An ode to my Southern roots, the Black Dallas that raised me, and the generations of women who made it possible for me to live the life I once only dreamed of.
Entering a NEW era, same roots. 🤎✨
There is something about approaching 40 that has me looking at life a little differently. Not necessarily in a sad, nostalgic way, but in a way that makes you pause and really take inventory of who you are, where you come from, and everything it took to get you here.
Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about home. Not just the physical place, but the history, the people, the traditions, and the pieces of my upbringing that I carried with me long before I ever understood their significance.
And one thing keeps hitting me…
T E X A S really is HOME.
My great-great-grandmother was born here. My great-grandmother was born here. My mama was born here. The South is IN me, baby. 😂🤎 I could never deny it, even if I tried.
Our family roots stretch back through Alabama and Mississippi, but somewhere along the way, generations of my family planted their feet in Teague, Texas, and made a life here.
And when I think about that, I realize how much of my identity is connected to women I never had the opportunity to know, sacrifices I may never fully understand, and stories that were passed down long before I was even a thought.
I come from Southern women. Women who knew how to stretch a dollar, feed a house full of people, make a little something out of nothing, and keep going even when life gave them every reason not to.
So, yes, I’m a country girl at heart, and baby, I am NOT ashamed of that. 🤠
In fact, the older I get, the more I appreciate it.
The Dallas I Know and Love
I love what Dallas is becoming. I love the growth, the new restaurants, the beautiful homes, the businesses, the creativity, and the opportunities that continue to find their way into this city.
But I will ALWAYS have a special love for the Dallas that existed before it became everybody’s favorite place to move to. 😂🤎
And if you know, YOU KNOW.
I’m talking about South Dallas. Pleasant Grove. Oak Cliff. The family cookouts, Sunday dinners, church hats, aunties who know EVERYTHING before you even tell them 😂, and knowing somebody who knows somebody.
I’m talking about the neighborhoods where generations of Black families built their lives, raised their children, started businesses, celebrated milestones, and created community with whatever they had.
The Dallas where your upbringing wasn’t just about where you lived, but the people who helped raise you.
The Dallas where somebody’s grandmother was everybody’s grandmother, where you could get a plate from somebody’s house without having to ask twice, and where the community itself was part of your identity.
THAT is the Dallas I’m proud to be from.
And I think it’s important that we remember that Dallas existed long before the skyline became a backdrop for luxury apartments, rooftop restaurants, and relocation announcements.
Because Dallas isn’t just a city experiencing growth. It’s a city with a history, and so much of that history was shaped by Black families who deserve to be remembered.
I don’t think the OG Black Dallas community gets nearly enough credit for the culture, businesses, music, food, fashion, traditions, and history that helped make this city what it is today.
We were here. We built here. We created here. And we raised generations here.
I want our history to be celebrated right alongside everything new being built.
Both can exist.
We can welcome what’s next without forgetting who laid the foundation.
Sometimes You Have to Leave Home to Understand It
Living out of state for a while gave me a different perspective on where I come from.
Funny how that works, isn’t it?
You can spend years growing up somewhere, thinking it’s just your normal, only to leave and realize that the things you took for granted were actually some of the things that made you feel most at home.
I would find myself missing the most random things.
The food. The people. The Texas air. The way we talk. The familiarity of being somewhere that doesn’t require an explanation of who you are or where you come from.
There is a certain comfort in being around people who understand the little things without you having to explain them.
And no matter how far I traveled, there was always a part of me that belonged right here.
Sometimes you have to leave home to realize home never really left you.
I can go anywhere in this world, experience beautiful places, meet incredible people, and create a life outside of the familiar.
But Dallas will always be a part of who I am.
Not because I believe I have to stay in one place to honor my roots, but because I know that wherever life takes me, I carry those roots with me.
And honestly? That’s a beautiful thing. 🥹🤎
From Sharecroppers to the Soft Life
This is the part that really gets me when I sit and think about turning 40.
My people came from sharecroppers.
They worked those fields. They labored through circumstances that were never designed to make life easy for them. They built families, made something out of very little, and found ways to keep moving forward.
