A Gladiator -- Call Me Ms. Pope

If I had never seen myself before on television, Keri Washington as Olivia Pope was my doppelgänger.

I was tuned in religiously EVERY Thursday for Scandal I was TGIT every, single week. And not just because of the mess, the drama, or the steamy Fitz moments (though… yeah, felt sis.). It was something deeper. I saw myself in her—the fixer, the protector, the woman who carried everybody else’s chaos while silently drowning in her own.😖

Recently, I started binge-watching it again. And you know what? In that moment, I realized something. I wasn’t just trying to get lost in the drama or the crazy plot twists. I was looking for something comforting. Something familiar. Something I could control. Because, truth be told, I’ve been needing that comfort lately. In this season of my life, I’m literally moving in faith. And if you know anything about faith, it’s the complete opposite of control. So, I am losing it over here, mkay?!

Everything around me is completely out of my damn hands. My next step? Out of my hands. How things will unfold for me and my daughter? Out of my fawkingggg hands bruh! I’m learning to lean into uncertainty and trust that God’s got it—even when my flesh wants to know exactly how, when, and why. It’s hard as hell, but this is my real life right now.

And in this place of trusting the unknown, I found myself back in Scandal. Because that’s where I could regain a sense of control, even if it was just for a few hours. I could watch Olivia take the reins, fix problems, make decisions, and be the one who knows what’s going to happen next—something I’ve been craving in the midst of this unpredictable ass journey.

But here’s the thing: control is a comfort zone, and comfort can become a trap. For a long time, I ran to that comfort of control; but, in this season, I’m learning that faith isn’t about knowing it all. It’s about letting go...letting go of my tight grip on everything I think I need to manage. 

Ok...sorry, back to the program...back to Scandal...Olivia. She was a gladiator in a suit. And me? I’ve been a gladiator in grief. In guilt. In grace.

I fought to be the strong one. The go-to. The “she got it together” girl. And for a long time, that role fed me...until it almost killed me.

Because here’s the truth: being a fixer will make you forget you’re also human. It’ll have you patching everybody else’s wounds while you're bleeding out in private. And it took me breaking down—in my motherhood, in my faith, in my identity—to realize that fixing wasn’t my assignment. Healing was!

Olivia had her moments. She was powerful, but she was broken...she was covered in designer and secrets. And here I was covered in guilt and church trauma. Reading affirmations off of sticky notes and always in survival mode. We both wore red lips and war wounds like badges. But baby, I had to learn how to lay my armor down at the feet of God who never asked me to save every-damn-body—just to trust Him enough to save me.

I may not rock a white coat, but I carry truth like it’s tailored.

I don’t just survive anymore—I testify.

I don’t fix people—I free myself.

And now, I parent out loud. I heal out loud. I write affirmations from places I used to only cry in. That gladiator spirit? It’s still in me. But now, it bows to grace. So this one’s for every person who knows what it’s like to be Olivia Pope in a world that keeps handing you scandals to clean up. Take the white hat off, bookie. You don’t have to wear it to walk in purpose. 💜