SIDE EFFECTS OF THE “STRONG INDEPENDENT BLACK WOMAN” MYTH
SIDE EFFECTS OF THE “STRONG INDEPENDENT BLACK WOMAN” MYTH
Become Who You Are
We’ve all heard that phrase before and probably have used it ourselves as black women at least once in our lives. Being a “Strong independent black woman” is generally and culturally seen as a qualifier to be proud of and wear as a badge almost. After all, it has helped fuel our drive to succeed despite limited resources at times, and has assisted us in overcoming hardships. However, it turns out that this “superwoman schema”, as researchers call it, carries a lot more damaging consequences for us than advantages.
In relation to colonialism and slavery, black people have had to adopt mechanisms around survival, especially black women and girls, who faced an inevitable life of violence, exploitation and oppression even more. Nowadays, whether it’s about coping with daily racial discrimination or dealing with our overall stress, this “superwoman” armour is still derived from this historical context and embedded in a survival response. Yet, it does not guarantee survival, and even if it did, at what cost would it be?
Let’s have a look at some side effects of the “Strong independent black woman” stigma.
Difficulty asking for help
As the expression embodies someone who is strong and independent, and therefore shouldn’t need help, a lot of us really do tend to play into it, to our own detriment. We’re there for everybody else in our lives, but have a hard time asking for the same in return. We take on and we take on, more than we can carry, over and over again. That’s how we end up overworked, burned-out and in (psychological) distress. At the same time, most of us have never really been thought how to ask for help and wouldn’t even know where to begin. In addition to that, we were conditioned to believe that seeking professional mental help is a sign of weakness, as it goes completely against the expectations of strength and self-reliance put upon us. So this cycle ends up being very destructive for black women. It’s also worth mentioning that “mental health resources are much less available, accessible and reflective of the dark skinned Black woman, the Black woman in poverty, the queer Black woman, Black women with disabilities, the fat Black woman, the list goes on as these institutions not only lack a decolonial framework of doing mental health to subvert colonial notions of madness and the stereotype of the [Strong Black Woman], but also lack the understanding of the nuance that comes with intersection in Black womanhood.”(1)
READ : 6 HEALTHY WAYS TO DEAL WITH THE INJUSTICES HAPPENING DAILY AGAINST BLACK PEOPLE
Feeling an obligation to suppress emotions
Black women have been dealing with so much hurt and loss over the centuries, that repressing pain has almost become something of a second nature to us. We’ve learnt to push through it and persevere from a young age. On top of that, we get that superhuman persona that validates this behaviour and keeps us from affecting other people’s lives with our emotions. How convenient for them! No wonder this myth is widely accepted! Therefore, we don’t cry. And if we do, it’s alone, far from any witness who could attest to our moment of weakness. And it’s usually after weeks, months or even years of pent up emotions that erupt as they come out. As much as we can be there for others, we often lack compassion for ourselves and deny ourselves the right to be comforted. It probably has to do with the fact that accepting comfort in our lives is a concept so foreign to us, we wouldn’t know how to act — or so we think! But it’s probably at the top of the list of things we need and should surrender to.
Resistance to being vulnerable
This one goes hand in hand with the suppressed emotions. The myth of the Strong independent black woman is used to strip her from her human emotions, limitations in regards to her boundaries and vulnerabilities. It keeps her perpetually emotionally guarded and invulnerable to even those very close to her. We feel pressure to not show any signs of stress and emotionality, otherwise we fear being seen as weak, needy or in search of attention. There is some truth to that though, as some make a connection to low self-esteem. It becomes very hard then to feel comfortable being vulnerable, especially around other people.
