The Safe Space of Modesty: A Life Lived in Soft Colors
For years, modesty was my shield. I embraced it in every way—my wardrobe filled with soft tones: black, grey, tan, white. Everything understated and classic. I believed that this simplicity reflected my personal taste, but over time, I realized it went deeper than that. It wasn’t just style; it was a way of shrinking into the background, avoiding attention.
Even in my professional life, despite my accomplishments, I found myself playing small. As a successful Licensed Clinical Social Worker, I’ve reached a level many strive for, but I’ve often felt out of place, almost as if I had slipped in unnoticed. Despite accolades, I couldn’t shake the feeling that one day, someone would realize that I didn’t belong. It wasn’t impostor syndrome, exactly—it was something subtler, the sensation of mastering the art of invisibility.
My choices reflected that unease. My black car, my natural face, my gold jewelry worn subtly—all quiet, all understated. There was nothing in my outward expression that dared to say, Look at me.
Was I living in these soft colors because it was truly me, or because I feared being seen?
Living this way felt safe. I didn’t have to worry about being judged or seen. But I began to realize that modesty wasn’t just a preference—it had become a way of hiding from the possibility of being “too much” or not measuring up, a shield I used to protect myself from vulnerability and the fear of rejection. It was easier to stay small, unnoticed, than to risk being seen and misunderstood.
The Safe Space of Modesty: A Life Lived in Soft Colors
For years, modesty was my shield. I embraced it in every way—my wardrobe filled with soft tones: black, grey, tan, white. I believed this simplicity reflected my taste, but over time, I realized it went deeper. It wasn’t just style; it was a way of shrinking into the background, avoiding attention.
Even in my professional life, despite my accomplishments, I found myself playing small. I’ve reached a level many strive for, yet I often felt out of place, almost as if I had slipped in unnoticed. Despite accolades, I couldn’t shake the feeling that one day, someone would realize I didn’t belong. It wasn’t exactly impostor syndrome—it was subtler, like mastering the art of invisibility.
Everything in my outward expression dared not say, “Look at me.” It was as if I’d designed my own invisibility cloak. Living this way felt safe. I didn’t have to worry about being judged or seen. But I began to realize that modesty wasn’t just a preference—it had become a way of hiding from the possibility of being “too much” or not measuring up. I began to wonder: Was I living in these soft colors because it was truly me, or because I feared being seen?
The Turning Point: When Color Found Me
One sunny afternoon in Mexico, something changed. I don’t swim, but that day, floating in the resort pool, I let myself relax—a rare moment of pure freedom. As I drifted, I noticed a woman sitting at the pool’s edge, a straw hat shading her face. Everything about her was simple, like me: a black bathing suit, minimalist accessories. But one detail stood out—her lipstick.
It was red. A bold, unapologetic red. I was captivated. The lipstick transformed her understated presence into something vibrant, commanding attention without demanding it. Without that pop of color, she might have blended into the background, just as I often did. But that lipstick… it changed everything.
I saw her. And in that moment, I realized something important: I, too, could choose to be seen. I didn’t have to shout for attention or transform myself completely. I could embrace visibility in a quiet but intentional way, just like her. The red lipstick became a symbol for me—a small but significant step toward stepping into the light.
Lipstick as a Quiet Form of Boldness
For many, lipstick is just makeup—a touch of color, a finishing touch. But for me, it became a way to embrace visibility, to step forward without losing the modesty I had long held dear.
After that moment in Mexico, I realized that something as simple as lipstick—whether a bright red or a soft pink—could be my way of leaning into boldness without compromising who I am. It wasn’t about being loud or seeking attention. It was about being seen on my own terms, in a way that felt true to me.
Lipstick, for me, became a personal act of self-expression. It wasn’t about making an external statement; it was about reminding myself that I deserve to take up space. Each time I apply it, I’m not announcing myself to the world; I’m telling myself, “I am here, and I can be seen.”
There’s power in small acts of boldness. Wearing lipstick is one of mine—subtle but intentional. It has allowed me to explore visibility without forcing myself into an identity that doesn’t feel like me. I can remain soft-spoken and grounded in my quiet strength, but now with a little more presence, a little more color.
Encouraging Other Women to Embrace Their Own Quiet Boldness
For women who, like me, have spent years living modestly—whether in their style, their voice, or their choices—the thought of stepping out in any bold way can feel daunting. We’re often told that boldness has to be loud, in-your-face, or transformative. But I’ve learned that it doesn’t have to be.
Boldness can be quiet. It can be subtle. It can come in small gestures that allow you to be seen without losing who you are.
The first step toward this quiet transformation is understanding your own values. For years, I thought I valued invisibility because it felt safer. But I realized it wasn’t safety I sought—it was the fear of judgment that kept me hidden. Once I understood that, I could begin to step out in small, meaningful ways, allowing myself to be seen without losing my grounding in modesty.
For some, it might not be lipstick. It could be speaking up more in meetings, trying a new hairstyle, or wearing a brighter color than usual. It doesn’t have to be a drastic change. The important thing is that it feels authentic and true to you.
Final Thoughts: Boldness on Your Own Terms
Boldness doesn’t have to mean shouting from the rooftops. It can be quiet, intentional, and deeply personal. For me, the act of wearing lipstick—whether red or another shade—has become a powerful symbol of my own quiet boldness. It’s a reminder that I can be seen when I choose to be, without losing the parts of myself that prefer subtlety.
Boldness isn’t about changing who you are—it’s about allowing yourself the freedom to embrace all of who you are.
Lipstick may just be makeup, but for me, it has become a small but powerful way to step out of the shadows. I no longer have to hide to remain true to myself. Now, I can be seen—in my own way, on my own terms, with the quiet boldness that has always been mine.
P.S.
While I’ve embraced subtlety in many areas of my life, when it comes to lipstick, I’ve found my confidence in three specific shades of red. I love the way they each make me feel bold in a quiet way. There’s the classic bright red for when I’m feeling fearless—a nod to my growing courage. A warm red with a burnt orange tone that brings vibrant energy into my day. And a deeper, burgundy-red that exudes quiet elegance, reminding me of the strength in subtlety. These reds have become my signature, always helping me express my own version of boldness—without ever needing to say a word.
What about you? Are there small ways you’re stepping into your own quiet boldness? Whether it’s a new color, a simple accessory, or a single brave decision, may it feel like a gentle yet powerful reminder that you are here—and you can be seen.
Thank you for taking the time to read this deeply personal entry. Sharing this journey of self-discovery and quiet boldness means so much to me, and I hope it resonates with your own experiences. Your presence here is truly appreciated, and I’m grateful to share this space with you. 💛
