There’s a pressure that comes with being the only Black woman in the room. It’s a pressure that is not often talked about, or even known for that matter. Too often, being the only Black woman in the room is equated with such privilege, honor and opportunity, that the weight of it escapes most. It may even initially escape the woman who’s seemingly been granted a position of historical importance, or simply the chance at a peek into some of the rooms reserved for only a fortunate few.
Yet, the reality is what is often seen as an incredible opportunity also bears its weight in unspoken pressure and wrenching duty. The pressure to be worthy, to not just meet but exceed expectations, to set a standard against all standards. But most importantly, the pressure to not FAIL. Because failure is a privilege that is not bestowed upon the Black woman, especially when she stands somewhere, anywhere, as the “only one”, the first, the sole, lone representative of an entire race and gender now leaning over her head like a weighty Damocles sword threatening to fall and destroy her at any moment. It’s an indulgence that no carrier of legacy, especially a legacy as heavy, as costly, as fragile as the Black legacy, can afford.
As a Black woman, you don’t fail in order to learn. You learn in order not to fail. You understand that when you fail, you fail all those who came before you, and all those who are coming after you, looking to step through the same doors you just did. When you fail, it’s as if you denied the sacrifices made on your behalf by generations who could not walk your path. Now that is pressure, a pressure that some, consciously or unconsciously, block out of their already heavy minds, more out of a sense of self-preservation than a desire to shield themselves.
That’s not what we think about as we watch the glamorous photos of these women breaking barriers, going further than their peers have ever been, sitting at the table, building their own tables. We don’t think about the cost, the unfathomable cost, of being the only Black woman in the room…
There is no single way, no best antidote to dealing with it, to paying the high price of opportunity knocking at the Black woman’s door. As complex as the tapestry of humanity, filled with steep contrasts and flat similarities, is the conundrum of lone success for the Black woman. A mix of heightened gratitude and deep guilt. A wave of enthusiasm matched with high winds of discouragement. A proud sense of duty undercut by blades of sharp debt disguised as communal responsibility.
One cannot prepare to being the “only one” in the room. There is no amount of mental preparedness that can really get anyone ready to the level of responsibility and isolation that also come along. What there is, is the renew wed commitment to show up day after day, raising the already impossible bar to higher and higher levels.
What there is, is the will to outwork, outperform, and out-challenge, just in order to survive. The indomitable, often self-destructive, will to keep on going, despite all odds. It’s the same iron will that turns challenges into opportunities, small beginnings into gigantic endings, and lessons into massive improvement. It’s the will that creates diamonds from pressure, extracts precious oil from painful crushing, and leaves a bright trail for all to see..
“That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man – when I could get it – and bear the lash as well! And ain’t I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain’t I a woman?“
In the words of Sojourner Truth, known for her historical speech at an Ohio Women’s Rights Convention in 1851, what’s it really about being a Black woman? As I read her words, what does it really mean to stand at the intersection of being Black and female? What does it mean in the workplace, on the streets, at home? What does it mean to live in the body and the mind of a Black woman?
Being a Black woman means being at the intersection of race and gender. It also means being stuck in a professional and personal double bind, that of race and gender. The powerful, feared and harsh combination of two minority statuses rolled into the same individual and exposed for all to see, against the brutal misconceptions of society and oneself. It is the mix of negative messaging, insecurities and stereotypes channeled from one inequitable position to another, fused in a confusing cloud of misperception and misalignment. It is the conundrum of belonging in a partial way, which really is synonymous with not belonging at all. Stuck between a rock and a hard place…
As a woman, you feel like you are to join hands with all women. As a Black woman, you may be very well on your own, at tables where you may be the “only one”, in discussions where your voice may either sound like an empty echo or a gritting scream, or just a resounding silence… On paper, you may be deemed worthy, but in numbers, your value may be discounted. On paper, you may be read as “strong”, “invincible”,yet as the likes of powerful athlete Serena Williams and talented comedian and actress Leslie Jones, too “masculine-looking”. Or even as an “ape in heels”, as First Lady Michelle Obama was once insultingly portrayed.
