I am a Black woman.I was raised as a Black woman in the United States of America.Raised to be strong, to be smart, to see danger from around the cor
I am a Black woman.
I was raised as a Black woman in the United States of America.
Raised to be strong, to be smart, to see danger from around the corner.
Raised not to cry in front of y’all.
Raised to endure.
And I have sat in rooms—rooms full of Black women seeking shelter, seeking help, seeking life—only to witness something colder than any winter.
Non Black women colleagues who felt comfortable enough to say something akin to:
“Those women don’t deserve softness.”
“They’re tough. They’ll be fine.”
“They probably brought it on themselves.”
They laughed.
I’m a joy filled soul. They expected me to join in.
That moment didn’t just break my heart and idealism—it revealed a truth too many of us live:
Black women are not seen as worthy of compassion.
Not even in crisis.
Not even when we are bleeding.
But what breaks my heart more deeply is this:
Sometimes, we do it to each other.
We say:
“She should’ve known better.”
“She’s too strong to fall for that.”
“She probably liked the drama.”
We’ve learned to say that.
Learned it from systems that profit off our silence.
Learned it from families that prized survival over softness.
Learned it from churches, media, courtrooms, schools.
We learned to blame ourselves.
To absorb pain as proof of strength.
To stay too long, forgive too soon, and pretend we’re okay.
But this is our time to unlearn it all.
Why do we speak about courageous women who are engaging in the highest form of self-care—leaving abuse, seeking safety—as if they are fools?
Why do we reach for crystal balls and claim “she should have seen it coming”?
Why do we act like we’ve never needed help ourselves?
What is it triggering inside us?
Because triggers are messages.
They’re not shameful. They’re guides.
They point us to the places that need healing.
They reveal what we’ve carried that was never meant for us.
We can be better.
We must be better—for the Black women crying in their cars, sleeping in their cars, sleeping in shelters (only if there is space & no males), walking into courtrooms alone.
We start with us.
Not the system.
Not the state.
Us.
We start by saying:
I will not shame her.
I will not talk about her behind her back.
I will not laugh at her pain to make myself feel wiser.
I will not pretend I’m invincible, and she was just weak.
We start by holding softness for Black women.
By holding a mirror to ourselves.
By remembering that she is me—and I am her.
When Black women rise in truth, in courage, in care for themselves, they are not foolish.
They are free.
Let us not be the chains they must break through next.
#WeSurviveAbuse #UnlearnBlame #BlackWomenDeserveSafety #SoftnessIsSurvival #SurvivorSupportStartsWithUs
