When Love Isn’t Enough: What Toya & Reginé Taught Me About Boundaries, Entitlement, and Family

When Love Isn’t Enough: What Toya & Reginé Taught Me About Boundaries, Entitlement, and Family

Because sometimes, choosing peace means saying no—even to the people you love the most.

I’ve been watching Toya for years.

From Tiny & Toya to Family Hustle, and now with her latest show Toya & Reginé on WE tv and AllBlk, I’ve always felt a connection to her. There’s something about Toya that just feels genuine—like the girl you’d actually hang with in real life. She’s beautiful, smart, classy, got that NOLA accent I adore, and above all else, she feels real.

But the more I watched this recent season, the more I started seeing something that I’ve seen in my own life—and in the lives of so many successful women I know: the pressure to carry your family simply because you made it.

And whew, the weight of that is heavy.

The Pressure of “Making It” When Your Family Didn’t

Toya is Lil Wayne’s ex-wife, yes—but she’s also her own woman. She’s built a name, built businesses, raised a beautiful daughter, and lived through some of the worst grief imaginable. Two of her brothers were murdered. Others have been in and out of prison. She’s had to deal with addiction in her family, estranged relationships, and deep wounds that we’ve seen play out on TV over the years.

Yet she keeps showing up. Keeps giving. Keeps trying.

And from the outside, a lot of people think, “Well, she has it. Why not give it?”

But what happens when giving turns into obligation?

What happens when every time you help someone, they come back wanting more—and when they don’t get it, they try to publicly shame you, guilt you, or cut you off?

Because that’s what we’re seeing unfold with Toya and her family. And honestly, it’s triggering.

Support Isn’t Servitude. Being Family Doesn’t Mean You’re Entitled.

I’ve been keeping up with the comments on social media since Season 2 wrapped, and I’ve seen people defending Toya’s family like she’s never done anything for them. But that’s simply not true.

This woman has bought cars. Paid for housing. Invested in dreams. Supported businesses. Encouraged rehab and healing. Gave chances—multiple times. And still, it’s not enough.

There’s a powerful moment where her brother Casey gets upset at the dinner table because he feels like nobody supports his music. He basically tells Reginé that the only reason she gets opportunities is because her dad is Lil Wayne. And the way he said it? Loud, aggressive, almost bitter.

It was giving… entitlement.

And honestly, I had to pause. Because even if that’s true—so what?

Lil Wayne is Reginé’s father. Not Casey’s. Reginae doesn’t owe him a career. Neither does Toya. And Lil Wayne certainly doesn’t owe him a co-sign because he’s the uncle of his child. That’s not how this works.

Toya has tried. That should be enough. But when people are used to you being the plug, they stop seeing you as a person and start treating you like a provider.

And that’s not love. That’s exploitation.

The Trauma Isn’t Her Fault—And It’s Not Her Job to Fix It

Another layer to this is the family trauma. Toya and her siblings grew up with an addicted mother who wasn’t fully present in their lives. That kind of pain runs deep. But what I noticed is that they’ve somehow transferred their unmet needs onto Toya, as if she’s the one who was supposed to raise them.

But Toya didn’t leave them. She didn’t abandon them. She didn’t cause the trauma.

She simply survived it—and now she’s being punished for doing so.

When Toya got in a position to live better, she tried to take her family with her. She wanted to create experiences, offer support, build memories. But instead of gratitude, she’s often met with guilt trips and manipulation.

It’s like she’s being forced to mother grown people who resent her and yet still expect her to save them.

When Is Enough… Enough?

Reginé said something that stuck with me:

“No matter what I do, it will never be enough.”

That line hit hard. Because so many of us—especially Black women—have been conditioned to overgive, overextend, and overcompensate. To be the strong one. The responsible one. The one who’s always there, no matter what.

But here’s the truth: you can love your people and still set boundaries.

You can want better for them and still walk away if it’s costing you your peace.

You can be the “successful one” and still say: “I can’t do this for you anymore.”

A Love Letter to the Toyas of the World

To every woman who’s ever been expected to carry a family on her back just because she made it out…

To the ones who keep giving, even when it’s never enough…

To the ones who are tired of being punished for their success, and still show up with love in their hearts…

This is for you.

You are allowed to protect your peace.

You are allowed to stop rescuing people who don’t want to be saved.

You are allowed to say “no” without guilt.

Love doesn’t mean martyrdom.

Support doesn’t mean sacrifice.

Family doesn’t mean forever access.

It’s okay to set boundaries—even with your blood.

Especially with your blood.