Guest blog by: Nikki Coco
'Strong Black Woman' is a badge of honor that we have been wearing for too long. If we are to be completely honest about the
reasons as to why many Black women are good at hiding their softness, let’s
remember the onslaught of reality television shows that people rely on to
provide us with a snapshot of segments of the society at large. Quite plainly,
it’s easy to create a picture, when you’ve been privy to only one side of a
given story for so long.
Alas, not all Black women were created
equal: meaning some are able to withstand more triumph than others -- with some
not being very emotionally strong at all underneath the layers. Now, while the
media would have us believe that most, if not all Black women are brazen, brash
and bawdy, thanks to a smorgasbord of shows like RHOA, Basketball Wives and Love
and Hip Hop – all aligning so well for the purpose of transmitting the
message by way of the likes of the Nene Leakes of the world -- the idea that
tyrant, despot and Black woman are one and the same, at some point we’ve gotta
be conscionable enough to say, “I’m just not buying what you’re selling.” Somewhere
amidst being caught up in the hype, illusion and fanfare we forgot that when we
are with the ones who can welcome our demonstrations of love and nurturing with
an air of appreciation and acceptance – we too enjoy interludes of coddling,
sappiness, and gleefully emoting…if ever we were granted an opportunity to be
able to do so, without accusations of playing a part suited for someone else.
There comes a time when we must put a
stoppage to it all and come to the realization that vulnerability is indeed
beautiful. The problem with Black women with respect to vulnerability is that
it has never been deemed permissible, nor has it been expected throughout our
collective history. How on God’s green Earth are we expected to be vulnerable
when we have a slew of people waiting on us to be clothed, fed and nurtured at
any given time? In order for Black women to begin to feel more comfortable
enough to reveal their vulnerability, we have to allow the space enough for
them to be able to so do.
The beauty of vulnerability lies in the
idea that we all naturally fold at the point of exhaustion. Even more, it
requires ample strength in character to willingly display authenticity and do
away with the façade that is entwined with the staid image of the
inexhaustible, dynamic, Energizer Bunny that is the dominant perception that
has been built around Black women. Nobody is going to believe us when we
consistently say that everything is fine and dandy or that we are strong and
tough enough to handle things on our own.
I believe it remains important to iterate
that it’s well beyond the time for Black women to tear down their layered
fortresses and hop along the self-love, self-help bandwagon that all the world
has increasingly embarked upon. A while back, I was perusing Facebook when I
was serendipitously met with the following quote via a friend’s timeline:
“Silence doesn’t always mean ‘yes.’ Sometimes it means I’m tired of explaining
to people who don’t care to understand.”
While it is true that some women speak up
about their respective experiences, in ways that sometimes place them in
vulnerable positions – often they’re confiding in people who actually don’t
care. A key message I would offer to women who have been silencing their load
is: be mindful of who you confide in and around whom you let your guard down.
The uncanny mind reader in most women knows just who to confide in and around
whom to keep their lips sealed. As women it has been duly noted that we have
been blessed with extra-sensory, intuitive abilities to be able to discern many
a situation quite accurately. When in doubt, trust in it. The key is being
vulnerable with the right people, at the right time.
Nikki is an educator and
writer, whose musings cover a broad range of topics incuding but, not limited
to: politics, love, education and cultural criticism. You can follow her on
Twitter @artculturemusic.
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