Often, as Black women, we find ourselves wearing many hats and juggling numerous roles. We’re taught that we must excel as homemakers, students, employees, bosses, mothers, wives, sisters, friends, and family members—all while maintaining our fabulousness. This expectation, to be superhuman, has been deeply ingrained in our culture. Unlike women from other backgrounds, we’re often pressured to shoulder these responsibilities without seeking assistance. In some of our communities, seeking paid help, such as a nanny or housekeeper, has been viewed as “boujee,” and our “Black card” has been questioned.

Stereotypes and Pressures:

Society has often depicted Black women as strong and capable, while women of other races are sometimes portrayed as delicate and in need of support. In some cases, we’ve even found ourselves coddling women from other backgrounds, perpetuating this narrative.

The Burden of Self-Reliance:

As Black women, we’ve been conditioned to believe that needing help makes us a burden or somehow less than. Phrases like “Don’t worry, I can take care of it” or “Don’t worry about me, I am ok” roll off our tongues effortlessly. This constant self-sacrifice can lead to exhaustion and burnout, unfairly labeling us as “angry Black women.”

My Personal Experience:

Growing up as a Black girl in Brooklyn, with two Jamaican parents, I was raised to believe that I had to do it all. To be successful, I needed to excel as a homemaker, boss, mother, wife, and financial provider, all while maintaining my appearance and being a source of peace and stability for my family.

However, during my first year as a mother and a wife, I nearly drove myself to the brink. I was in college, interning, caring for a newborn, adjusting to married life, and trying to regain my pre-pregnancy body. It was overwhelming. I found myself constantly comparing my efforts to those of my mother, leading to self-doubt and unrealistic expectations.

Self-Compassion and Realization:

One day, I realized that my mother and I had 2 very different lives. She was a homemaker and didn’t have to work or attend school while raising us. This clarity allowed me to be more patient and kind to myself. My parents had raised me to aspire to more, to value education. Unfortunately, they passed away before I became a mother, leaving me to rely on my spouse, sisterhood and family for support.

Learning to Ask for Help:

Through this experience, I learned to ask for and receive help. It became okay to send my baby to daycare, even on the days I was home, just so that I could take care of myself. Hiring a cleaning service was acceptable, and it didn’t diminish my identity as a Black woman. Having a supportive husband further reinforced the idea that I didn’t have to do it all alone. I could take off my superhero cape and embrace a softer, more balanced life.

Embracing Self-Love:

I realized that my worth as a Black woman isn’t determined by how much I can accomplish or endure. I desired a softer life with self-care and luxuries, just like any other woman, and that didn’t make me any less Black. I can achieve anything I set my mind to, but I’ve learned that I don’t have to do it all by myself. Seeking help only enhances my value.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, being a Black woman is a remarkable journey. Embracing self-love, letting go of unrealistic expectations, and asking for help are vital steps on this journey. It’s time to redefine the narrative and prioritize self-care, self-compassion, and self-acceptance, for they are the keys to living our fullest, most authentic lives.