You
call the role of the Strong Black Woman a myth—what exactly is
this myth, and how did it come to be? What are the dangers of the
myth?
The
longest standing myth about black women is that they are meant to
be the pillars of strength in the American family. As the
legendary nannies of so many white American families, and as the
sole providers in so many of their own households, black women
gave themselves over to the needs of others. During slavery, they
birthed and nurtured new members into the slave labor pool, and
the patriarchy quickly realized that controlling black women meant
control of the race. Black women became strong in resistance to
dehumanizing efforts to gain control over them. As the myth of the
Strong Black Woman took hold in the American psyche, it denied
black women the opportunity to create self-realized and personally
fulfilling lives. Black women had no choice but to forsake
opportunities to create lives of their own; today, the myth
continues to threaten the Strong Black Woman’s ability to
embrace a deeper experience of love, self-care, sisterhood, and
joy in her life.
What is your
background, and how did it bring you to writing? What do you hope
to accomplish in your exploration of strength in black life?
At
the core, I’m driven by a desire to create individual,
interpersonal, and cultural freedom through healing. For twenty
years, I have communicated that professionally as a consultant and
life coach in the areas of cultural diversity, work-life balance,
and organizational development. Outside of work, I strive to take
the time to stay in touch with myself, nurture my creativity, and
challenge the self-limiting beliefs I have about others, the
world, and myself.
In
my writing, I explore strength in black life in order to incite
positive thought in black people today who don’t believe that
greater love, self-care, and joy is possible for them. I want to
convey with urgency the message that black people in America must
make a fundamental decision about the character of our lives. We
can succumb to the negative stereotypes, myths, and beliefs that
are forced upon us, or we can rally our willpower to counter those
forces by defining our lives and relationships on our own terms.
This book is the first of a trilogy that I am writing about
strength in black life. My next book will look at strength in the
lives of black men.
In
the first chapter of the book, you define and distinguish three
different types of love. What are they, and how do they impact
Strong Black Women?
As
far as I can see, many sisters are still looking for a perfect
love, which is often that idealized notion of the big-rock,
white-horse, hideaway-mansion, Hollywood kind of love. Today, the
question of love is foremost in many sisters’ minds, but it’s
complicated by any number of factors beyond their control.
Through
the course of the interviews I conducted, I identified three main
types of love operating in these women’s lives: romantic love,
platonic love, and self-love. Each has a unique impact on the
lives of men and women; the ways in which they’re balanced (or
not balanced) determine what we pay attention to, and demonstrate
what we value and what we pursue in our quests for perfect love.
As I listened to women describe how they pursue and experience
perfect love, I discovered that three questions emerged, each
corresponding to one of the three types of love:
·
Romantic Love raises
the question, Do I deserve your love?
·
Platonic Love raises
the question, Do you deserve my love?
·
Self-Love raises
the question, Do I deserve my love?
Each
chapter in the book provides a deeper examination of these three
forms of love and how they work in black women’s lives,
providing useful insight for answering these questions.
You’ve
devoted a full chapter to the issue of abandonment. How does this
issue affect black women? What strategies do you offer to help
them cope with it?
Sooner
or later abandonment happens to nearly everyone, and if the
resulting wound goes unhealed, it can profoundly shape how you
participate in relationships for the rest of your life. In many
cases, women have come to believe that all men are destined to
abandon them. But for black women, abandonment is a unique problem
because of the numerous ways—interpersonal, social, and
cultural—in which it fuels the Strong Black Woman myth.
For
many black women, being strong means never giving anyone the
chance to do wrong by them again. Abandonment insists that we
assess the world in terms of black and white: you are for me or
against me. There is a taxing psychic pressure on the
consciousness of any person living with a perpetual fear of
abandonment.
In
the book, I present these five strategies to counter that fear and
to cope with abandonment itself, through eliminating self-blame
and guilt while fostering self-realization.
The
first involves reducing the transfer of your negative emotional
energy in your platonic and romantic relationships. Allowing your
abandonment issues to become a negative factor in your
relationships only tills the soil for fear to gain a stronger hold
over your life.
