Serena Williams has always been more than an athlete. She has been a force. The girl with beads in her hair who stepped onto tennis courts never built for her. The woman who carried power, grace, and fire in a body the world did not quite know how to handle. Serena was not just winning matches. She was showing us all a new way to exist…brave, proud, authentic.
For years, she gave women and young girls, permission. Permission to be strong. Permission to be different. Permission to succeed without squeezing yourself into someone else’s definition of beauty. She told us, in her own way: you don’t have to shrink to be worthy.
So when Serena announced that she has been taking Ozempic, and even more, that she is now the face of a major campaign promoting it, the news hit hard. Not because she does not have the right to do what feels best for her body. She absolutely does. But because of what that decision communicates when it becomes a global advertisement.
The public response was loud and mixed. Some people said, “This makes Ozempic feel like just another lifestyle product,” and that worried them. Others pointed out the close ties between Serena’s husband and the company behind the campaign, raising eyebrows about whether this was more business than personal. And a lot of us felt let down. We see Serena as the woman who never bowed to narrow standards of beauty. For us, this looked like a step backward.
And then there is the impact on young girls. What does it say to a 14-year-old who has Serena plastered on her bedroom wall that even her hero, strong, resilient, world-shaking Serena, still felt she had to be smaller?
Let me pause here and share something personal. My mom was a dietitian, and to this day I still hear her voice in my head. “Monifa, eat healthy. Practice moderation. Did you exercise today?” These memories continue to shape how I see wellness, not as a trend or a shortcut, but as a lifelong rhythm of care. And even though it is not always easy, those words still anchor me.
But here is my truth: even with that upbringing, it is not always easy. I live in the same world you do, where body image, pressure, and self-doubt show up uninvited. Believing that health is about wholeness and not thinness does not mean I never struggle to stay grounded in that belief. And maybe that is the most honest thing to admit, that even with the best intentions, it takes daily courage to choose compassion over criticism for my own choices about my body.
That is why Serena’s words struck me. She said, “I did everything right. I ate healthy. I trained like an Olympian. I reached the pinnacle of sport. And I still could not lose the weight.”
To me, that is not a failure. That is just biology. That is the truth about bodies, even the most extraordinary ones. They have a natural set point. They fight to stay in balance. And Serena’s body, the same body that won 23 Grand Slams and carried her through more history than most of us can imagine, was already doing what it was designed to do.
The painful part is how that truth got turned into a marketing message. Instead of honoring what it revealed, that worth does not come from a number on a scale, it became another story of lack. Another pitch that says: no matter how brilliant, disciplined, or world-changing you are, you still need to be smaller.
And that is the message girls everywhere are internalizing.
In Dakar, in Detroit, in Delhi, young women are already carrying enormous pressure. In some places, they are told to be curvy enough to prove their womanhood. In others, they are told to be thin enough to prove their discipline. Everywhere, their bodies are measured, judged, and picked apart. And now they see even Serena being “fixed.”
That is why this conversation matters. Because Serena’s influence is massive. Because her greatness lived in her strength, her strategy, and her will … never in her measurements.. It lived in her courage. In her fierce determination. In the audacity to dominate a sport that tried to box her out. She changed history in the body she already had.
Serena’s choice is her own, and I honor that. But how we speak about it, how we let it shape the culture around us, that belongs to us. We can choose to tell a different story, one that lifts up young girls instead of weighing them down. A story that reminds them their worth is not measured against impossible standards. If they grow up knowing their heroes were already enough, then maybe they will believe they are too.
—
Monifa Pendelton
Founder, The Third
Editor’s Note
By Amina Diouf, Editor of Edit
Some essays come from the head. Others from the heart. But this one comes from the soul.
In this deeply personal reflection, our founder, Monifa Pendelton, shares the story behind The Third, not just how it was built, but one of the reasons for why she built it. Inspired by the enduring truth of Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem “We Wear the Mask”, she invites us into the emotional labor many women carry silently: the pressure to perform, to please, to endure.
It is rare for founders to strip back the polish and speak so openly about what drives them. And yet, that’s what makes this piece so powerful. It doesn’t ask for pity. It asks for honesty.
