What comes to your mind when you think of a strong black woman? I’ve asked a few people this question and this is what I’ve gathered from the conversations. A strong black woman is a woman who has been through the muck and mire and yet she still remains on top! She has been through the turmoils of life and still smiles. Unfortunately in some cases, She has single-handedly raised all of her children without the assistance of their father. She smiles even when she wants to cry. She is the pillar, the foundation of her family, right?
Well, don’t shoot the messenger but I’m here to ask. What’s wrong with being just a strong woman without the need for underwriting the hardships and turmoil? Why can't I be a strong woman, without needing to validate the fact with hardships? Let me explain....
History has told many stories, through our ancestors, of strong black women and how they have had to overcome both stress and struggle. The road was hard; however even being barefoot while pregnant, didn’t stop these black women from persevering through the rough terrains of life. And with that alone, they should be celebrated, because life isn’t easy. We can’t forget about those darker times, when our black girls were taken advantage by their own family members and were told to keep quiet so they don’t disrupt the family structure because without the provider, where would we be? That had to take strength to deal with your oppressor, your abuser and continue to move forward, as if everything was okay, knowing you were breaking down on the inside every time he crept into your room. Grandma said be strong, mama said be strong, aunties said be strong. We were taught not to cry, and the tears that escaped? Well, wipe those tears, little girl, and put it behind us because WE ARE STRONG BLACK WOMEN!
Well I have news for you, if being a strong black woman requires this type of pain... I don’t want it.. why can't I be just a Strong Woman? A woman who enjoys her femininity, twirling with her sundress on while the wind sweeps her off of her feet. A woman who picks pink flowers and smells the red roses while taking an evening stroll. As she cooks, she cuts herself and actually cries out, because it hurts. And doing this without being told to suck it up. A woman who nurtures her family, hugs her children and loves the strength of her husband. She’s a healer because she is able to heal and makes everything better with love. A woman who cries at things that are sad, tears up at things that are happy and is indignant as injustice. Her positive attitude, soft heart, are accepted as a strength not a weakness. Why can’t I just be a strong, beautiful, but delicate and healed woman? Because all of what I know as a black woman has been the pains of life taking me out of my womanly character. I am a woman first. I am the nurturer. I am the teacher. The healer. These qualities are facts, they need no validation from pain, fear or hardship, because I have taken the time to heal myself, first.
So I’m calling all of my strong black women to heal thyself. Remove yourself from the overcasts and the shadows that haunt you from your past so that our daughters will be able to experience and embrace the joys of womanhood. They will be able to love being a woman first and foremost, before learning about the hardships of the world.
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