For the Love of 'Too Much'
A sermon delivered August 31, 2025 at the First Unitarian Congregational Society in Brooklyn.
Back in my earlier dating days, I found myself in a scenario that will be familiar to many, and that became very familiar to me over the years: I was involved with a man who did not try. Displeased, I marshalled my then-developing inner strength and told him that I wanted him to engage with me more – to show his care through effort, and intention.
His response, and I quote: “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up now – I’ve already had this conversation twice this week.” As in, with two other women.
That was a new one. But what he said after that wasn’t new to me at all, even back then: “It’s too much, Candice. You’re being too much.”
That one, I’ve heard a million times over, and not just from noncommittal or otherwise immature paramours. That message has been relayed to me, in both subtle and overt ways, throughout my life – by people I know personally, by public figures, by movies and TV shows, by advertisers… you name it. Over and over again, the same conclusion: I have too much to say. My body’s too big. I’m asking for too much. I have too many needs. I am simply, in all ways, taking up too much space. And though I have the luxury of a strong foundation built with familial support and love, it’s impossible for such an onslaught to not leave cracks in its wake.
That young man likely didn’t realize, at least consciously, how his derision and dismissal of my metaphorical size, of my needs – of me – is part of something far larger, and far more troubling. But indeed, he is just one of many people, scores of people, generations of people – especially white people, and white men most of all – who use quieting as a means of dominance.
Those who have sought to limit my voice while in relationship with me, or those who seek to limit the voices of people with less privilege than them on far grander scales… those who tell anyone, in either context, that they should be satisfied with crumbs, and that having and articulating needs makes one burdensome, worthy of abandonment… makes them “too much”… they’re all simply seeking to quell that which threatens the comfort and ease they enjoy within the status quo.
Look at anyone who has dared to challenge, or even just question, our sexist, racist society, if you doubt what I’m saying – only for them to be singled out and labeled “needy,” “loud,” “bossy,” “grating,” “crazy” or “nasty” for their trouble. That’s if they get out of the situation being harmed and silenced solely with words, of course. And the more marginalized the person, the more likely they are to be forcibly shrunken and shut down. That is not coincidental.
Feminist writer Lindy West touched upon this in her book, “Shrill.” She pointed out that even the smallest deviations from a contained norm are enough to rile those with the most privilege in our society – that only our silence and invisibility would truly mollify them. “The real scam is that being bones isn’t enough either,” she wrote. “The game is rigged.”
She’s right – it is rigged. These acts of minimizing and silencing human beings are done by the same parties, the same groups, time and time again – because acts of enforced smallness are all about one thing: Holding on to control. Those who work this hard to maintain theirs – to maintain power… they know that if the rest of us are reduced to nothingness, we cannot advocate for change that advances us. Change that would force them to share, to listen, to step back and shut up at times.
Most insidious of all – we cannot find or learn from or bond with one another, if none of us can be heard or seen. As such, we cannot tap into the unique and awesome power that comes from joining together in pursuit of that change. And they know it. As my husband, Kyron, noted when I was discussing this sermon with him: “Divide and conquer – it’s an age-old strategy.”
Shame on its perpetrators. Especially because, in addition to it being personally, socially, politically and creatively harmful, the forcing of smallness upon others is also a spiritual transgression. In most every faith, people are encouraged to celebrate abundance, and give thanks for plenty. And Unitarian Universalists, specifically, are invited and encouraged to bring our whole selves into our spiritual practice – in service of creating a combined force whose good, collective power outclips that of any individual’s effort.
Yet there are those in this world who will clasp hands in gratitude for bounties of food laid before them – only to pardon themselves from their dinner tables so they may go forth and cut off individuals and groups who are bountiful in voice and spirit – to cut off those who seek bounty for all.
It isn’t just that we hold one another back from individual and collective improvement when we demand that others shrink – though that would be bad enough. That limiting is a betrayal, on the deepest levels.
And we all lose when we abandon one another in this way. We lose progress, of course. And we lose hope. But we also lose love – because we lose each other.
It must change.
To those who see their own negative behavior mirrored in my words: My point isn’t to castigate you for your past. Rather, it’s to invite you to think, in this present moment, about how you can grow out and away from that in the future. To consider how you can be big in your openness to and support of others – and to think about when you can step back instead of taking the reins. To embrace the taking of turns and the hearing of grievances and the passing of the metaphorical mic, with intention as to who you’re creating pathways for, in service of seeing us all lifted up and propelled forward.
And to those who have been harmed by impositions of smallness… those who have been minimized, undermined, stifled, pushed down or pushed aside by those with more power and privilege – and their fear-driven desire to retain both: Now is when we take it back.
Now is when we speak out. Now is when we make our presence known and voices heard. Now is when we find one another through that beautiful reclamation.
Now… is when we shine like stars. And I don’t mean the delicate twinkles that pepper our darkened skies. I mean the massive, swirling, blazing hot, near-chaotic giants that are so large they need their own unique unit of measure in order for their size to be properly quantified.
No one will lose here – though there is, of course, a need for nuance and the respecting of boundaries and turns, one nighttime glance upward reminds us that there is in fact more than enough room for every enormous one of us.
And in fact, at our most luminous, we can come together – present and respectful and listening deeply – to create something dazzling and new. Stars can build constellations of great beasts, warriors, deities… shapes that have inspired wonder and guided lost pilgrims throughout all of human recollection. Shapes that are effectively made only through the combined acts of growing gigantic… and then joining one another.
Or, to bring this metaphor down to Earth (in all ways): We can create safe, brave spaces where people share, and build, and take big swings. We can create choirs. Found families. Congregations. Communities. Movements.
Imagine the possibilities. – No really, as scholar and prison abolitionist Ruth Wilson Gilmore once said: “Imagine abundance as entitlement that binds us in radical interdependence. Just imagine it, and then do something to realize it.”
Because no one light dims when others are added to it. Light, when it is amplified and multiplied, bursts forth even stronger than it ever was in its singular form – showering radiance and warmth and hope upon everything it can reach.
But only if we let it shine.