At Edit, we publish stories that are honest, human, and necessary. This one is all three.
—Amina
I first read We Wear the Mask as an undergraduate student at Howard University. It was one of those rare moments when a poem didn’t just inspire me, it embedded itself in my spirit. Paul Laurence Dunbar’s words, written in 1896, have never left me. The poem is about the emotional cost of hiding your struggles behind a brave face, especially in a world that may not be ready, or willing, to hear your truth. It speaks especially to the experience of Black Americans during Dunbar’s time, but it’s a message that still resonates for anyone who feels they have to hide their pain to survive or fit in.
Over the years, this poem became sort of my mirror for when I was unsure of my own authenticity, when I was performing but quietly questioning whether I could bring my full self into the room.
So, when the time came to create a space for women, a space rooted in wholeness, truth, and dignity, it was this poem that guided me to my “why.” What if women could have a space where they could connect with their own authenticity. And that, over time, the proverbial masks would fall off.
Because the truth is, we’re still wearing the mask.
And The Third was created so that we don’t have to anymore.
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
We pretend to be fine, smiling and playing along,
even when it’s a lie.
We cover up our pain and hide our true feelings—
because that’s the cost of surviving in a world full of deception.
Even when our hearts are breaking, we still smile.
We speak carefully, always saying the “right” things.
Why should the world know the full truth—
why should they see every tear or hear every sigh?
No, let them see only what we show them.
We keep up the act. We wear the mask.
We may look joyful on the outside,
but inside, God, we are screaming.
Our souls are in pain.
We sing and pretend, but the world beneath us is ugly,
and the road is long.
Still, we let the world believe everything is okay—
because we keep wearing the mask.
We understand what it means to show up smiling while carrying unseen burdens. We know the exhaustion of being “on,” of translating your truth for the comfort of others, of dimming your light in rooms not built for your brilliance.
The Third was built to be a space where the masks can finally come off. A place where women who have spent years performing strength, hiding vulnerability, and pushing through exhaustion can begin to discover the true version of themselves. Here, there’s no need to pretend, no need to edit yourself, no need to explain your existence. It’s a space where you can show up as your full, complex, powerful self and know that it’s not only allowed, it’s celebrated.
The road to creating The Third has not been easy. But then again, what in life that is truly meaningful ever is? Every challenge, every setback, every moment of doubt has been part of the process of building something that matters. And it is this truth that I continue to return to. The vision for The Third was never about ease; it was about impact. It was about creating a space that feels honest, necessary, and deeply soulful. And every time the path feels heavy, I remind myself: this work is worth it. Because women deserve spaces where they can be whole, and I won’t stop until that is the norm, not the exception.
Here, no one is asking you to perform. You don’t have to hide your ambition, your softness, your questions, your contradictions. At The Third, we make space for your whole self: your joy, your pain, your voice, your silence.
Because the world doesn’t need more women wearing masks.
It needs more women being free.
So, this is our promise: At The Third, you are seen. You are heard. You are safe. You are real. And that is where your power begins.
With Love,
Monifa
By Amina Diouf – Editor of Edit, The Journal of The Third
Editor’s Note
At The Third, we believe in sharing stories that reflect the strength, complexity, and brilliance of women everywhere. Tunde Oyeneyin’s journey from struggle to self-defined success embodies the spirit of transformation we honor in our community. Whether through movement, reflection, or sisterhood, The Third exists to remind every woman: your power has always been yours
The first time you take a Tunde Oyeneyin class on Peloton, it’s not just a workout, it’s a powerful awakening. Her voice carries rhythm, her presence holds power, and her message burns with purpose—both a rallying cry and a steadying force. But Tunde’s glow wasn’t born from ease. Her story is one of struggle, reinvention, and choosing herself over and over again—until the world couldn’t help but follow her lead.
Born to Nigerian immigrant parents in Texas, Tunde grew up wrestling with her body image and self-worth. She has spoken candidly about years of feeling invisible and out of place, constantly battling internalized shame and societal pressure to shrink both physically and emotionally. She tried and failed and tried again. She lost over 70 pounds only to gain it back. She smiled in public and cried in silence. She dreamed big but didn’t always have the tools or the space to believe those dreams belonged to her.
