“A Place at the Table”

There’s something powerful about a table. Not just the physical kind with polished wood and neatly set plates, but the metaphorical one—where decisions are made, where voices are heard, where presence matters.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about who gets to sit at that table—and more importantly, who gets to stay.

We live in a world where we’re constantly told to earn our spot. Be quieter. Be louder. Work harder. Be more agreeable. Be less emotional. It’s exhausting. And far too often, we find ourselves sitting at tables where we’re only tolerated, not truly welcomed.

Then I came across this quote by Tene Edwards:
"Know your worth. You must find the courage to leave the table if respect is no longer being served."

That one hit me hard.

Because the truth is—sometimes we cling to spaces that don’t value us. We shrink to fit, apologize for existing, or overperform to feel like we’ve earned the right to stay. But if the meal being served is judgment, manipulation, or silence in the face of injustice, we have to ask ourselves: Why are we still sitting there?

Respect isn’t optional. It’s the baseline. And if it’s missing from the conversation, then the seat doesn’t matter. The titles don’t matter. The illusion of inclusion isn’t enough.

I’ve had moments in my life—personal, professional, and spiritual—where I realized I was sitting at tables that no longer aligned with who I am or what I deserve. And walking away wasn’t easy. But it was necessary.

Because sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is push your chair back, stand up, and find—or build—a new table. One where voices aren’t just heard but honored. One where differences are celebrated, not erased. One where the meal includes dignity, authenticity, and mutual respect.

And here’s the thing no one really tells you: walking away from a table can feel lonely at first. It can feel like failure, like abandonment, like you’ve lost something important. But you haven’t. You’ve made room—for peace, for possibility, for people who see you as whole.

Maybe you were taught that discomfort was just the price of belonging. That if you were loyal enough or patient enough, things would change. But the truth is, love and respect are not things you earn by suffering quietly. They are given freely by people who genuinely value you.

So today, I offer this reminder:
You are not obligated to stay in places that diminish your light. You do not have to earn your humanity. You are worthy of love, of safety, of being seen and valued—not because of what you produce, but because of who you are.

If the table doesn’t make room for all of you—your truth, your spirit, your flaws, your brilliance—then it’s not your table.

And if no one offers you a seat? Bring your own chair. Or better yet, build a table so long and so wide that no one is left out. Fill it with people who speak life into you, who honor your story, and who pour grace like water.

You deserve more than crumbs. You deserve a feast.

So know your worth. And don’t be afraid to leave the table when respect is no longer on the menu.

Stay grounded, stay worthy,
– Dr. Nick