Work Is Not My Religion

A close friend called me exhausted.

Her company is thriving. Revenue is strong. Demand is steady. From the outside, it’s the kind of success people pray for. But she is tired. Bone tired. She feels like she is always working. Even when she is resting, she is thinking. Even when she is present, she is calculating. She is ready to sell.

Without hesitation, I told her to quit. Sell. Step away. Come do some leads with me. Breathe.

She laughed and said, “You try to get everyone to quit their job.”

And after she said it, I paused.

She was right.

I encouraged my husband, Jason, to take a sabbatical. Not just a vacation. A real break. A reset. And if I am honest, there is a part of me that hopes he never goes back. That we reimagine everything. That we build a life that feels expansive instead of scheduled.

Why do I do that? Why is my instinct not to optimize work, but to exit it?

It took me back to 2022, when Beyoncé released the single Break My Soul.

“I just quit my job. I’m gonna find new drive.”

It became a cultural anthem for what we now call the Great Resignation. But it was more than a catchy lyric. It was a declaration. A refusal to let work consume identity. A boundary drawn in rhythm.

When I think about the conversations I’ve had with my mom, I see the generational divide clearly.

Her generation equated stability with loyalty. You get a good job. You keep it. You endure it. You retire from it.

My generation questions everything.

Why am I here?
Who does this serve?
Is this worth my time?
Is this worth my life?

Millennials are often criticized for being entitled or restless. But I don’t think it is entitlement. I think it is awareness.

We saw our parents work themselves into exhaustion. We watched corporate loyalty dissolve during layoffs. We lived through recessions, a pandemic, and the blurring of work and home into one endless Zoom square.

So we recalibrated.

Living is not what happens after work.
Traveling is not a reward for surviving work.
Dreaming is not a hobby squeezed between meetings.

Living, traveling, dreaming — that is the point.

As a TBI survivor, I cannot ignore how fragile time is. On July 1, 2019, everything changed for me. Work stopped being sacred. Health became sacred. Presence became sacred.

That shift never left.

Success that costs you your joy is expensive.
Growth that erodes your health is not growth.
Revenue without rest is not wealth.

And yet, I also understand the complexity.

For founders — especially women — our businesses are often our proof. Our independence. Our impact. Walking away can feel like betrayal. Or failure. Or fear.

But what if it is evolution?

What if selling a successful company is not quitting?
What if taking a sabbatical is not laziness?
What if refusing to let work break your soul is leadership?

I do not hate work. I built BLK + GRN because I believe in purpose. I believe in impact. I believe in building ecosystems where Black women-owned brands can thrive.

But I do not worship work.

I do not believe exhaustion is a badge of honor.
I do not believe “busy” is a personality.
I do not believe our children should remember us as productive but unavailable.

My sons are watching.

They are learning what work means by how I talk about it. By whether I am present. By whether I protect joy.

Maybe I encourage people to quit because I want them to choose.

Choose intentionally.
Choose courageously.
Choose a life that feels aligned.

Maybe I am not trying to get everyone to leave their job.

I am trying to get everyone to leave whatever is breaking their soul.