There are people—loud and determined—who would have you believe that the systemic rape of women of color ended with slavery.That is a lie. A har
There are people—loud and determined—who would have you believe that the systemic rape of women of color ended with slavery.
That is a lie. A harmful, deliberate lie.
Survivors know it.
The perpetrators know it.
And truth be told, so do many of our so-called “allies”—of every shade and gender.
On this first day of Black History Month, I choose to honor the unbreakable spirit of a woman who stood boldly against that violence.
Today, we lift up the legacy of Fannie Lou Hamer.
When Fannie Lou Hamer was just a young girl growing up in the Mississippi Delta, her grandmother and mother warned her of a brutal reality: In the South, a Black woman’s body was never fully her own.¹
And heartbreakingly, those words proved true.
As a young woman seeking medical care for a simple cyst, Fannie Lou Hamer was subjected to a full hysterectomy—without her knowledge, without her consent.
She had dreamed of having children.
She was never given the choice.
But the cruelty didn’t end there.
On June 9, 1963, Fannie Lou and other members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee were arrested while returning from a citizenship training session.
Their “crime”? Eating at a whites-only lunch counter.
At the jailhouse door, they were met by hatred incarnate—a sheriff who cursed them, spat slurs at them, and promised retribution.
One by one, the women were brutalized—beaten, violated, dehumanized—while their sisters listened, helpless and horror-stricken, to the sounds of their suffering.
When they came for Fannie Lou, they vowed to make her “wish she were dead.”
Despite fighting back with all the strength in her soul, the cruel prophecy she was warned about as a child came true again:
A Black woman’s body was never treated as hers alone.
The Civil Rights Movement was never just about bus seats or lunch counters.
It was about total, uncompromising justice.
It was about the sacred right of a Black woman to own her body, her future, her life.
And that fight—for the full safety, dignity, and autonomy of Black women—must remain at the heart of our work today.
On this first day of Black History Month, I honor Fannie Lou Hamer—not just as a civil rights icon, but as a Survivor who fought for other Survivors with ferocity and grace.
I honor her.
I thank her.
I remember the whole truth—because Black history deserves nothing less.
If you want to dig deeper into the full, unfiltered story, I urge you to read At the Dark End of the Street by Danielle L. McGuire.
It’s a powerful, necessary book—and it shines a light on the courageous Black women who fought battles too often left out of the textbooks.
It holds a five-star rating on Amazon, and frankly, it deserves even more than that.
This Black History Month—and every month—we tell the truth.
We honor the brave.
We protect what they fought for.
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