Feeling pressure to fit the image of strength
We might feel shame, stress, or like an imposter if we’re not at least acting like we’re the embodiment of the Strong independent black woman. And if we don’t, other people might make sure to put it in our face. Expressing our true, complex and nuanced selves has no place in this stereotype. So we self-sacrifice, put our feelings aside to cope with the daily stress brought by discrimination, work overtime, put others’ needs before our own and bend over backwards to fit that mold that’s been crafted for us, but doesn’t benefit us at all it seems. But that’s what society says is acceptable for us to be, or we’re no use to them. And in the name of survival and “success” in these modern times, we continue to be this rock for our community. Heavy, silent, cold, unbreakable… except we do break.
Being seen as “the angry black woman”
The strength seen in black women is often confused with masculinity and masculine energy, as if strength is a quality inherent to men. Not only do black women get dehumanized emotionally through this white supremacist society, but our anger, pain and suffering get distorted in a way that emplies that we’re so cold and devoid of emotions that the only one we can express is anger. We’re either too mad, too loud or too strong. As a result, everything we do or say is seen and analyzed through that inaccurate filter, which only purpose is to make a case for itself and prove it’s right, and there is no space for our real feelings to be actually seen for what they are. Another consequence of this “angry black woman” stigma is that a lot of us decide to not express dissatisfaction, disagreement and frustration in public, professional and/or white spaces, and instead choose to comply and stay silent by fear of being labeled as such.
Our physical and emotional pain not being taken seriously
It’s no secret that over the centuries, and still to this day, black people have been experimented on as slaves, zoo animals and guinea pigs by “scientists” and anyone in power really. Along the Strong black woman myth was also born the false belief that black people don’t feel pain as much as other races. Supported by deliberately deceitful “pseudo-scientific” theses, it was all of course to justify to their horrible actions. Mental health institutions are known to have experimented on black women’s bodies in colonial history. In their eyes, it was natural for us to endure pain and we were fit to withstand it as strong black women. We still experience it in hospitals and through the health system. Doctors and nurses neglect us and our afflictions, resulting in our deaths in higher rates than other groups. Another depiction of that is our hyper-sexualisation now and even then, when they allowed themselves to put us through all sorts of depraved sexual violence on the ground of that desensitized image they had created of us to make themselves feel less bad about the atrocities they were inflicting on us.
Complicated relationships with (black) men
You’ve probably also heard this derivative of the phrase: “I’m a strong independent black woman who don’t [sic] need no man [sic]”. The independence is STRONG with this one! However, what it does is play right into this limiting belief. Instead of affirmations and mantras to attract love and the things we want out of love and in life, we cast this spell that will in fact ensure that we stay strong, independent — and alone — by scaring away any suitor! It’s not enough that we’re already seen as too hard to love, this stereotype also entraps black men by encouraging dysfunction between them and us at a very intimate level. In a society of power dynamics and dualities, “the pair “weak man / strong woman” functions in a binary opposition with the pair dominant man / submissive woman. The submissive woman and dominant man are white, and right: the message is, you have to be white to be a “real” man or a “real” woman.” Therefore, “(a)t its full capacity, the “weak Black man” and “strong Black woman” constitute a binary in which each term is dependent on the other to define it.”(2) And only adds to the other stress factors and tensions we go through as black people that affect our romantic relationships.
But that is only if we decide to accept to fall for this ideology and those myths about us that are in place to divide us to better conquer us. We don’t have to swallow what society is feeding us, especially not their representations of us, our self-worth, our love and the way we love each other. Healing starts and ends with us, individually and as a community. Let’s think about that.
Reference: 1&2 Stewart, C. P., (2018) The Mule of the World: The Strong Black Woman and The Woes of Being ‘Independent’. I. Relationality as Resistance, (3), 31-39.
As I’m always looking to learn something new about the world and its people, I've also been on a journey to discover the world within my own self. Which is why I love sharing and exchanging opinions and knowledge with people. In a way, communication has always been part of my pursuit, whether it was by getting my bachelor's degree in Communications, hosting a radio show in Australia even though I barely spoke English back then, or even by recently getting a certification in NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming). I feel like I have so much to share with the world. And so much more to learn.