Being at the intersection of anything also means residing at the periphery of everything. It’s an uncomfortable, trying place where one constantly has to prove their worth, even to themselves. A place of guilty, both conscious and unconscious, betrayal at the hands of oneself and society. A place where every step is on the lava floor of racial and gendered identity, and the pain, confusion and saving grace of growth that come with it…It’s a place no one really chooses to be in, for no one really picks the in-between, unless there is the threat of fire on both sides..
Being a Black woman is asking the question: “Ain’t I a woman?”, over and over again, at the meeting table, in the family conversations, in the mothering of our children, in the soothing of our own souls…It’s also getting multiple, sometimes conflicting answers to the same heartbreaking query, and often settling for only a fraction of the right ones. Settling for a fraction of the right salary…Settling for a fraction of the credit, a fraction of the peace, a fraction of the life…
Yet, navigating both realities of being woman and Black does not necessarily equate settling for the eternal dance between identities, codes and communities. One can take a stand and cut the pie in the middle. One can choose both, and have both. Yet, as for all progress, taking a stand, especially taking a middle, all-encompassing, stand comes at a price. It’s the price of embracing all of who we are, the multiple reflections of growth and evolution, as well as the entrenched images of self in a larger-than-life picture of what it truly means to be human. For being human is being a well of complexity, a receptacle of harsh contrasts and soft similarities, a deep pit of conflict and peace, of oneness and uniqueness. Being human is messy. And so is being a Black woman, at the intersection of race, gender and all of humanity…
It means letting of the lethal ideology of comfort and apparent belonging, to embrace the fearful uncertainty of the redeeming human difference. There is no comfort in progress and advancement. And isn’t that what we’re after, as a people, as a human race? Isn’t the fruit of struggle coming out of the seed of discomfort and difference? Neither is there belonging in the very concept of expansion, as an individual, as a society, as a world. Birth, from that of a human being to that of an organization, is synonymous with the very expansion that creates the same belonging that it negates later on through the necessity of emancipation and growth.
It means replacing the short-sightedness of immediate results, with the long vision of impact. How is our stance, at the corner of race and gender, creating the needed impact to open doors at all the levels we’re playing a role in? How is representation being increased, instead of limited and selective, by the sheer impact of our presence, the resonating weight of our voices, the long reach of our hands lifting and raising across lines of gender and race?
Last but not least, it ultimately means creating the support we need to serve those who don’t yet know they need it too. For it is when we recognize the needs of others, that we touch our own needs, minister to our own hearts, and heal our own wounds. Support is healing, and healing knows no boundaries. It expands across lines of identities and conceptions, to encompass the heart of humanity at the intersection of being human and being well,… human.
“Ain’t I a woman”, said Sojourner Truth. For at the intersection of race and gender, is the infinite view of what it means to be beautifully human, complex and boundary-breaking.
Dear Working Mom is our weekly love letter to working moms everywhere, where we talk about motherhood, life, work and everything in between…
Dear Working Mom,
You’ve been holding on for a long time now, doing your absolute best, going above and beyond for everyone else…except yourself! You’ve been maintaining this façade, however successfully, of the strong woman who’s got it…Just like you’ve been taught by generations of strong women before you, whose tears no one saw, who only got half the credit for their full work, who kept plowing through the challenges and still made it happen, whatever “it” was, from a holiday mean on a shoestring budget, to “magically” paying tuition and rent every month…
Yet, the reality is, you’re crumbling…You have been for some time, without letting anyone know, not even yourself. It’s been hard, at times unbearably hard, so hard you could not even find the tears to cry or the words to explain…Prayers and affirmations are not even comforting anymore, as you look through your phone for someone to call before finally resigning yourself to handle your business alone…
This whole time, you’ve not given yourself permission to fall apart. After all, ain’t nobody got time for that! You’ve got way too much on your plate, way too many people counting on you, and way too many people expecting you to fail…So you’ve been soldiering on, not allowing yourself to feel your feelings, explore your emotions, or simply take a break…You’ve bottled it all in, the pain, the exhaustion, the trauma, the incessant worries, in the name of stoic resilience and superhuman courage, at the cost of your own sanity and mental health…Yet, instead of making things better, it’s made it all so much worse…
You’ve been taught falling apart is a bad look. Admitting you’re vulnerable is a sign of weakness and incompetence. That women can and should do it all, at the same time, whatever the cost. Yet, what if it had been the wrong message all along? What if feeling the emotions, putting down the façade, and taking a breath were actually necessary? Not to stay there and wallow in self-pity, but to observe a pause, to allow yourself to fall apart so you can pick yourself back up and rebuild afterwards, instead of endlessly running on fumes?
