Black Women

There is something special about Black mothers. Looking back at slavery, we have had our bodies taken by the white slave masters while forcing our Black men to stand by helplessly and watch. We have mothered our children and that of our oppressors. We have taken care of everyone’s children, literally. We nurture, we care for, we provide, we work, we discipline, we struggle, we make a dollar out of 15cents, we suffer silently through sexual, mental, and emotional abuse. We are mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, cousins, godmoms, adopted moms, best friends, and so much more. And still, we rise! I cannot speak for another race or ethnicity. I can only talk about mine. It is not my intent to take anything away from anyone else’s fight, but I will always acknowledge ours. I am a Black woman. It can, at times, be hard to hold that title and all that comes with it. It is difficult to maneuver a world that offers no love to us. Sometimes the lack of respect comes primarily from other Black women and, more often than not, our Black men.

I always wondered why we are so hated? But others try so hard to mimic the very species they hate. How can you be racist, but tan your entire body to resemble the natural melanin in our skin? How do you get braided hairstyles when you make us cut our locs, natural afros, and hair claiming it to be unprofessional looking? How is it that everything that we’re blessed with naturally is hoarded by other races? It amazes me to think that we are so hated but so duplicated.

What makes me the saddest is the Black on Black hate that is so prevalent amongst us. We have been inbred to believe it is necessary to compete for everything. That you will lessen your success if you offer a helping hand to your sister. That you must dim, another’s light for your light to shine bright. It bothers me to see the contention amongst one another. If only we recognized that the power that lies within us is an excellent source that benefits us as a whole. What if we harnessed that selfish energy to build a united front, a consortium, a sisterhood that no one could break? Wouldn’t that be something to see? I cannot place everyone in the same pot, but I can make observations and bring us to a knowledge of said behaviors to bring us closer as a womanhood.

We bring young kings into the world who grow up to hate the women who carried them, birthed them, raised them, taught them, and turn to women from other races to love, respect, marry, have a family with, and build together. Dear Black men, please practice loving, respecting, and protecting your Black women. One thing I’ll say is Black women will stand in front of, block, and place herself in harm’s way to protect the Black man…if only that were reciprocated! I am so full of things that my mind is on overload. Therefore, I will leave the words of a famous song by a Black King and rapper who was murdered “Tupac” that seems to align with my thoughts tonight. “Keep Ya Head UP!”

Some of the lyrics:

And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it’s time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies, that make the babies
And since a man can’t make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you’re fed up ladies, but keep your head up

Aiyyo, I remember Marvin Gaye, used to sing to me
He had me feelin’ like black was tha thing to be
And suddenly tha ghetto didn’t seem so tough
And though we had it rough, we always had enough
I huffed and puffed about my curfew and broke the rules
Ran with the local crew, and had a smoke or two
And I realize momma really paid the price
She nearly gave her life, to raise me right

You know it’s funny when it rains it pours
They got money for wars, but can’t feed the poor
Said it ain’t no hope for the youth and the truth is
It ain’t no hope for the future
And then they wonder why we crazy
I blame my mother, for turning my brother into a crack baby
We ain’t meant to survive, ’cause it’s a setup
And even though you’re fed up
Huh, ya got to keep your head up

If, for some reason my words have made you feel uncomfortable, well then, welcome to my world.

Until Next Time,


Published by ShesThatRN

I am an RN working on my DNP, preparing to launch several aspects of my new business and writing and getting ready to publish my first book. I love to write so blogging seemed like a great way to naturally express myself and publish my journey as a nurse.

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