"People expect Black women to be strong. We’re invincible. We’re magical, majestic, something other. You can shoot us down and plow us over, and we’ll still be a beacon for our people. No – if you shoot me I’m going to bleed out and die. Ain’t no Black girl magic in that. Why can’t we just be human?” – Taraji P. Henson
When Olympic gold medalist Simone Biles and tennis star Naomi Osaka prioritized their mental health over strenuous competition this year, many folks were shocked. Some were downright vicious, calling Biles a ‘quitter’ and shaming Osaka for sharing her struggles with depression and social anxiety.
Lately, I have grappled with how the mostly positive framing of Black women as flawless and magical is often conflated with the destructive “strong black woman” trope. We uplift each other in this way to show solidarity and sisterhood, and to highlight Black women who are meaningfully taking up space. But the Biles and Osaka situations revealed the ugly truth of what happens when women of color dismantle the notion of “success at all costs.”
Can we reimagine and redefine what womanhood and excellence look like for us? This question provokes many thoughts for me – here are a few.
Addressing emotional and psychological needs
“Black women have been conditioned to be everything to everyone, prioritizing and catering to the needs of others while neglecting our own.” – Nina Westbrook
In the U.S., women experience depression at rates twice that of men. However, Black women are about half as likely as white women to seek treatment. There are longstanding, institutional barriers to healthcare for BIPOC communities, which at least partially explains why Black women could be reluctant to seek help. Compounding the issue are cultural and historical influences that tend to shape our idea of wellness.
Actress and activist Taraji P. Henson discusses her struggles with depression and anxiety in an interview with SELF.
In a 2018 research article exploring the impact of posttraumatic slave syndrome, Dr. Michael J. Halloran writes, “The effects of African American enslavement transmitted through successive generations cannot be underestimated; the trauma of enslavement is argued to have been carried by African Americans and manifest in contemporary social, psychological, and physical problems.”
Because Black families have suffered oppressive, generational trauma, many of us are taught that creating a facade of impenetrable strength is aspirational. Black women, who are often the breadwinners and emotional core of the family, bear the heaviest weight in this case. But what if strength wasn’t synonymous with magic? What if we celebrate seeking help and treatment just as much as we celebrate defying all odds? What if we embrace setting boundaries and being in touch with our emotions?
Our courage is not defined by our capacity to withstand the burdens of trauma, structural racism and misogyny. Courageousness arises from the realization that we cannot do it all alone. That asking for help is a sign of bravery, not ineptitude.
Questioning the concept of “work-life balance”
We need to do a better job of putting ourselves higher on our own ‘to-do’ list.” – Michelle Obama
In an era where 45% of full-time employees in the U.S. are working partly or fully remotely, the line between “work” and “home” can be blurry at times. For Black women, this blurred line is more extreme because of disparate career outcomes driven by majority-white power structures.
The emphasis on over-productivity being a factor when it comes to climbing the career ladder weighs more heavily on women of color. Not only are Black women paid a measly $0.63 for every dollar paid to white men, Black employees comprise only 8% of executive leadership positions at the most valuable corporations in the U.S.
“Work-life balance” is an inherently biased term because we aren’t on an equal playing field. In a study highlighted in the 2020 State of Black Women in Corporate America report, Black women reported that “only 1 in 3 managers have checked in on their status, condition, or wellbeing.” Equal access to career mentorship, which can pave the way for raises and promotions, is often not within reach for Black women who are navigating the workplace.
“Work-life balance” is also problematic because it suggests that a thriving career and personal wellness are inextricably intertwined – when we really should be prioritizing our holistic wellbeing ahead of striving (and burning out) for professional success.
Maybe we should seek balance as opposed to work-life balance. This simplicity allows for more flexibility in defining what a balanced life means for us as individuals, particularly when facing the realities of implicit bias and discrimination.
Going for boundless love
“All too often women believe it is a sign of commitment, an expression of love, to endure unkindness or cruelty, to forgive and forget. In actuality, when we love rightly, we know that the healthy, loving response to cruelty and abuse is putting ourselves out of harm’s way.” – bell hooks, All About Love
We’re taught at a young age that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. But this is not a one-size-fits-all life lesson – especially when it comes to relationships.
Invisible wounds are just as painful and enduring as physical wounds and the scars they leave behind. Black women have been conditioned by society to accept the bare minimum when it comes to love, and we are often programmed to believe that romance must be hard fought and treacherous for it to be genuine and worthwhile.
We’ve also been conditioned to accept less than we are worth to avoid the prospect of loneliness.
In 2019, researchers interviewed a group of Black and Hispanic women in North Philadelphia, 70% of whom reported their loneliness “stemmed from a combination of trauma and loss, unhealthy family and romantic relationships, feeling the burden of responsibility, and a lack of supportive relationships.”
In the piece “Decolonizing Love In A World Rigged For Black Women’s Loneliness,” author Shaadi Devereaux writes, “The long nights of our bones aching from lack of holding, the pit in our stomach that moves when the chance of love comes near, the shivers across our spine when we think of touch. These are the senses longing to return from the dead. It means that we are alive. It means that we are human, despite what the world has to say about “the wrong kinds of women” like us.”
What if we accepted nothing less than boundless love? Relationships, platonic or romantic, that don’t make us question our self-worth. Love that doesn’t require us to be more or less than who we are.
Accepting nothing less than a standard of love that is pleasurable to all senses and is so profound that it feels borderline radical. This is my dream and hope for myself and all Black women.
Dating yourself
“Women have to take the time to focus on our mental health — take time for self, for the spiritual, without feeling guilty or selfish.” Beyoncé Knowles-Carter
Looking within for radical love is tough. It’s something that I’m learning how to do gradually. The Black Girl Bliss platform has great resources for exploring why self-love is often difficult, and advice for cultivating true play and pleasure.
Dating yourself can be a game-changer. Like rest, a solo date does not have to be “earned.” These dates can be as simple or luxurious as your interests, mood and preferences. Check out these solo date ideas from Thrive if you’re looking for a spark.
The most important thing to remember is you should never feel guilty for setting aside time to pamper yourself – regardless of your relationship status. Schedule a daring solo date and be sure to put it on your calendar. It’s empowering to create this type of loving energy for you and only you.
More ways to reset narratives and redefine our success?
I’d love to hear your thoughts and responses. Is there anything you would add to this list or delve into further? Feel free to also reach out to me via email: nicole@nicoleishere.com.
Cheers to a more loving, forgiving and genuine you.
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