Issa Insecurity: Understanding Communication as a Black Woman

After being introduced to Insecure, and finally having a visible, on-screen, character that I, as a growing dark-skin woman, can relate to, I’ve realized how I have been an Issa at some point in my life. Now, this is not to shame the character portrayed as Issa because she is someone living her truth and truth, no matter how shameful, or heartbreaking, is something we should all practice incorporating into all parts of our lives. I will admit however, that watching Issa unravel her many layers has caused me to practice some self-reflection. Much of her unraveling has also showcased the evident issue when it comes to black women and effective communication.
The perception of how black women communicate has been constructed to portray us as enraged, bitter, or plain pitiful whenever we have opinions that do not conform with the masses, or even with our own peers, and family members. As a dark-skin woman, this perception is worsened due to social constructs such as colorism, and misogyny. With these perceptions constantly being placed on the backs of black women, it can create a deep-seated insecurity within us and as we attempt to navigate through the mud of our own lives, we find that there is really no safe place for our honest feelings. With such a place being so essential to personal growth, we find that without it, many of us have difficulty communicating our truth in fear of being judged, or even worse, reprimanded.
As a young black girl, I was always told of the different ways I must act in order to be liked. I was to act like a “proper” black girl so that I could be groomed for things like dating, and marriage. I was to separate myself from my blackness so that I could be properly represented and not attract the contempt of the white majority. I was to act grateful for everything, despite my disagreement, so that people would not perceive me as ungrateful and unworthy of being loved by anyone in this world. I was never given a manual on how to act this way, but I began to notice what the opposite of doing so entailed.
Whenever I had a dissenting opinion, or whenever I was passionate about any argument I presented, I was considered to be difficult. Whenever I complained about the trials of life, I was considered unworthy. Whenever I didn’t agree with men, especially concerning their opinions of women, I was considered bitter, and angry. Whenever I showed emotion, outside of happiness or sorrow (because black women aren’t afforded the right to have honest emotional range), I was considered pitiful. And because I was dark and without the physical appeal to be granted permission to do any of these things, I was especially scolded, and reprimanded by everyone that saw my behavior.
I quickly came to learn that to be considered “worthy,” I had to exist quietly. I had to withdraw from expressing emotion that didn’t fit this caricature of appeal. Being an “appealing” black woman to the rest of the world means that you can only exist discreetly, like a whisper. Being too loud, or opinionated will only entail that you are angry, and unsatisfied with life — two things that aren’t uncommon, but as black women, we are not allowed to be these things if we want to be liked, or even loved. Imagine being a young black girl, unaware of the world, and how you fit within it, but being told consistently that you cannot exist fully or you will not be loved by anyone. These kinds of teachings can create insecurities that eventually affect the ways that we communicate and how we communicate ultimately effects everything else.
Within the show Insecure we watch how Issa navigates through her life with her man, now ex, best-friend, and colleagues. Throughout the show, we laugh, and enjoy the different ways she shows all of herself. The only problem is that she’s showing all of herself to herself, and no one else. Even her best-friend Molly, played by Yvonne Orji, doesn’t see the full range of Issa. We come to understand this especially as Issa lies or omits information in order to incorporate Molly in her personal, and manipulative schemes. Throughout the show it becomes clear that Issa has a problem with effective communication. She doesn’t know how to effectively communicate her genuine feelings, or maybe she does, but she is afraid to.
We see this behavior within her interactions with her colleagues that involve intense moments of passive aggressiveness. We see this within her past relationship with Lawrence, played by Jay Ellis; when she is underwhelmed and upset at his behavior, she never explicitly expresses this to him, but instead uses outside sources as means to decompress. When she does express herself to her best-friend, Molly, she is quickly told to be grateful. Molly pleads to Issa that although she may be unhappy, she is lucky — to be a black woman, and with a man that wants her, no matter how unsatisfied, is better than being unwanted, and lonely. It’s these kinds of conversations that teach women to silence themselves for the sake of not being considered ungrateful. It’s these kinds of conversations that teach women that their truth is not as valuable as their ability to attain relationships.
While there is never any justification to lie, or cheat or treat others poorly, I imagine that Issa, the character, grew to be this way because of what she was told as young black girl — she must relinquish her authenticity in order to be adored. She must remain silent in her moments of truth and frustration because who wants to be seen as the stereotypical “angry black woman?” Who wants to be deemed as difficult and ungrateful when all you’re attempting to do is express yourself? Clearly not Issa, and surely, although this narrative is quickly being banished, not many of us.
Something else to recognize is that this behavior also serves as a defense mechanism. It’s never been just about admiration and relationships. Most black women that I know will explain that they no longer care about these things, but do care about protecting themselves by any means necessary, even if that means withdrawing from honest communication. For example, how many of us have lied to men soliciting attention from us by saying that we had boyfriends waiting for us (not that it matters to most men anyway), knowing that we didn’t? Black women are among the most mistreated within this world, and from being killed by state-sanctioned violence, to being murdered by black men within domestic violence or street harassment cases, it should be easy to understand why truth is sometimes a risk we can’t afford to take, despite how important it may be. Many of us would rather tell a minimal lie to survive — to remain alive, and able within the world.
Insecure hasn’t taken a more focused approach on such issues yet, but I do remember Issa imagining the reactions of Lawrence when telling him about the encounter with her previous fling, and she imagined that he would hit her. That probably explains why she never spoke of it to him, until it was far too late to savor any kind of nobility. She doesn’t speak, out of fear, from beginning to end, and that’s been the story for many black women, including myself.
I understand the importance of speaking truthfully now and I’ve made a habit of incorporating my voice into every part of my life regardless of dissenting opinion, but not many black women are afforded this luxury, and even the ones that are, can be quickly forced back into withdrawal. This is important to understand when discussing the variety of issues when it comes to black women and communication. It’s not an excuse, but a fact that highlights how we all must work towards providing better flows of communication, not just black women. The labor of fixing these issues is something that cannot be done by black women alone. It requires honest and profound analyzation of the history between black women, and the rest of the world. It requires recognition that while truth is praised when highlighted, it’s something that’s not always allowed to be told by black women because of the dangerous, demeaning consequences that can follow.
I encourage all black women to speak their truth out loud and reclaim their power but I do not reprimand, scold, or even pity the ones that do not or cannot because I am aware of the great risk that often comes with speaking out loud. The one piece of advice that I can give is: as a black woman, try to incorporate safe spaces that you can speak in. If you must branch away from your everyday life to feel safe, please do not hesitate to do so. Understand that you’re not alone. Understand that there are many of us that are just like you, and willing to support you within this battle to find and use your voice. And if all else fails, watch Insecure maybe get a laugh or two, and understand that you are seen, and loved anyway.
