Let the Soft Life Go and Get in the Fight, Sis

To know me is to know that I have no dream job because I do not dream of labor. Traveling the world, building my community, spending time on a beach, and living in a society that doesn’t require me to work myself to the bone to keep a roof over my head are the things that I spend my time visualizing. 

On its face, the viral ‘soft life’ and ‘soft girl era’ trend presents a similar line of thinking where resting from the hustle of life and instead indulging in its luxuries is the name of the game. But there’s a major and important distinction between the two: the soft life is a call for individualism and consumption. And in this age of fascism, it worries me that Black women and other women of color have attached themselves to these narratives so easily, almost as a way of escapism from our current reality.

I get it; America is crumbling, money is tight, and we all want to be able to wish away the headlines. Self-care is essential and Black women and all women of color should never be expected to be America’s saviors, but don’t let the soft life dupe you into stepping back from a fight that requires all of us. As the poem suggests, now is the time to rest if we must, but not quit. 

The soft life relies on materialism and the individual consumption of goods to thrive, but we can’t spa day and latte our way out of a period in time where community and mutual care is necessary for our collective survival. Our politicians, government, and jobs can’t and won’t save us, and a soft life does not take away the need for us to advocate for ourselves.

The danger of the soft life aesthetic is that it presents ease as liberation, when in fact, it often depends on proximity to privilege and access to capital. Who gets to live softly? Who has the time, money, and safety to distance themselves from the current battles we’re facing? 

The soft life packages and sells self-care and freedom back to us in a way that teaches us that liberation is something you can buy, not build– and that's a lie.

It’s no coincidence that this trend has taken off at a time when so many of us are exhausted, burned out, and disillusioned. The pandemic, a looming recession, and rising authoritarianism have all left us depleted. But when our exhaustion leads us to disengage entirely, to believe the lie that a soft life is the only one worth building, we play right into the hands of the very systems we claim to resist.

Let me be clear: rest is revolutionary. But rest that leads to disengagement is not. Rest is part of the fight, not the alternative to it. When we center our healing in community, when we make space for one another to breathe, cry, laugh, and dream—that’s soft. That’s also resistance.

We need more of that kind of softness—communal softness, political softness, softness as strategy. Not just bubble baths and brunches, but policies that protect our bodies. Not just healing circles, but organized action. Not just curated aesthetics, but dismantled systems. We need softness that dares to imagine—and fight for—a world where safety and joy aren’t luxuries.

Black women and all women of color can reclaim what softness really means. Let it be the balm that allows us to keep going, not the excuse to look away. Let it be a tool, not a trap. And most importantly, let it be something we offer to one another—not just to ourselves.

So yes, sis, take the nap. Book the trip. Light the candle. But also: show up. Speak out. Protect. Build. Dream.