They didn’t have the opportunities, conveniences, or freedoms that many of us have today.
And now here I am, almost 40 years later, standing on everything they built.
A woman who can wake up in her own home, create content, build a business around her creativity, shop for things she loves, travel, experience the world, and dream about what the next chapter of her life could look like.
And I don’t take that lightly.
The soft life I live now was truly my ancestors’ dream.
Let me say that again because I need to remind myself of it sometimes.
The life I get to live today is connected to the sacrifices they made yesterday.
The ability to live comfortably. To have choices. To create. To rest. To experience beauty. To have a home and the freedom to imagine something beyond survival.
Those things were not always guaranteed to the women who came before me.
And while I know my life isn’t perfect, I can still recognize the privilege of being able to pursue a life that isn’t solely centered around making it through the next day.
That is generational progress.
That is something worth celebrating.
And that is why I never want to become so consumed with where I’m going that I forget the people who made it possible for me to get here.
Turning 40: A New Era, But Not a New Identity
I think one of the most beautiful things about getting older is that you begin to understand yourself beyond what other people expect you to be.
At 20, I was figuring things out.
At 30, I was learning some lessons the hard way.
And now, approaching 40, I find myself appreciating the woman I’ve become, even the parts of my journey that weren’t pretty, easy, or Instagram-worthy.
I have lived enough life to know that not every season is meant to look glamorous.
Some seasons are about survival. Some are about rebuilding. Some are about learning how to choose yourself. And some are about finally allowing yourself to enjoy the life you’ve worked so hard to create.
I’m entering this new decade with a deeper appreciation for my family history, my identity, and the woman I am becoming.
I don’t feel the need to distance myself from the girl I used to be.
I want to honor her.
The little Southern girl who had no idea what life would hold. The young woman who would eventually leave home, experience the world, fall in love, face disappointments, discover new parts of herself, and still find her way back to the things that matter most.
She deserves to know that we made it this far.
And she deserves to enjoy it.
I don’t want to spend this decade trying to prove that I’m still young enough, pretty enough, relevant enough, or successful enough.
Chile, I’m entering 40 with receipts, wisdom, a little more discernment, and absolutely no desire to shrink myself to make anybody comfortable. 😂✨
I’m not starting over.
I’m building on everything that came before me.
Rooted in Everything That Matters
The older I get, the more I understand that identity isn’t just about the places we’ve lived or the things we’ve accomplished.
It’s also about the people who came before us.
It’s the stories our grandmothers told. The traditions our mothers kept alive. The neighborhoods that shaped our childhoods. The food we still crave when we’re homesick. The expressions that come out of our mouths without even thinking.
It’s the way we love, the way we show up for our people, and the strength we sometimes don’t even realize we inherited.
I am a product of all of that.
And as I enter this next chapter, I want to be more intentional about documenting it.
Not just the pretty outfits, the beauty products, the trips, or the beautiful moments that make their way onto social media.
But the woman behind them.
The history. The memories. The Southern girl who still gets excited about a good plate of food and a familiar face.
The Black woman who understands that living a beautiful life doesn’t mean forgetting where she started.
I want the younger girls watching me to understand that you can evolve without abandoning your roots.
You can be worldly and Southern.
You can love luxury and still appreciate a humble beginning.
You can build a soft life while carrying the strength of women who never had the opportunity to experience one themselves.
And you can turn 40 and still have SO much life left to live.
So, no, I’m not trying to run from where I come from.
I’m leaning ALL the way into it.
Because if my ancestors could see me now, I hope they would recognize a little bit of themselves in the woman standing here today.
And I hope they would be proud.
Rooted. Texas made. Dallas raised. And just getting started. 🤎✨
Now, where my REAL Dallas girls at?! South Dallas, Pleasant Grove, Oak Cliff, Teague, and all my Texas girls who know exactly what I’m talking about. 😂👇🏾
Tell me what part of Texas raised you, because I KNOW some of y’all have stories!
With love,
Ashley Shannet 🤎