But the turning point came not in a single moment, but in a series of brave, gut-wrenching decisions to bet on herself. She left a successful career as a makeup artist to pursue fitness…something that had once intimidated her. She embraced cycling and movement not as punishment, but as a form of power. And she found her voice, on and off the bike.
In her powerful book, Speak: Find Your Voice, Trust Your Gut, and Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be, Tunde charts her rise from self-doubt to global influence. With raw honesty, she shares her journey of grief, purpose, activism, and joy. She reminds us that transformation is never linear. That healing isn’t about erasing your past, but using it to build your future. That you don’t need permission to take up space…you need to decide.
At The Third, we see that same fire in our members every day.
The Third was created for women who are ready, ready to reclaim their stories, their ambition, and their peace. Women who’ve been underestimated, overlooked, or overwhelmed, but who still dare to rise. Our FIT membership is more than just access to world-class fitness. It’s a return to self. It’s where sweat meets soul.
When you step into our Peloton studio and clip in for a Tunde class, you’re not just exercising. You’re participating in a movement of women who are done playing small. You’re moving through pain, shame, grief, and doubt. And you’re emerging stronger.
You’re reminded that you can cry and still keep going. That you can be fierce and feminine. That your body is not a battleground…it’s a vessel for power, joy, and freedom.
Tunde often says, “I didn’t get here by accident. I got here by intention.” At The Third, we echo that truth. Everything we’ve built is by design. From the healing softness of our spa to the strength found in our group classes, to the daily inspiration of our community. We exist to walk with you from pain to power. From hesitation to wholeness. From surviving to becoming.
Because like Tunde, we believe in women—wildly, unapologetically, and without limits.
So clip in. Show up. Speak up.
Your transformation doesn’t start tomorrow.
It starts today.
And The Third is where you begin.
You can find Tunde’s inspiring book Speak on the shelves of our library.
By Amina Diouf
Editor’s Note
In a world where women are so often expected to pour endlessly into others, the idea of pouring into oneself can feel radical, sometimes even wrong. But we believe it is not only necessary, it is urgent. Across the continent, we are witnessing a quiet uprising: women choosing themselves, not out of selfishness, but out of wisdom.
This piece is an invitation.
To pause.
To question inherited expectations.
To consider that your needs, dreams, and desires are not in competition with your culture, they may, in fact, be the most powerful way to serve it.
At Edit, we write for the woman who is learning to say yes to herself whether for the first time or the fiftieth. May this article meet you where you are and gently remind you: YOU ARE ALLOWED TO GROW.
Mariam stood in her kitchen, the scent of a simmering stew filling the air, her phone buzzing beside her. It was a reminder for the online coaching session she had booked two weeks ago…her first bold step toward finally writing the book that’s been whispering to her for years. But as she looked at the pot and then at the unread message from her cousin asking for help with the children, she hesitated.
Saying yes to herself felt unnatural. Heavy with guilt.
Across the African continent, many women grow up watching their mothers, aunties, and grandmothers put their own needs last. Whether it’s education, health, rest, or ambition someone else’s dream or crisis always seems to come first. The culture of caregiving runs deep, wrapped in love, responsibility, and cultural expectation. But somewhere in that well-meaning tradition, many of us are taught that sacrifice is the only proof of womanhood. That to be a “good woman,” you must disappear into the needs of others.
But what if we’ve misunderstood what strength really means?
What if saying yes to your own growth isn’t a betrayal of your duties, but a powerful act of vision and service?
In many African cultures, womanhood is often tied to how much we give. A woman is celebrated for her endurance, her silence in the face of hardship, her ability to hold the family together behind the scenes. Her love is proven through sacrifice, and her value measured in how well she serves everyone but herself.
But what happens when she wants something for herself?
A degree. A business. A creative project. A solo trip. A divorce. A rest.
Too often, she’s met with judgment. Or worse, silence.
“She’s changed.”
“She’s forgetting her culture.”
“She thinks she’s better.”
“She’s selfish.”
We hear these whispers in churches, mosques, marketplaces, WhatsApp groups, and family gatherings. The unspoken rule is clear: a woman should not desire too loudly.
