When Strength is Dying?
“If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.” - Zora Neale Hurston
Considering the recent election season, I decided to revisit the contributions of Black activists to the Voting Rights movement. I wanted to acquire more knowledge, awareness and education surrounding the history, the fight, the resiliency of those who have gone before us. And I found myself enamored with the life of the late Fannie Lou Hamer, most famously known for being a civil rights leader, voting right’s advocate and for emphatically uttering: “I am sick and tired of being sick and tired!”
I was intrigued to learn that while she impacted the Voting rights movement and is renowned for her courage, intellect, and boldness, she did not begin her mission of advocacy until her mid-forties; after learning that Black Americans could not register to vote. And while Mrs. Hamer’s immeasurable contributions facilitated shifting racial inequality in the South and indelibly left a lasting impact upon the empowerment of marginalized communities; her personal life, physical health and wellbeing unfortunately did not bear that same fruit. And what is often understated and not widely known about the life and journey of Mrs. Hamer is both the great sorrow she endured and the burdensome cost she paid, including the loss of a child and her later years being plagued by health challenges.
You see, Mrs. Hamer’s life mirrors the circumstances of so many great Black women who worked tirelessly for great movements and often without acknowledgement nor recognition nor tangible reward, yet more tragically their lives ended prematurely due to the cumulative effects of micro stressors, health inequality, socioeconomic barriers, health illiteracy and self-neglect.
Before pursuing nursing, I majored in Sociology and took many courses that studied human behavior, human interaction, and social problems. Moreover, those courses analyzed topics such as race and ethnicity, gender, aging, religion, education, social movements, and social stratification---at both the macro level and micro level. As a result of exposure to these courses, both my awareness and curiosity were increased regarding the intersectionality of race, gender and the accompanying societal inequalities that exist within certain groups, more specifically marginalized communities.
And through analytical research, it is my belief that the duality of being a minority within both the race and gender stratification may present unique challenges that are often either disregarded, overlooked and even sadly, normalized.
As Ice Cube so profoundly stated at the end of Boyz in the Hood: “either they don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood.”
But what happens when a stigma is perpetuated for generations that is perceived to be complementary of a group of people, but it is potentially and covertly contributing to discrimination, marginalization, adverse outcomes, and even unfortunately death.
Dr. Yvette Cozier, an epidemiologist and investigator who provides research on the Black Women’s Health Study (BWHS), wrote an editorial earlier this year entitled “The Strong Black Woman” as a contribution to the Black History Month theme that focused on “the importance of Black Health and Wellness.” Throughout the editorial, Dr. Cozier examined the “Strong Black Woman” stigma and the accompanying realities and challenges surrounding the health of Black women. Moreover, Dr. Cozier highlights in the editorial that “In the US, Black women have higher morbidity and mortality rates than White women for almost every major health condition.”
As a Black woman, reading that statement was both alarming and disheartening, however it was definitely not surprising. And I certainly agree with Dr. Cozier assertions that the statement does not offer much in explaining the complexities of “Black women’s lived experiences” nor does it delve into the often underemphasized, under examined, haphazardly silenced concerns, and even ignored causative factors.
Indeed, it is perplexing to me that the “Strong Black Woman '' stigma was touted as a badge of honor for generations---certainly not because I believe Black women to be weak nor inferior nor of diminished value. Black women possess an allure, strength, tenacity, and strength that has both stabilized and anchored generations upon generations. But as my therapist once stated: two things can be true at once. And the “Strong Black Woman” pronunciation was utilized as a discriminatory tool to subjugate the femininity of Black women, to perpetuate systemic biases, to justify inequitable economic opportunities, and to propagate inadequate access to quality healthcare.
Again, “In the US, Black women have higher morbidity and mortality rates than White women for almost every major health condition.”
This indicates that Black women have higher prevalence and are disproportionately affected by health problems such as: maternal mortality and morbidity including giving birth to premature and low birth weight infants, heart disease, hypertension, HIV (Human Immunodeficiency Virus) infections, diabetes, obesity, mental health disorders, intimate partner violence incidents and homicide.
That begs to ask the question: How could dying be promoted, misperceived and/or misrepresented as strength?
While the public health crises Black women are facing are gradually being highlighted with hashtags such as #SayHerName, documentaries, and courageous social posts that all continue to increase awareness and demand accountability, Black women are still dying at a disturbing rate. The disadvantageous barriers and systemic discriminatory practices that plagued Black women go beyond surface level conversations that often result in “victim blaming” and detrimental assumptions that Black women can subdue and endure great levels of stress.
Considering Black women are often the primary breadwinner and caregiver, there is often a lack of emphasis on the promotion of health literacy, preventive healthcare management, and encouragement of self-care as a priority and not a luxury. And this could be attributed to the notion of “pushing through suffering,” lack of knowledge of concerning symptoms to report, lack of affordability of insurance, time constraints, and provider mistrust and racial/gender prejudice.
And this is where efforts should be concentrated.
Starting with undoing the stigmatization of Black women’s misperceived strength, dismantling of systemic and structural attitudes and barriers that strategically restrain upward mobility, elimination of racial and inequitable barriers and the initiation of measurable implementations to increase health literacy—from adolescence to older age.
Moreover, the true strength of Black women lies within the revolutionary work that occurs internally by actively, unashamedly, and courageously tending to the silent wars, traumas, and scars that wage within us. Because it is only then that we can show up as the best version of ourselves to our partners, children, professions, and our local community—and it will be nourishing and not self-depleting.
Lastly, in the words of the late great literary giant, Toni Morrison, remember:
“You Your Best Thing. You are.”
Sources:
Green, S. (2020, August 20). Violence against black women – many types, far-reaching effects. IWPR. Retrieved November 30, 2022, from https://iwpr.org/iwpr-issues/race-ethnicity-gender-and-economy/violence-against-black-women-many-types-far-reaching-effects/%C2%A0
Health equity among black women in the United States. Retrieved December 1, 2022, from https://www.liebertpub.com/doi/10.1089/jwh.2020.8868
The Strong Black Woman: Dr. Yvette Cozier. Womens Guild The Strong Black Woman Dr Yvette Cozier Comments. Retrieved November 30, 2022, from https://www.bu.edu/womensguild/2022/02/07/the-strong-black-woman-dr-yvette-cozier/#references
Early, R., Lifson, A., Lucey, D. M., & Jones, M. S. (n.d.). "The sweat and blood of fannie lou hamer". The National Endowment for the Humanities. Retrieved November 30, 2022, from https://www.neh.gov/article/sweat-and-blood-fannie-lou-hamer
