“You’re a strong (black) woman.” Historically, many black men have used this statement as a method to express support, even reverence for black women. Generally, the context is a sympathetic response to a black woman who has endured tumultuous circumstance and still manages to smile in the face of the adversity du jour. So why would I dare surrender the phrasing? Keep reading.
Many of us have been guilty of placating black women by avoiding some very real issues. Not all but many, and in most cases it materializes as an innocent oversight—an otherwise harmless ignorance. A perpetuation of what we, ourselves, have been conditioned to think. When our colleague is passed over for a promotion, for the third time, we’ve offered, “but you’re strong” as a form of support. When a friend on Facebook complains about constant street harassment, we’ve offered, “but you’re strong” to show empathy.
But what if calling women “strong” is our way of throwing a thin blanket over hyperthermia or a Band-Aid to cover lacerations caused by male privilege? As much as we try, we don’t always understand the plight of black women—their struggles, their unique experiences battling unfathomable circumstances. But it seems offering a hollow, “but you’re strong” whenever they’re in the midst of struggle, can muffle our ability to lend support in a more meaningful way.
Labeling black women as strong is a one size fits all jacket we keep in the closet. The one that doesn’t really go with anything but we always find ourselves wearing it because it’s comfortable. It’s not only unfair, the argument can be made that it’s borderline dismissive. There’s more to women than strength.
What else do we see when we look at a single mother of three who works full time and still finds time to go back to school? A cancer survivor? A wife to an enlisted soldier? Strength is easy. What about resourcefulness? Courage? Vulnerability? Calling women “strong” as a default response is an admonishment to their humanity. It’s the easy way out and no further work is necessary. We don’t have to take the time to probe, to assess, to help.
Have you ever said to yourself, “She’s strong—I know she can take care of it?” Doesn’t matter who “she” is, what matters is, you left her no choice. You may not have offered aid.
Are black women, strong? Absolutely, but the next time we think about calling any black woman “strong,” let’s consider the implications and challenge ourselves to find alternative methods of showing support. Let’s listen more and make more of an effort to understand that while we may not have a “fix” for every situation or problem, actions do speak much louder than words.
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André George is a Lifestyle Writer and Brand Strategist with offices in Atlanta. Follow him on Twitter/Instagram/Tumblr @TheAndreGeorge