Building a Soft Life as the Daughter of African Immigrant Parents

That voice was always there, whispering, sometimes shouting. It didn't matter how much I achieved - I was always chasing the next thing, pushing through without pause, without vulnerability

I was raised to work hard. Not just the usual "get good grades, get a good job" kind of hard - but the relentless, never-stop kind of hard. My parents were Ghanaian immigrants who came to the UK in the 1970s, chasing the dream of greener pastures. My mum worked long night shifts as a nurse before eventually becoming a health visitor - a community nurse who looked after children. My dad was an accountant, a government worker who never went corporate but took pride in steady, honest work.

Together, they embodied sacrifice. They modeled resilience. And in their eyes, success was tied directly to discipline, education, and unshakable work ethic. For them, it wasn't optional - it was survival.

Growing Up Between Two Worlds

As the third-born in our family, I witnessed firsthand the ways my parents tried to shield us from the traps of the inner city. At one point, they made the decision to uproot us from what many considered "the ghetto" and move us to a white suburban area. It was their way of protecting us, ensuring we had access to "better" schools and "safer" opportunities.

On the surface, it worked. We had the big house, the spacious backyard, and the reputation of being "the rich ones" within the Black community. But behind closed doors, it wasn't easy.

Living in a predominantly white neighborhood, attending predominantly white schools, meant always being the outsider. The one who had to explain her hair. The one who was reminded - subtly and not so subtly - that she didn't belong. That duality of being privileged in one sense but isolated in another shaped much of who I became.

The Weight of Expectation

If there's one mantra that has lived in my head since childhood, it's this:

"Work harder, Edina. You have to be the best. As a Black girl, you don't get to be average. Push harder."

That voice was always there, whispering, sometimes shouting. It didn't matter how much I achieved - I was always chasing the next thing, pushing through without pause, without vulnerability.

For my parents, that mindset was protection. They knew what the world would demand of me, and they prepared me to over-deliver. But as I grew into adulthood, I realized that constant grind came with its own cost: exhaustion, burnout, and a deep disconnection from ease.

Choosing a Different Path

That's why my adult life looks so different from the blueprint my parents followed. While they poured decades into the traditional 9-to-5 model, I've chosen to build multiple online income streams. Freedom, flexibility, and creativity have replaced the rigid stability of a single paycheck.

But even in this new path, that old conditioning lingers. When I sit at my desk, there's still that voice: "You're not doing enough. Don't rest. Don't slow down."

It's a battle between the old and the new. Between the survival mentality I inherited and the softer life I'm trying to create for myself.

 Learning to Build a Soft Life

For me, building a soft life isn't about laziness or avoiding responsibility. It's about reclaiming ease, joy, and rest as birthrights. It's about unlearning the idea that struggle is the only path to success.

Here's what that looks like in practice:

Redefining productivity- Not every day has to be about pushing to the limit. Some days, success looks like taking a walk, journaling, or simply doing nothing.

Allowing vulnerability- Growing up, showing emotion was a weakness. Now, I let myself cry when I need to. I admit when I'm tired. I ask for help.

Prioritizing joy - I intentionally make room for small pleasures: reading a book for fun, cooking a meal I love, or laughing with friends without guilt.

Creating financial freedom - By building diverse income streams, I'm creating a cushion that allows me to step away from constant hustle.

Honoring my roots - I remind myself that living softly doesn't mean rejecting my parents' sacrifices. It means building on them - transforming survival into thriving.

A Work in Progress

I won't pretend I've figured it all out. The voice that tells me to push harder still whispers, and sometimes I listen. Sometimes I fall back into old patterns of overwork and self-criticism.

But every day, I'm practicing softness. Every day, I'm allowing myself to believe that I am worthy of ease, rest, and joy - not just endless achievement.

And maybe that's the greatest way I can honor my parents' sacrifices: by building a life where struggle isn't the only inheritance. By proving that their daughter can carry their resilience but also rewrite the story into one of balance, peace, and softness.

Because in the end, that's what the soft life is for me - not an escape from hard work, but a reclamation of wholeness.

Shop digital products from One Million Black-owned Brands to support vulnerable women in Ghana, West Africa, and across the diaspora.