So we wait. We postpone the book, the class, the plan, the healing. We tell ourselves we’ll return to it after the children are grown, after the house is built, after our husband is okay.
But “after” often becomes never.
The biggest lie many women are told is that endurance equals strength. That suffering without complaint makes you noble.
But what if real strength is something else entirely?
What if true strength lies in the courage to grow?
A woman who says yes to herself is not weak. She is awake. She is choosing to live fully, not in fragments.
She is choosing to trust that her life matters, not just as a support system for others but as its own, radiant story.
There’s a quiet shift happening across the continent. Women are enrolling in courses, attending coaching programs, launching passion projects, building businesses, leaving relationships that no longer serve them. They are reclaiming their right to grow and in doing so, they are reshaping their communities.
Because when a woman grows, everyone benefits.
A woman who goes to therapy raises emotionally healthier children.
A woman who invests in her skills uplifts her family’s future.
A woman who sets boundaries teaches others how to treat her.
A woman who finds joy makes room for everyone else to breathe.
Self-development is not selfish. It is strategic. It is a ripple effect.
You don’t become less of a woman when you choose yourself, you become more of who you were meant to be.
Saying yes to yourself is not just about big decisions. It’s also about everyday moments of bravery.
It’s saying no to an invitation when your body needs rest.
It’s carving out time for learning instead of overextending.
It’s choosing to keep your money for your dream instead of rescuing someone yet again.
It’s declaring, “I am worthy of investing in myself.”
These moments don’t make you cold or distant. They make you conscious.
And a conscious woman is powerful. She doesn’t run on guilt. She runs on clarity.
What do we want our daughters, nieces, and younger sisters to learn from us?
That womanhood means burnout? That love equals self-denial?
Or that it’s possible to be committed to family and committed to self?
That you can nurture others without neglecting your own soul?
The girls are watching. So are the boys. And the future is being shaped by what we model, not just what we say.
When we show that boundaries are healthy, that joy is sacred, that self-respect is non-negotiable; we raise a generation that will honor those values too.
Too many of us were raised to believe that love looks like loss.
Loss of identity. Loss of dreams. Loss of rest.
But that’s not love. That’s a slow erasure.
Real love includes you in the equation.
It is expansive, not depleting.
It makes room for your needs, your healing, your joy.
And saying yes to yourself doesn’t mean abandoning others. It simply means including yourself in the circle of your own care.
Yes to that new dream.
Yes to stepping back.
Yes to stepping forward.
Yes to becoming someone more alive than you’ve ever been.
The world does not need more exhausted women.
It needs more women who are well, whole, and awake.
Say yes to yourself. Not tomorrow. Not one day. Now.
Amina Diouf
Editor of Edit – The Journal of The Third
Amina curates personal narratives that reveal the often-hidden strength, softness, and complexity of women’s lives. Through her work at Edit, she invites us all to read a little deeper into ourselves and each other.
By Monifa Pendelton
At The Third, we talk a lot about creating space…space to breathe, space to grow, space to be. But every space needs a foundation. Something steady beneath our feet. Something we can come back to when the world feels too loud or too uncertain. For us, that foundation is our Community Statement.
This isn’t just a collection of nice words. It’s a declaration of who we are, what we believe in, and how we choose to move through the world together.
It was important for me to write this because I’ve seen, time and time again, how easy it is for women to be misrepresented, misunderstood, or overlooked altogether. And yet, when women gather with intention, something powerful happens. We remember. We reflect. We rise. That’s what this Statement is meant to do. It reminds us that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.
It’s also a guide, a compass we can follow when things get hard or when we forget our “why.” It speaks to the kind of environment we’re building: one rooted in authenticity, care, and mutual respect. A place where we’re not only allowed to be ourselves, but encouraged to become our fullest, most liberated selves.
In a world that often demands our silence or performance, this Statement is our truth. It’s our promise to each other.
Read it slowly. Take it in. Let it sit with you. And know that this is your community too.
This is who we are.
This is what we believe.
And this is the community we are building—together.
Welcome to The Third.
With warmth and gratitude,
Monifa
By Anima Diouf, Editor of EDIT
We hold it together. We make things happen. We nurture, organise, lead, and love. And somewhere in the rhythm of giving, many women begin to drift away from themselves.
