereotype: the angry, struggling, bitter mom. People saw a caricature, not a full person. They didn’t see the late nights, the hard work or the deep love I have for my children. By making me that character, the system tried to erase my strength and silence my voice.
I was ashamed then because my children had to see me go through this, but not remorseless. I did not pity myself and I refused to let that narrow image define me. Threatened by jail time and overwhelmed by the system, I plead guilty to a felony. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did.
And I started to work to overcome it.
Even though it cost me professionally and personally, I didn’t fold. I didn’t let it define me. I learned. I rose. I kept moving, because I had children to raise, a life to live, and a purpose bigger than my pain.
I was bold then. But that version of me was hard, guarded and defensive. That was survival mode. Standing firm for my kids was tough but felt right, and that's why I won't apologize for something I believed in. I knew my worth, even when others tried to diminish it.
Living with a felony made me realize I can overcome anything. Staying stuck isn't in my nature. Taking responsibility meant facing the consequences head-on: no excuses, no running. It meant owning it, learning from it, and doing the hard work to rebuild my life with integrity, not just for me, but for my children and everyone watching my journey. I take full responsibility and own my actions, but I don’t need society reminding me of them constantly.
Unapologetic now looks like freedom.
It looks like walking into rooms like I belong, even if someone wants to remind me of my past. It looks like advocating harder for single moms, for women navigating unjust systems, for people criminalized for surviving. It looks like helping survivors rebuild, supporting people with disabilities, and showing up every day with empathy, even when I could’ve led with anger.
Unapologetic now means I speak firmly and protect my peace. I don’t dim my tone, shrink my voice or edit my truth. I know how to walk in Jordans and still lead with power. I know how to carry wisdom and still sound like I’m from Queens. I don’t move messy, I move with purpose. And if that makes someone uncomfortable, that’s their issue, not mine.
I’m not loud, I’m heard. Not bitter, I’m built. Not intimidating, you’re just unfamiliar with someone who knows their worth.
I’ve walked into rooms not made for me and created space anyway. I’ve endured what would’ve broken others, and still choose joy, purpose and service. I carry the voices of ancestors who couldn’t speak. I stand for those still learning it’s okay to take up space.
I’m not seeking validation. I’m telling my story before someone else tells it for me, without the heart, the context or the truth.
So to every person who’s been labeled “too much,” “too real,” or “too complicated” you’re not the problem. You’re powerful. You’re necessary. And you don’t owe anyone your silence.
You owe the world your truth.
This is what being unapologetic looks like, then and now.
These articles are being shared by partners in the Granite State News Collaborative. For more information, visit collaborativenh.org.