The second is to
patch
your emotional potholes. Too many Strong Black Women have taken
the heat or the blame for failed or abandoned relationships. This
mindset is a fertile breeding ground for a guilt-ridden life.
Patching your emotional potholes frees you of the debilitating
impact of guilt and self-blame.
Next,
practice being still, and protect your sacred space. Women must
set new boundaries of wellness that promote time for reclamation
and self-realization.
Finally the fourth and fifth strategies
challenge the reader to address and resolve situations involving
both sisterly and self-abandonment.
We
hear so much today about the challenges affecting relationships
among black men and women—what do you have to say about these
relationships that hasn’t already been said?
Black
men in this culture are still in a lot of pain, and while black
women know this, I am not convinced that they know the best thing
to do about it. When she deals with black men, the Strong Black
Woman’s nurturing instinct kicks in, and before you know it, she
has disregarded (if not thrown away) her own self-care for the
sake of restoring these men. While this is a noble move, it can
send the wrong message to our black children—that for a woman,
taking care of men should take priority over taking care of
herself and loving herself and respecting herself as she deserves.
I heard countless versions of the “taking care of my man”
story while interviewing men and women for this book. Among my
interviewees, each case invariably ended with the Strong Black
Woman alone, unfulfilled, and bitter.
Strong
Black Women must break this vicious emotional cycle of
self-destruction by allowing men to create their own tools and
resources for healing. Women can best support men in their healing
by staying on the sidelines and cheering them on as they run their
own emotional races. Doing so will challenge black men to create a
greater sense of wholeness in their lives that isn’t based on
the domination, disrespect, or abuse of women. Consequently, black
women will be able to devote more of their energies to taking care
of themselves.
Doing
this means that women must have a better idea of what to do when
they meet a good man, and how to treat him (hint: do not
try to overnurture or control him), and what to do when they meet
a man who doesn’t measure up (steer clear). First though, black
women must know better how recognize the signs of a good man
(short answer: read the book!).
Another
topic you explore in the book is the mark that a Strong Black
Woman makes upon her family, particularly her children. What are
the consequences for Strong Black Mothers and their children,
especially their daughters, as this strength passes from one
generation to the next? What kind of personal experience are you
speaking from?
As
author and educator Jawanza Kunjufu once said, “Our mothers love
their sons and raise their daughters.” While both sons and
daughters carve out their core identities by observing their
parents, the Strong Black Woman archetype affects daughters more
powerfully as the model they are expected to follow. They’re
imprinted with both the positive and negative aspects, often in
ways they can’t understand until later in their lives. Breaking
free from the archetype is nearly impossible for some daughters.
The
archetype—the myth—of the Strong Black Woman is unique to the
black family; it drives all kinds of decisions that shape its
character. Usually, the Strong Black Woman figure in the family,
whether the mother, a grandmother, a big sister, or an aunt, sets
the life expectations and rules for all the other members of the
family, especially the young girls. They also create models of
behavior for young boys. For example, when boys reach manhood, the
early influence of the Strong Black Woman model can significantly
affect how they behave toward women.
Many
of the women I spoke to said that while they felt compelled to
live up to the example of a Strong Black Woman when they were
young, they were equally driven to resist and reject much of it as
they matured into adults. Rather than fighting the attribute of
strength itself, they were struggling to free themselves from the
guilt, denial, and self-sacrifice infused into this myth by
American history. However, many Strong Black Mothers and their
daughters have successfully developed honest, open, and supportive
relationships as adults. Through my interviews, I have identified
three key actions to assist in cultivating these healthy
relationships: listen with a loving ear; live and let live; and
develop compassion over blame. Of course, because of how crucial
these relationships can be in the overall happiness of a woman’s
life, I treat them in great detail in the book.
A
year before her passing, my mother had a near-death experience
that dramatically changed her outlook on life. A life-long Strong
Black Woman, she realized that she had to let go of the day-to-day
pain she dealt with every day for years in order to make peace
with her own life before it was too late. I learned from her that
to be truly happy in life, many risks would be necessary, and that
sometimes there are things that you must let go. Her influence as
a Strong Black Woman throughout my life has shaped the way I
behave toward others, especially women.
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