Saying “Black woman” is not race discourse.It’s not divisive.It’s not inflammatory.It’s accuracy in the field of violence and abuse — a field that h
Phyllis Wheatley (c. 1753–1784) Phyllis Wheatley was one of the first published Black poets in the Western world and the first African American woman to publish a book of poetry. Born in West Africa—likely Senegal or Gambia—she was kidnapped as a child and forced onto the slave ship Phillis, which brought her to Boston in 1761. Enslaved by the Wheatley family, she learned English quickly and showed extraordinary literary talent. By age 20, she published Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (1773), a groundbreaking work that stunned audiences worldwide. Though she lived under the conditions of enslavement, her brilliance, faith, and artistry left a legacy that still inspires readers, writers, and truth-tellers today.
Saying “Black woman” is not race discourse.
It’s not divisive.
It’s not inflammatory.
It’s accuracy in the field of violence and abuse — a field that has avoided telling the truth for far too long.
For decades, this work has tiptoed around the realities that Black people live with every day:
Black men and boys harmed and unacknowledged
hyper-surveillance that marks innocence as guilt, turning ordinary behavior into something suspicious or criminal.
stereotypes that replace data
policies built on misconceptions
research that erases us altogether
And when harm is misnamed, the healing is misaligned.
When people are misrepresented, protection becomes uneven.
When systems refuse to tell the truth, survivors pay the price.
Black Victimization Has Been Silenced — Not Studied
The public conversation about violence loves neat categories:
victim, abuser, hero, threat.
But real life isn’t neat, especially for Black communities.
Black men and boys are overwhelmingly framed as perpetrators, even when they are the ones being harmed.
Black girls are labeled “fast,” “difficult,” “angry” or “defiant,” ….everything but protected.
Black women are expected to be strong enough to survive anything, and quiet enough not to disrupt anything.
Meanwhile:
childhood sexual abuse in
intimate partner violence
elder abuse
human trafficking
exploitation during poverty
wartime sexual violence
state violence
forced displacement
…these issues remain intentionally understudied, underfunded, and misunderstood.
Not because the pain isn’t real —
but because the system is more comfortable with the caricature of Black people than the truth of us. We may get a little bit of help here and there but only to the degree that we are willing to be silent about our Black pain, our Black history, and our Black life.
Listen to People Who Survived Beyond America’s Borders
And then…..something shifts when you speak with people who survived war, genocide, civil conflict, political collapse, or refugee journeys.
They tell stories different from anything you were taught in school.
They speak about:
the girl survived war and held what was left of her entire family together
the boy who hid with neighbors under floorboards
the father who carried children across borders
the mother who outsmarted soldiers
the grandmother who negotiated peace
the entire communities who became caretakers of one another
- the child soldiers coerced to….
And suddenly, the stereotypes taught in textbooks fall apart.
You realize how narratives are shaped to justify power, not to reflect truth.
You begin to see how false information doesn’t just distort the past —
it reshapes the present:
your neighborhood
your city
your policies
your social responses
your institutions
your assumptions
your expectations
your safety practices
The misinformation we inherited still directs how families are treated today.
Naming the Truth Is How We Build What’s Next
When you say “Black woman,” you are not bringing race into the conversation —
you’re acknowledging a group the conversation has historically ignored. Intentionally.
When you say “Black men and boys are also victims,” you’re correcting a lie that has done global harm. (That they are only perpetrators at-large….the most dangerous.)
When you talk about over-policing, mislabeling, misdiagnosis, and media distortion, you are naming patterns that have shaped trauma for generations.
This is not division.
This is repair.
This is what happens when people finally refuse to accept the version of history handed to them —
the one built to protect power, not people.
Telling the truth about Black lives isn’t dangerous.
The danger was always in the silence.
And now that we know better, we have a responsibility to speak with clarity,
to teach with accuracy,
and to protect with intention.
Striving for better doesn’t start with being polite.
It starts with being honest.
And honesty, when rooted in love and accountability, becomes a foundation strong enough to build a safer world — for all of us.