Power.That’s the word they fear most when it rises in a Black woman’s mouth. Our liberation will never be foundin tearing down each other’s choices.N
Power.
That’s the word they fear most when it rises in a Black woman’s mouth.
Our liberation will never be found
in tearing down each other’s choices.
Not in policing another woman’s healing,
not in judging how she mothers, resists, loves, or believes.
Our fight is not her womb.
Our fight is not her wardrobe.
Our fight is not her way of being free.
Our fight is against the institutions
that taught us to mistrust one another,
against the systems that profit from our division,
against the manipulative mouths
that whisper, “You are alone.”
We are not alone.
We are a thunderclap of foremothers’ prayers,
a lineage of women who have carried empires on broken backs
and still found time to dance.
So let’s aim our fire where it belongs—
at the deceivers, the exploiters,
the polished puppeteers of oppression.
Let’s claim the holy right
to protect each other instead of perfecting each other.
To build, not to bruise.
To challenge power, not sisterhood.
Because the revolution needs all of us—
soft, loud, weary, radiant,
each in her own sacred way.
Keep walking, creating, shining.
Let the world tremble
when Black women stand together unbought, unbroken, and unbothered. ✊🏾💫