5 minutes read
There’s a version of you that only exists in your mind.
She wakes up early but is never tired, her skincare shelf looks like an altar, and somehow her apartment always smells like vanilla and ambition. Her voice? Calm. Her boundaries? Firm. Her heart? Open. Her energy? Soft.
She’s the “soft girl.” The one who doesn’t raise her voice. Who journals in cursive, who responds instead of reacts. Who lives in that feminine flow where everything aligns, love, money, peace, and skin texture.
But then, there’s reality.
The world isn’t soft.
It honks. and shouts. Follow-up emails arrive at 9:47 p.m. It reminds you that rent is due again, and Ikeja Electricity or the national grid has its own plans to disrupt your meditation time because heat wan wound you. It doesn’t care that you bought a dress from Desiree Iyama or Banke Kuku or that your spa appointment is fully booked.
In this world, softness feels like rebellion. There’s a version of the day where you want to light a candle and manifest peace, but instead you’re manifesting patience at a customer service desk that hasn’t processed your refund in six weeks, or you blink twice and your MTN data is gone. You want to take deep breaths, but the Uber driver is arguing about the route. You want to live with intention, but your bank app says “insufficient funds.”
Soft girl energy doesn’t always survive a hard world intact. Sometimes it limps. Sometimes it goes into hiding. Sometimes it hardens a little, just to make it through the week.
Being soft is not a look. It’s not pastel aesthetics or “that girl” Pinterest boards. It’s choosing not to lose yourself in the chaos. Softness is refusing to mirror the world’s aggression. It’s saying “I’ll still be gentle,” even when everything around you dares you not to be. It’s crying but still showing up. It’s choosing peace without pretending you’re okay.
Softness, in this economy, in this generation, in this Lagos, is radical.
It’s an act of emotional defiance to stay tender when people mistake your quiet for weakness. To rest without guilt. To say “I need help” in a culture that worships survival.
We post the vibe – the nice meal at an expensive restaurant, the sunrise and sunset, the skincare shelf.
But soft girl energy isn’t always aesthetic. Sometimes it’s gritty.
It’s deleting the text you know you’ll regret. It’s apologising even when your ego’s on fire. It’s choosing peace over drama, not because you’re scared, but because you’re tired.
It’s realising that the softest thing about you is not your voice or your outfit, but your willingness to keep believing that love, real love, not performative, still exists.
The world is not going to soften for you. You’ll still have to fight — for rest, for space, for your own voice to be heard over the noise. But maybe that’s what real soft girl energy is: the ability to stay gentle after everything.
To walk through a hard world with your softness intact is the new kind of strength. So be soft, and be real. Be silk and steel. Be a prayer and a playlist. Be the calm and the storm.
Because soft girl energy isn’t about escaping the hard world. It’s about surviving it beautifully and still smelling like vanilla at the end of the day.
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