Beyond the Strong Black Woman: Making Space for Our Healing

Hey, sis!

Pull up a chair, or just kick back wherever you are. Let’s have a real, raw chat. Just us. How many times have you heard the phrase, “You’re such a strong black woman,” or even said it yourself? And yeah, it’s usually meant as a compliment, right? A shout-out to our resilience, how we always seem to hold it down, no matter what. And believe me, I get it. We are strong. Lord knows, we’ve had to be. But lately, I’ve been wondering… what if that very strength has actually penned us into a corner? What if it’s made us believe we have to carry all the burdens, all the time, in silence?

Girl, I’m gonna be honest with you. There have been days, way too many to count, when I felt like I was literally drowning in my own head. Just wading through a thick fog of thoughts and feelings. Trying to juggle family, my hustle, everybody’s expectations, and then just living as a black woman in this world… it felt heavy. Like a damn brick sitting right on my chest. And in those moments, that little voice in my head, the one that sounds like generations of unspoken burdens, would whisper, “You’re strong. You’ll figure it out. Don’t go bothering anyone else with your problems.” Does that sound familiar to you? Because it’s a tune I’ve heard playing in the background of my own life more times than I can count.

Sometimes, the cape needs to come off so the woman underneath can breathe. That’s a little gem my grandma used to drop, and whew, it hits differently now, doesn’t it? Especially when we’re talking about our minds and our spirits. Because underneath all that strength, all that resilience, we are still human. We feel things deeply, we hurt, we struggle, and we absolutely deserve to tend to our emotional wounds just like we would a cut on our arm or a broken toe.

So, let’s just lay it all out. Why is it sometimes so damn hard for us, as African American women, to admit we’re struggling and actually reach out for help with our mental well-being? Sis, it’s layered, honey, and it’s important we talk about every single one.

For generations, in our community, talking about mental health? Nah. That was a no-go. It was seen as strictly personal, something to be kept quiet, “in the family,” or even worse, a sign that you weren’t strong enough, or didn’t pray enough. We’ve been through so much that “just pray about it” became the go-to, and while faith is crucial, it’s not always the only answer. Plus, let’s be real, we’ve had to deal with a healthcare system that hasn’t always seen us, heard us, or treated us right. That’s a historical wound that makes trusting folks tough.

Then there’s the sheer weight of being a black woman in this world. We carry the echoes of history, the sting of racism, the constant little digs and microaggressions that just eat at your soul every single day. It’s like living life constantly walking uphill, against a strong wind, trying to keep your balance. That kind of relentless stress, honey, it takes a toll. Not just on your feelings, but on your whole body. You might find yourself with headaches that won’t quit, feeling tired no matter how much you sleep, or dealing with stomach issues that pop up out of nowhere. A lot of times, we just treat these physical aches and pains without even realizing they’re our minds and hearts trying to tell us something. This is what I mean when I say your mental and physical health are inseparable! They’re holding hands. You ignore one, the other suffers.

And Lord, the energy it takes to constantly explain ourselves, to justify our existence, to fight for our space in a world that often tries to shrink us. That daily navigation, that constant alertness—that’s the effect of why we might feel more anxious, more stressed out, more prone to just wanting to scream. It’s the constant drip-drip-drip of societal pressures. And then you add the beautiful, messy reality of being a woman, with all the expectations that come with it, it’s truly no wonder we sometimes feel like we’re at our breaking point.

But here’s the real talk, the unfiltered truth we champion here at Fifty and Unfiltered: it is absolutely okay not to be okay. Period. It’s not a flaw. It’s not a failure. In fact, choosing to say, “Hey, I need some help,” and actually reaching out? Sis, that is one of the bravest, most powerful moves you can make. It’s about busting out of those old boxes and deciding for yourself what true strength looks like.

Going to talk to someone—whether it’s a therapist, joining a sister circle, or just getting real with your bestie—is not weak. It’s a profound act of self-love and self-respect. It’s giving yourself permission to just be in a safe space, to unpack all that emotional baggage, to heal from old hurts, and to learn new ways to navigate this crazy life. It’s about finding your voice and getting the tools you need to handle the unique stuff we face as black women.

Think about it: if you had a pain in your knee that just wouldn’t go away, you’d go see a doctor, right? Our minds and our spirits deserve that same level of care and attention. Getting help can actually break those cycles of unspoken pain that have run through our families for generations. And it allows you to show up in the world as the most authentic, vibrant, and free version of yourself. It’s about building a solid foundation of inner peace that will lift you up, and everyone you love, for years to come.

If you’re reading this and nodding your head, feeling that little pull in your spirit, please know you are not alone. Not by a long shot. There are sisters out there, and resources made for us, by us, who truly get it. Do a little digging, talk to a trusted friend, or just sit quietly with yourself and really ask how you’re feeling, truly.

Your journey to healing, sis, that’s your power in action. And remember, darling, you don’t have to carry it all alone. It’s time we finally gave ourselves permission to take off the cape, to just breathe, and to make our own well-being the priority it deserves to be. Because ultimately, a truly strong black woman is one who knows her worth, is honest about her struggles, and isn’t afraid to reach for the hand that’s offered to help her thrive. Let’s claim that strength, sis. Let’s choose healing.