There are furious debates about this behind closed doors. Personally, the older that I get, the more conservative I tend to be with my energy flow.
There are furious debates about this behind closed doors. Personally, the older that I get, the more conservative I tend to be with my energy flow.
At the heart of it:
Black women’s attention, solidarity, and care are sacred.
They are not default. They are not automatic.
They are not something anyone is entitled to.
Black women have carried entire movements, families, faiths, and futures on their backs—often without rest, reciprocity, or recognition. So the question: “Who is truly deserving?” is not cynical—it is righteous discernment.
The truth is:
Many have expected Black women’s loyalty but have not earned it.
Many have weaponized Black women’s strength while refusing to protect their vulnerability.
Many have demanded solidarity from Black women but go silent when Black women need it most.
So who is deserving?
Those who see Black women as fully human, not just heroic.
Those who are willing to stand with Black women when it’s not convenient or trending.
Those who are ready to listen without ego, and act without centering themselves.
Those who are committed to justice that doesn’t erase or sideline Black women’s pain, joy, or power.
Those who are building safety, not extracting energy.
- Those who respect us as full human beings and as women.
And Black women deserve this, too:
To choose when and where their energy goes.
To say no without guilt.
To grieve what was stolen and protect what remains.
To center themselves in their own freedom dreams.
So when a Black woman asks, “Is anyone truly deserving of my attention, my solidarity?”
If you want our attention, our care, our power beside you—
Then your actions need to say:
You see Black women as fully human, not just strong.
You show up when it’s not convenient or viral.
You don’t just demand—weary us with need—but reciprocate and protect.
You don’t silence our rage, our grief, our wisdom—you make space for it.
You don’t drain our light—you defend it.
Being “deserving” of a Black woman’s care is not a birthright.
It’s a responsibility.
It’s a reckoning.
We’re not asking for permission to center ourselves anymore.
We’re doing it.
We’re reclaiming our energy.
We’re choosing where our power flows.
And from here on out—that power flows with purpose.
