The art of saying what you mean in Brown families
I started teaching self-defense after taking a life-changing class in college from the legendary Nadia Telsey at the University of Oregon. One of the many lessons that has stood the test of time? “No” is a complete sentence.
Over the last 25 years, I’ve taught free self-defense classes to hundreds of women, girls, trans, and nonbinary folks. And while I’ve never had to go full action-hero on anyone, I have used the verbal skills more times than I can count—at work or on the street.
One of the most important tools we teach in self-defense is Assertive Communication. It's basically a four-step power move for using your words like a boss:
Take a breath (to channel your inner Jedi)
Name the behavior (“You keep asking me personal questions.”)
Say how it makes you feel (“It makes me feel uncomfortable.”)
Give a direction (“Stop talking to me.”)
Simple, right? Ha. Think again.
Most people—especially those raised on a steady diet of “Be nice!” and “Smile more!”—really struggle with this. Instead of saying, “Please stop talking to me,” they’ll say something like, “Could you maybe... um, if it’s not too much trouble... potentially consider not talking to me? Please?” By the time they get to the end, even they don’t know what they’re asking for.
Being polite isn’t bad! But when you’re trying to set a boundary, a polite soup of soft words can end up watering down the message. That’s why we practice the firmer version. Yes, it’s uncomfortable. No, you’re not being mean. Yes, your great-aunt might clutch her pearls. And yes, it’s still worth it.
In real life—especially with loved ones—the last step might sound less like “Give a Direction” and more like “Make a Request.” That’s real. Some people find it easy to assert a boundary. For others, even saying “I need space” feels like you’re announcing a breakup with your mom. It's hard.
For many BIPOC folks, this entire model of communication can feel… white. If you grew up in a culture where directness equals disrespect, or where emotional honesty is reserved for soap operas and Bollywood finales, this model can feel confrontational, robotic, or just not you. The idea that you might ask your parents to stop doing or saying something that doesn’t work for you may feel totally foreign!
My job as a therapist isn’t to push white models of communication on my clients. It’s about introducing BIPOC folks to the idea that they can have an internal feeling, instinct or understanding of what is true for them—and they can communicate it with others in their family.
I’ve worked with many BIPOC clients to transform assertiveness into something that feels authentic in family settings. Especially in families where cultural values around elder respect and indirect communication run deep.
Here's a version I use with clients of color navigating tricky conversations with parents:
Take a breath (always step one—don’t skip it!)
Acknowledge your parents’ intentions (e.g., “I know you care about my health and made sure that we all had healthy meals growing up. You put so much love and effort into cooking for our family, and I really appreciate that.”)
Connect to a shared value (“You’ve always taught me to take care of my health, like making sure I eat well…”)
Name the specific behavior (“...but when you comment on my body every time we talk…”)
Share how it makes you feel (“...it makes me feel judged and anxious.”)
Make a request (“Can we agree not to talk about my weight anymore?”)
How’s it work? It starts with a breath—because yelling “I have boundaries!” without breathing first usually doesn’t go well. Acknowledging your parents’ intentions honors the love and labor behind their actions. Connecting to a shared value reminds them (and you) that you’re still on the same team—you’re just proposing a different game plan. Naming the behavior and how it lands on you isn’t about blame; it’s about being clear without being cruel. And the final step—a calm, specific request—isn’t a rejection. It’s an invitation to relate in a new way, one that works better for both of you.
This isn’t about winning “Most Emotionally Articulate Child of the Year.” It’s about carving out space for your truth, even if you have to do it with cultural finesse, strategic phrasing, and a few deep breaths in the bathroom first. With a little adaptation, assertive communication for brown folks can help you engage in a conversation with your parents that lets you show up as your whole self—while also maintaining your relationships and cultural identity.
