Wednesday 08-12-2021 - 17:27

An unexpected epiphany, happened in between a shift and a toilet break, brought me the overwhelming resolution that, simply, I do not wish to be a strong black woman anymore. To be clear, I adore the ethnic roots and heritage I have been blessed with. It is the idea that this melanin is intrinsically connected with innate mental and emotional strength that I reject. For years, the unconscious indoctrination of this archetype has been silently suppressing raw, humane emotions without seeking any permission. The infant traces of a realistic character probably never had a chance to completely develop.

An American study exploring the internalization of the strong black woman schema, which is perpetuated through media channels and social surroundings, found out that this stereotypical persona is associated with negative psychological outcomes. In fact, black women are major victims of mental health issues that are worsened due to a dangerous combination of high maladaptive perfectionism and low self-compassion. They become icons for others whilst ignoring their own brokenness and this is not done voluntarily, it is encompassed into their identity as if it belongs there. As if without it, they lose the very essence of their existence and their role in the wider community. According to author Regina Romero, as much as it may give the illusion of control, it keeps them away from identifying what they need and reaching out for help.

When reflecting on how I lived life until now, there is uncertainty surrounding when exactly I unknowingly embraced the status symbol of a strong black woman. Then, I am reminded of the times when a fall would bruise me harshly, but I would still stand up, showing off a smile that I so deeply charmed myself to believe was genuine. ‘You have to be strong,’ I chanted, ‘You just have to be strong, there is no other option.’ But no matter how hard I told myself to move on, wounds hurt the same, blood looked red. It was still painful. Depression and anxiety should not have been a problem for me, then why was it happening? Truly, I was terrified by my own vulnerability. If I allow a crack open on this ghostly armour of supernatural strength I built up, shame will eat me up alive.

Out of curiosity, I searched on the NHS website and noticed that the ratio of black people detained under the Mental Health Act 1983 in the last year by population is the highest out of any other ethnicity in the UK. I am not the only one that might be pretending.

When writer and actress Amanda Wright featured on a BBC video piece three years ago, talking about the difficulties of preserving the mask of a strong black woman, I laughed and took it all as a joke. I thought, ‘She’s complaining just because she’s not strong enough.’ Now I find myself in her shoes and they fit so well that I am losing breath. Re-watched the video countless times and her words continue to spiral into my brain nonstop. When depression hit her, she was shocked to recognise that it was nothing out of order, that it had been there hiding in the dark all along. Truth is that black women between 16 and 34 are more prone to self-harm than their white counterparts according to the University of Cambridge. Yet, the statistics and social media showcase contradicting realities. No one would believe that underneath that confident walk, smart talk and independent character there would be lying a fragile spirit with unhealed scars. Most of us are made of scars.

Sometimes I want to retreat back in the womb of my mother, but then I stop and become conscious of the heartbreaking fact that it was a strong black woman that gave birth to me. Not one of those on Instagram, but the ones who hide within a traumatised heart. From a strong black woman to another, like a generational curse, a haunted circle. 

 Us, the ones that just want to be women, do not have many representatives on the mainstream stage. We are swallowed by entertainment gurus, bold media personalities and memes. At the end, life is about the survival of the fittest, is it not?

Nevertheless, I want to seek freedom and liberate myself from this immense burden. I understand that this self-defence mechanism has been instilled in us in order to survive in an unfriendly and unfamiliar environment. For my ancestors who demonstrated incredible strength and had to cope with abuse whilst maintaining composure, I feel both apologetic and grateful. Now, I want to be petty, I want to cry, I want to feel. I wish to display all the irrational, complicated and real emotions that they never had a chance to show.  

Let us walk the path that their sweat, tears and blood paved, fully true to ourselves, withholding back nothing.

Chris Opoku

Ethnic Diversity Officer

 

This blog is published in conjunction with 16 Days of Activism and THE EDIT