In this season, give yourself permission to fall apart, to feel all the “feels”, to take a break, and replenish yourself before starting over again. Because it takes courage to open up and be vulnerable. It takes compassion, for oneself and for others, to share one’s struggles so others can see they’re not alone.
Because falling apart is not weak, it’s necessary, as long as you don’t stay there…
Being vulnerable is not “not handling your business”…
Seeking help and support is not being fragile, but showing strength and courage…
Give yourself permission to fall apart…and then get back up!
Typical morning! By the time you roll out of bed, your entire schedule is flashing before your eyes, from getting the kids’ breakfast ready to meeting every deadline for the day. For many, if not most working moms, this is done on a stand-alone basis, with limited, sometimes non-existent, help from their partners.
One of the recurring complaints I keep hearing from working moms through the COVID-19 pandemic is all around the added load and burden of caring for kids and the household, in addition to handling work responsibilities. However, while men have been participating more in household chores, they’ve still been able to achieve much more work than women. Overall, in the work-from-home revolution, women got left behind while the inequities in the home and at work keep being perpetuated. As a matter of fact, Motherly’s 2020 State of Motherhood Survey reveals mothers are in a critical state of burnout.
How realistic is it for a working woman and working mom to give her all in her career, when the brunt of the home responsibilities falls on her? How many jobs can a working mom do at once, especially during this pandemic, caring for children, elderly parents, the household, all the while breaking herself to keep being employed? What conversations must be had at home and in the workplace to not just assist working women and moms, but actually set them up for success? These are many questions hovering over the surface of the still gigantic gap separating women and men at work. Questions that will probably take a long time to answer, yet that we in the meantime can help address in the home with a few changes:
Have THE equity talk with your partner
This is a conversation that should actually be had before people commit to each other, and frequently thereafter:
How can we handle household responsibilities to preserve a sense of equity?
How can we help each other grow in our purpose?
What are the non-negotiables in terms of equity?
These are just some of the questions that can, and will pop up as you have THE talk.
Set ground rules and boundaries (and stick to them)
Life happens, habits set in, and it can be so easy for the lines between equity and non-equity in the household to be blurred. Hence the importance of setting ground rules and establishing clear boundaries…While each household functions differently, basic ground rules around the distribution of household chores and care is quite common..
Even more important to setting ground rules and boundaries, sticking to them is crucial. It’s one thing to establish a new family pattern, and another one to keep it consistent in the long-run.
Involve the kids
Why do my kids walk straight past their dad to come ask me for a snack and the meaning of life? The reality is, many of the patterns we find in our households, are also internalized and learnt by our kids. This is why it’s so important to involve the kids in equity discussions in the household, as these will teach them much and later impact the way they see gender equity in all areas of their lives.
This may also mean openly assigning various chores and responsibilities irrespective of gender (yes, boys can do dishes and cook while girls take the trash out). Establishing a household atmosphere where equity is the norm goes a long way…
All in all, gender equity starts at home, and has wide repercussions on work and society at large. Beginning the fight at home can make a world of difference…
In this episode, I’m discussing allyship, more specifically how to be an ally to Black women at work. From sponsorship and mentorship, to listening in and learning, allyship is a powerful way to make a difference and contribute to increased inclusiveness and diversity in the workplace.
Thanks for Listening!
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