“Divorced” is never an identifier or label that anyone wants. But why is the word “divorce” more like a curse word than something that describes an event that you experienced? An unwanted circumstance or situation that you had to overcome? I am a 37-year-old, divorced, single mother and this is so far removed from what I envisioned for myself at this time in my life. Although my divorce has been finalized for a couple of years now, every time I fill out any documentation that asks for my marital status, I literally inwardly cringe, roll my eyes, and wonder to myself, “Why do you need to know whether I’m single, married, or divorced? Why is it your business?” Then I proceed to check to see if the answer is required, you know, indicated with the little red asterisk, and if not, I happily skip the question. And I then find myself with an attitude. I know I am NOT the only one.

I feel like I can speak for all divorcees when I say that I did not get married with the thought that I would ever get divorced. I got married with the belief and knowing in my heart that it would be a forever thing. For me, it was not a societal trope, song lyric, or little girl fantasy but it would indeed be my reality. A byproduct of a successful, healthy, thriving marriage of 33 years—I knew that to be my future. So, when the time came for me to first admit to myself that my experience would not parallel my parents’ love story, I was devastated. I then had to accept that my daughter and I would now be statistics. I would be part of the failing 50% and she would now be a product of a broken home. While I intellectually knew then what my heart also knows now—that our experiences do not define us, nor tell the full story of who we are—when you go through such a significant life shift, all you can think about are the consequences and the fallout. From sheer heartbreak to unworthiness.

I constantly remind myself that my divorce, regardless of the circumstances, was something that I had to overcome. It was a life challenge, a life transition. It doesn’t define who I am, my worth as a woman or my ability to love or be loved, and it doesn’t define my aptitude as a mother. However, the world and society can have us feeling as though being a divorcee is a complete personal failure, and that as a woman, especially a Black woman, if you couldn’t keep your family together then something must be internally wrong with you. It’s as if our pain, hurt, trauma, and struggle become reduced to minutiae in comparison to our inability to maintain our family unit. These are the lies that I am still trying to work through and overcome because honestly, I don’t know what hurts more, the divorce itself, the struggle and trauma I experienced before I came to the realization that divorce was imminent, or the blatant pity and judgment afterward. You know what I’m talking about—you’re at a function and someone asks “So, are you married?” and I immediately shrink a little inside before I reply, “No, I’m divorced.” It’s always followed by a pitying, “Oh. Okay.” And shortly thereafter, I want to disappear. Why do we live in a society where the married are considered greater than those who are divorced, or, God forbid, have never been married? To what standard is this being measured?

All I know for sure is that divorce is painful and isolating. It’s a journey I had to travel alone until I got to the other side. No matter how sure I was that this was the right thing to do for myself and my child, the finality of it brought an avalanche of emotions that I did not anticipate, nor was I prepared for. While I had supportive family and friends, none of them had gone through a divorce so they did not understand my daily emotional struggles. And if I’m being honest, neither did I. How can someone give you what you need when you don’t know what that is? How can you tell someone to be there, when you don’t know the ways in which you need them to be? I can say now that with faith and healing I know that my story has a purpose—a greater purpose than maybe I will even understand in this lifetime—but what I am certain of is that I am stronger, wiser, and better for it.

More importantly, I want my daughter to know and understand that your relationship history, good or bad, should not ever be considered personal failures, nor do they define who you are, or your value as a woman. I want her to understand the beauty and value of loving someone completely and to never use my experience as an excuse to keep from experiencing love in all its magnificence and glory as God intended.

I can now say and know it to be true: although my heart was broken, that doesn’t mean that I am. Your heartaches don’t signify your value as a woman in need of love, respect, compassion, and warm hugs. Divorce is not my end.