Not intentionally, but quietly. Gradually.
Because there’s always one more task, one more message, one more person who needs us.
That’s why third spaces matter. Not just as a luxury, but as a lifeline. They give us time and space to come back to ourselves. An opportunity to remember who we are outside of what we do.
What Is a Third Space?
The concept of the “third space” comes from sociologist Ray Oldenburg, who described it as a social environment outside of home and work: places like cafés, bookstores, or parks where people gather, connect, and unwind.
But for many women, those traditional spaces aren’t quite enough. They might offer coffee or conversation, but they don’t always offer intention.
They don’t always invite women to fully exhale.
To drop the performance,
Release the pressure,
And simply be.
That’s where The Third comes in.
The Third: A Space Built for You
The Third is a reimagined third space, created specifically for women.
It’s not about doing more or becoming someone new.
It’s about coming home to yourself.
A space to soften the edges.
To breathe without rushing.
To be seen without needing to explain.
A Space to Reflect
The pace of everyday life rarely leaves room for stillness. But at The Third, stillness is sacred.
It’s a place where you can listen to your thoughts without interruption.
Where clarity can rise to the surface, not because you’re forcing it, but because you’ve finally made space for it.
Maybe you’ve been wrestling with a decision.
Maybe you’ve been moving so fast you haven’t checked in with yourself in weeks.
The Third offers a quiet moment to pause, to realign, and to remember what matters.
A Space to Connect
It’s possible to be surrounded by people and still feel alone.
The Third creates opportunities for meaningful connection.
Conversations that go beyond surface-level.
Moments that feel nourishing instead of draining.
It’s not about networking.
It’s not about hustling.
It’s about real connection.
Shared truth.
Open-hearted presence.
Whether it’s a thoughtful event, a shared meal, or a spontaneous conversation in the library, the relationships built at The Third are rooted in understanding and intention.
A Space to Just BE
There is no pressure to perform here.
No expectations to impress.
At The Third, you don’t need to be productive to belong.
You don’t need to earn your rest or justify your presence.
You can come exactly as you are:
Tired. Curious. Joyful. Quiet. Uncertain.
And you’ll be met with warmth, not judgment.
In a world that constantly demands output, this kind of space is more than refreshing.
It is radical.
A Monday Morning Reminder
One Monday morning, just before 8AM, our founder arrived early to get a head start on the week.
As she passed by the library, she noticed one of our members already there.
She was resting.
Not on her phone. Not working. Just… pausing.
Her eyes were closed.
Her body calm.
She was simply allowing herself to be still.
Our founder smiled.
In that moment, she felt a quiet sense of joy and deep validation.
“This is exactly why I created The Third,” she thought.
“She must’ve had a full weekend. Giving to others. Managing everything. And now, this is where she comes to rest and replenish.”
It wasn’t a big moment.
It was a quiet, powerful one.
And it reminded all of us why spaces like this are not just nice to have.
They are necessary.
Why This Matters
When women have access to nurturing third spaces, it changes everything.
They show up in their families with more patience.
They lead in their work with more clarity.
They connect with others from a place of fullness, not depletion.
These spaces aren’t about escaping life.
They’re about making room to live it with more meaning, more breath, more honesty.
Because when a woman feels whole, when she is grounded and cared for…she becomes a powerful force for herself, and for everyone around her.
The Third is an invitation
The Third is not a solution to every challenge women face.
But it is a soft landing.
A beginning.
A quiet shift back into rhythm with yourself.
A reminder that you are allowed to pause.
You are allowed to step away from the noise.
You are allowed to rest.
And you are allowed to be just you.
If you’ve been craving a space where you don’t have to lead, fix, solve, or give…
If you’ve been longing for a space that welcomes your complexity, your quietness, your hope…
The Third is here.
Come exhale.
Come reflect.
Come back to yourself.
Editor’s Note:
At EDIT, we believe in the power of language to reflect, restore, and remind us who we are. This piece by Anima Diouf is a love letter to every woman who has ever needed a moment to breathe. May it guide you home to yourself.
— Anima Diouf, Editor