There’s a sacred moment in every woman’s professional journey—a moment when we realize the season has changed, even if the world around us hasn’t caught up.

That moment might come quietly.
A whisper during meditation. A deep exhale after yet another meeting that drains your soul. A sudden shift in your spirit while scrolling past someone else’s announcement and thinking, “That kind of alignment… I want that.”

Or the moment might arrive with thunder.
A health scare. A betrayed trust. An unmistakable sense that you’ve become unrecognizable to yourself. Growth will whisper, yes—but it will also roar. And when it does, it’s not calling you to be reckless. It’s calling you to be real.

Recently, I read a post that moved me deeply—written by a brilliant Black woman leader announcing a courageous career transition. After years of service in a high-impact executive role, she chose to step away—not because the work was beneath her, but because she had outgrown the space that once felt like home.

She had listened to the whisper. She had honored the roar.

And most importantly, she had the audacity to trust the mustard seed of faith.

On Knowing When It’s Time

As a PhD, a coach, and a Black woman who has sat in many rooms where my light felt “too much,” I cannot stress enough how common it is for us to ignore the signs. To override the whisper. To silence the roar for the sake of gratitude, humility, or loyalty.

But let me tell you what I’ve learned through my own transitions and through the sacred work I do with other women of color in leadership:

Gratitude and growth can coexist.
You can be thankful for a role—and still be called away from it.
You can honor your mentors—and still choose yourself.
You can respect your past—and still claim your future.

The idea that we must stay small to be loyal is a lie rooted in systems that were never built to see us thrive whole. My journey has reaffirmed this time and time again. I’ve also come to learn that when a person or a space respects the position and not the person, there will inevitably arise a disconnect.

When your values begin to misalign with the space you’re in, when your spirit starts to dim despite the accolades, when your body starts whispering the truth your mind doesn’t want to hear—that’s your signal. That’s sacred data. Don’t ignore it.

What Does It Mean to Transition with Purpose?

Purpose-led transitions aren’t just about quitting jobs or switching titles. They’re about coming home to yourself.

The woman in that post didn’t just change careers—she stepped into a role that reflected her soul’s mission: equity, integrity, faith, belonging. She said yes to a space that didn’t just talk about inclusion—it lived it. She returned home to herself. That’s not just a career move. That’s a calling fulfilled.

And let’s be real:
That level of alignment?
That kind of clarity?
It doesn’t come without cost. It requires prayer, discernment, community, and courage. It means being willing to walk away before the next door is fully open. It means trusting the unseen and moving anyway. It means not knowing what the future holds, but trusting He who holds the future.

Inspired by that woman, I’ve spent the last several months taking a vested interest in self. I’ve yielded to the whispers and roars within and uttered a still and sure, yes! Following months of my own workplace struggles, I resigned from work I loved deeply. I found myself being called to the same place I call my clients, the deep and the discomfort. It is in these moments that the real growth happens. We don’t become better by staying the same.

I said no to a job offer I wanted badly. And it is just like God to give us another chance to get a thing right. That employer came back again, two days later to make sure it was a sure no–and it wasn’t. They too, listened to the whisper and the roar. They offered again, agreed to negotiated terms, and said yes. Encouraged by love, empowered by community, and grounded in faith, I said yes too. In the months ahead, I will return to higher education and I could not be more excited. But in saying yes to new, we are sometimes required to say goodbye to old, and that can be unsettling. I am reminded that this is not my first rodeo, though. And as I’ve done in each transition since, I will allow my faith to be bigger than my fear. . . I challenge you to the same.

To My Sisters Standing at the Edge. . .

If you’re reading this and you’re feeling that quiet tug—or maybe even the full-blown roar—I want you to hear me clearly:

• You are not too much.
• You are not hard to love, lead, or uplift.
• You are not wrong for wanting more.
• You are capable of leveraging your brilliance to build your dreams.
• You can have it all.
• God created you to be outstanding. It’s a must that you standout.

You were never meant to dim so others could stay comfortable. Your dreams, your boundaries, your joy—they are not inconveniences. They are indicators of where you are being called to next.

There is a space where your brilliance won’t be translated.
Where your ideas won’t be minimized.
Where your presence isn’t just tolerated—it’s treasured.

But before you can walk into that space, you must release the old stories:
That you must earn your worth.
That you must shrink to fit.
That you owe someone your staying.

You owe no one your silence. But you do owe God your shine.

The Transition is Sacred

Transitioning—especially for Black women in leadership—is not just a logistical process. It’s emotional, spiritual, and deeply personal. It’s the in-between where faith is tested and resilience is renewed.

If you’re in that in-between right now, know this:
You are not behind. You are not lost. You are becoming.

Let it be slow. Let it be intentional. Let it be holy.

You are planting seeds now that you may not see bloom for years—but bloom they will. And when they do, you’ll look back on this moment not with regret, but with reverence.

Because you dared to choose yourself.

Because you honored your wholeness.

Because you followed the whisper—and the roar.

With love, courage, and clarity,
Dr. Marquisha Frost