I have heard it countless time. All my life. From different sources. Sometimes it wasn’t said in words, but in the absence of them. Or in a look that I have come to recognise well. A look that says this is a lot. This is too much.
You are too much.
Family members who repeated their own internalised shame back to me. Church elders who wanted to put me in my place, mistook control for guidance, who wanted obedience more than authenticity. School teachers who didn’t know what to do with a child who didn’t fit into their system. Men who wanted me for a few nights, for comfort, for fantasy, wanted parts of me, but didn’t want the responsibility of holding all of me, friends who drifted away when I no longer made myself easy or fun, but asked for accountability.
I have heard it from all of them.
I have seen it in their eyes.
You are too loud. Too outspoken. You want too much. You’re taking up too much space. Your laughter is too loud, your honesty too raw. You are too feminine. Too masculine. Too persistent. too needy. Too depressed. Too fat. Too thin. Too demanding. Too sensitive. Too happy. You are asking for too much. You feel too much. Tone it down. You are too young. You ask too many questions. And you’re too rebellious. Your body is too much. Your presence is too much. You are too intimidating. Too beautiful. Too ugly. Too political. Too analytical. Too emotional. Tone it down. Too naive. Too tender. Too direct. Too harsh. Too pushy. Too weak. You risk too much. You want too much attention. You are too idealistic. Too unrealistic. Too difficult. Try too hard. You are too late. You are too old. You speak too much about this thing again. You are too dangerous. You think too much. You long too much, yearn too much. You eat too much. You love too much. You’re too wild. Too strong. Too high maintenance. Too selfish. Too successful. Too angry. You care too much. You are too powerful. You require too much.
Too much.
Too much.
Too much.
Too much.
It used to get to me. Used to make me sad. There are moments when it still does. But I learned this: the voices that tell me I am too much reflect other people’s beliefs about themselves. They reflect their fears and limitations. They are afraid of me. Of us - of all the women they call too much. They are terrified of the way we speak the truth. They need to bring us down, to feel in control.
But I cannot be controlled anymore. I cannot be anything other than my natural state: Liberated. Wild. Expansive. Bright. Big and free. I can say it now, with pride instead of shame: I am “too much”, as in, I am a lot. And I cannot be less than what I am.
I am too much: I am too unwilling to settle, too done with pretending, too comfortable being alone instead of the wrong company. Too hard to impress, too unwilling to play along, too clear about what I won’t tolerate.
Too questioning, too irreverent, too unwilling to submit, too distrustful of authority, too loud about hypocrisy, too resistant to shame, too free in my body, too unafraid of sin.
Too much into interdependence, too demanding of respect, too aware of power dynamics, too angry about injustice, too unwilling to make myself smaller for comfort.
Too critical of the system, too unwilling to hustle endlessly, too focused on meaning over money, too idealistic about a different world, too vocal about exploitation, too unwilling to play the game; too loyal for fake friends, too curious to remain the same, too aware of my worth, too late to waste time, too experienced to be naive, too honest about what I want.
Too observant to be manipulated, too sensitive to energy, too unwilling to look away, too drawn to truth over comfort, too intense in how I see through people, too unwilling to create something shallow.
And I love being all of it. I see my ‘too muchness’ as necessary now. It is my lighthouse. What they call excess is direction. It’s a catalyst that moves things. I will not hold back anymore or pretend I am less than what I am containing inside. I won’t hide behind shame and fear. I will live a shameless life.
Here’s the thing about being ‘too much’: the depth I ask for is the depth I bring.
I don’t demand anything I don’t already live. And it is simple: If I am too much for you - it means you reached the edge of what you can hold. It doesn’t mean I have reached the edge of me. There’s so much further to go honey.
When they call you too much, they mean:
You make me aware of how small I'm playing. You remind me of what I gave up. You scare me. You won't be controlled. You see through me. You want things I can't give you. You refuse to pretend. You make my silence look like cowardice. You are what I was before I learned to be less.
How many times have you made yourself smaller? Edited yourself to be accepted? When were you last told to be soft and quiet? (I bet it wasn’t too long ago) How many times have you been told, in words or with silent looks, to stop being so much?
Here’s my advice: don’t. Keep asking for more. Don’t disappear. Don’t be digestible. Burn it down if you must, stretch out into new territory, unravel and rebuild. Speak. Please speak. Let your presence be felt. We don’t need more women who are trying to be less. We need more women who are full of themselves. Now more than ever.
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inspired by Ev'Yan Whitney's 'I Am a Too Much Woman'
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