There are songs that entertain you.
And then there are songs that see you.

When Drake released Nice for What, it landed like a celebration—but also like a quiet affirmation Black women rarely receive: you don’t owe anyone access to your softness.

This song isn’t about asking Black women to be nicer, quieter, or more accommodating. It’s about honoring who Black women already are—ambitious, sensual, tired, joyful, complex, and complete.

That distinction matters.

The Sacred Choice of Lauryn Hill

The heartbeat of “Nice for What” is Lauryn Hill. The song is built on her voice—specifically “Ex-Factor,” a record about loving deeply and still choosing yourself.

That sample is not incidental. Lauryn Hill represents emotional truth, self-respect, and Black womanhood that refuses to be consumed. Her voice brings memory. It brings lineage. It brings permission.

By grounding the song in her sound, “Nice for What” becomes reverent. It says: this joy has context. This celebration has history.

A Love Story Without Possession

This is not a love song that asks for sacrifice.
It doesn’t require a Black woman to be smaller to be adored.

Instead, it observes. It admires. It lets her be.

There is desire here—but not entitlement.
Affection—but not ownership.
Attention—but not control.

That matters in a world where Black women are often desired but rarely cherished without conditions.

Affirmation Over Perfection

“Nice for What” does not flatten Black women into ideals. It celebrates real lives—friends, money, pleasure, mistakes, ambition, joy. It acknowledges that Black women are not here to perform purity or perfection to earn love.

They are already worthy.

Labor, Boundaries, and the Right to Rest

Black women know work. Not just jobs—but emotional labor, survival labor, care labor. The song recognizes that reality and then asks the most radical question:

Nice for what?

Why be endlessly accommodating?
Why overextend?
Why pour from an empty cup?

That question is a boundary.
It is refusal.
It is rest as resistance.

Joy as a Political Act

The music video makes the message undeniable. Black women across generations appear in joy—laughing, dancing, existing without explanation. No trauma required. No pain on display. Just presence.

In a culture obsessed with Black women’s suffering, choosing joy becomes a political act.

Love Beyond Romance

This song expands what love looks like. Love is not just romance. Love can be witnessing. Love can be celebration. Love can be stepping back and saying, I honor you without needing anything from you.

That is the kind of love Black women deserve—romantic or otherwise.

Why This Song Still Matters

“Nice for What” endures because it does not extract. It does not exploit. It does not demand.

It feels like a thank-you.
A nod.
A moment of recognition.

And for Black women—who are so often asked to give without rest, to love without being loved back, to be strong without softness—being recognized as is is everything.

At Speak Goddess, this is the message:
You are not required to be nice to be worthy.
You are not required to shrink to be loved.
You are allowed to choose yourself—loudly, joyfully, unapologetically.

That is not selfishness.
That is sovereignty.