Redefining “Strong Black Woman”

There have been moments when trying to live up to the notion of a “Strong Black Woman” have been so exhausting; a tired feeling felt deep down in my bones. The weight of trying to be strong left my back hunched and my shoulders rounded.  I knew I had to release this notion; this push and pull of appearing strong when I showed up in the world and then having to convince myself – all the while, breaking down in silence.  For many black women, we realize that deep down, we may not be as strong as the masks we wear.  The words we speak, are often not the ones to best describe how we feel in the moment.  We keep from saying we’re tired, for the sake of complaining.  We don’t ask for help when sick because, well, the world doesn’t stop just because you have a migraine and a runny nose. We keep from pushing pause and resting to regain ourselves. We keep pushing. The motor keeps running. We draw strength from the fact that we DO keep going, but that strength usually comes crashing down like a house of cards eventually. 

For me, that crash came when I got incredibly ill during this pandemic. My body warned me to take a beat, but I didn’t heed the warning. I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with a 102 fever. Showering hurt. My chest was heavy. That false sense of “strength” that made me feel as though I could do it all, disappeared. I couldn’t care for myself and against everything in me, I know I needed to ask for help.  To call my best friend to purchase medicine and items needed to help me recover was difficult.  Although she’s had my back in so many ways before, asking for this favor was hard! Asking my mom to drive 30 minutes out of her way to pick up my son, felt wrong in some weird way.  My mom would move hell and high water to help her kids, but I’ve always “had it.” After being tested for COVID and my results coming back negative, and confessing my actual truths to my therapist, I realized, I had nothing after all.  I had an idea that knocked me on my ass in trying to achieve it.  I started to look at redefining what the term “Strong Black Woman” meant to me.

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Here is how I am working to redefine it for myself:

1.Being a “Strong Black Woman” does not mean that you cannot ask for help.  It does not mean that you shouldn’t look to either build a soul tribe, a village. It means that if you have a village, you should look to them for their support.  What I have realized is that most times, this village would, without question, step up and support you 100%. Being a strong black woman, doesn’t mean that you don’t need anyone. For me, it means knowing that I do, and knowing how and when to ask for help! I now recognize that before I become too overwhelmed and at capacity and before the breakdown, I need to simply pick up the phone and ask for the favor.  Asking for help does not cancel your strength.

2. Being a “Strong Black Woman” does not mean that you do not take a break. I watched my mom rarely take one.  It was as if she never stopped going. Breaks, moments of rest, self-care Wednesdays, Fridays, Sundays, etc. (because who said self-care had to be limited to one day a week and be on a Sunday) are necessary. It is not any more honorable to try and be all things to all people, yet neglect taking the break to be ALL things to YOURSELF! I now openly say when I’m tired, without fear of being judged as a weak woman.  I recognize when I have hit my wall and will stop. I’ll go for a walk. I’ll light some incense for a midday meditation. I take proper care to ensure that my self care happens these days. So much so, that it’s scheduled on my calendar as recurring “meetings.” I take these breaks and my self care, THAT serious.

3. I started redefining the term to also include getting professional help to help me create the balance needed in my life.  Growing up in a black household, we rarely talk about or see our family members seek professional help. I’ve always been an advocate for therapy, but I will admit to talking myself out of needing it at certain points in my life.  I’d tell myself the lie that I was strong willed and could handle whatever I was going through.  As I look back, I realize that doing so only caused more strife than was necessary, but alas, I’ve learned! Knowing that you need professional help, actively seeking it and doing the work – Now, that’s strength!

4. Vulnerability. Being able to open up. This has been tough. Being transparent about what HURTS, not just about what angers me, but what hurts me. Allowing myself to show a soft emotion during the moments where my heart feels broken.  Or when I’m scared. The softer side of asking for what I need, rather than only expressing the opposite  – telling someone what they’re “not about to do,” for the sake of appearing strong, has been the hardest fight to redefining this all for myself. I’m realizing that there’s strength in the vulnerability too and I’m allowing myself to sit in it a little longer than I used to.

I’m a work in progress. I’m recognizing some things.  I see now that I’m better with my shoulders squared up, rather than hunched over by the weight of trying to live in a space, where my sense of strength is skewed. Redefining this for myself has given me strength.  A real, solid strength, that is all my own!

Be encouraged.

Find YOUR strength.