What does it mean to be the world’s superhero?
Written by Joann Njeri, Seeds of Power Fellow
Black women have been conditioned to be strong, resilient, and excessively tolerant to pain. Even in their suffering and disparities, Black women are told to keep pushing because they are capable. This has been instilled within Black women for centuries — and has tremendously affected us in multiple ways.
The narrative about Black women’s strength leads to the assumption that we are unable to feel pain — ultimately threatening our safety. For example, the CDC reports that Black women are three times more likely to die than white women when giving birth. This is a result of medical professionals ignoring Black women’s concerns and needs during labor.
Serena Williams had complications throughout her pregnancy and had to advocate for herself due to the lack of urgency from the nurses. She demanded a CT scan, and luckily, she was able to receive this. Even in pain and through labor, Black women have to advocate for themselves. Williams knew her medical history and being firm about the scan saved her life. However, not every Black woman has the energy to advocate for themselves throughout labor, which is more than understandable. Black women should not have to worry that their health won’t be prioritized. It is unacceptable for Black women to fear giving birth due to the possibility of medical neglect.
According to the Washington Post, Black women are far more likely to be killed by police than any other women. Black women make up about 13% of the US population; however, 20% of the women shot by police are Black. Unfortunately when this tragedy occurs, there is little to no media coverage. When you watch the current news, you see videos of people running from the police, high-speed chases, or people being belligerent to police officers. But as Black women, these privileges do not exist and just the smallest encounter could cost a Black woman her life.
Breonna Taylor, a 26-year-old Black woman, was shot inside her home in Louisville, Kentucky. This shooting occurred late at night when Taylor was with her boyfriend, Kenneth Walker. After he heard noises at their door, Walker fired his gun, assuming it was an ex-boyfriend of Taylor. When the police officers heard one gunshot, they fired ten rounds of ammunition — striking Taylor five times. Following her murder, numerous Black women began to wonder: When am I safe? When do I truly have protection?
The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence reports that more than half of female homicides are a result of intimate partner violence. For Black women, this issue is further complicated by the fact that there are limited avenues to seek support. For example, Black women are less likely to reach out to law enforcement due to the fear of experiencing police violence. Additionally, within the Black community, individuals are often stigmatized for seeking support since there is an emphasis about keeping ‘family business’ within the household. There are many Black women who feel trapped or shameful for thinking of leaving because they’ve been told: “you are a strong black woman, you don’t leave your man when things get hard.” What systems are we implementing to protect Black women?
Megan Pete, also known as Megan the Stallion, was recently attacked by a male rapper. When she shared her story, she was not embraced with grace and empathy. She was ridiculed, mocked, and questioned. A Black woman publicly announced to the world that she was shot — and now people were demanding to see the bullet wounds. During an Instagram Live, Megan revealed that she was trying to protect her assailant by not telling the cops that he had shot her. She discussed that, as a Black woman, she knew that putting her safety first could result in the loss of this Black man’s life. Even with her vulnerability and transparency, Megan was not embraced with tenderness and understanding. Why are the cries of Black women not enough? Why do we expect Black women to suffer in silence all in the name of “strength”?
These stories remind us that Black women are humans who bleed, cry, and fall down. During Women’s History Month, remind a Black woman that she matters. Forget about the ridiculous stereotypes, and ask her if she is okay. Lend a helping hand. Black women are not impenetrable shields; we deserve better. It’s time to show up for Black women in an overwhelming way since Black women have continuously shown up for everyone else. And to my fellow Black women, I want to remind you that we do not need to carry the weight of the world.
