The Strong Black Woman™ Brand That's Killing Us
Let's talk about the brand that's been marketed to us since birth.
The one that's supposed to be a compliment but feels like a cage. The one that makes us smile and say "thank you" while we're slowly dying inside.
The Strong Black Woman.
You know her. She's invincible. She handles everything. She never complains. She doesn't need help. She's "naturally resilient." She always bounces back. She thrives under pressure that would crush anyone else.
Here's what they don't tell you about this brand: it's killing us. Literally.
Not metaphorically. Not dramatically.
Literally killing us through stress-induced illness, chronic exhaustion, and the spiritual violence of never being allowed to be human.
The Marketing Campaign Nobody Asked For.
This brand was never our creation.
It was designed by a society that needed us to be superhuman so they didn't have to be human toward us.
Think about it:
When they call you "strong," they're really saying: I don't have to support you.
When they call you "resilient," they're really saying: I can keep breaking you and you'll fix yourself.
When they call you "capable," they're really saying: I can pile more on your plate because you can handle it.
The Strong Black Woman brand is not a celebration of our strength.
It's a justification for their neglect.
It's the most successful marketing campaign in history because it convinced us to buy into our own exploitation while calling it empowerment.
Who Profits from This Brand?
Employers profit when they can overwork us without guilt because we're "naturally good at handling stress."
Healthcare systems profit when they can dismiss our pain because we "look strong" and must be exaggerating.
Partners profit when they can lean on us emotionally without reciprocity because we're "the strong one" in the relationship.
Families profit when they can make us the unpaid emotional labor manager because we're "so good at keeping everyone together."
Society profits when they can ignore systemic inequality because we "always find a way to overcome."
But who pays the price?
We do.
With our bodies.
Our minds. Our spirits. Our lives.
The Real Cost of This Brand
Let's be honest about what "being strong" has actually cost us:
Our Bodies:
Hypertension, diabetes, and heart disease at disproportionate rates. Chronic pain dismissed by doctors who think we're "drug-seeking." Stress-induced illnesses that we ignore because we "don't have time to be sick." Premature aging from carrying stress that was never ours to carry.
Our Mental Health:
Depression masked as "just being tired." Anxiety normalized as "caring too much." Burnout rebranded as "just needing a vacation." Suicidal ideation that we can't voice because strong women don't break.
Our Relationships:
Partners who expect us to be their therapist but never ask how we're doing. Friendships where we're always the giver, never the receiver. Children who see us as indestructible instead of human. Families who call us only when they need something fixed.
Our Dreams:
Goals sacrificed because everyone else's needs come first. Creativity suffocated under the weight of responsibility. Passions abandoned because "strong women put others first." Rest positioned as selfishness instead of necessity.
The Mythology That Traps Us
Myth 1: "Black women are naturally strong."
Truth: We were forced to develop strength as a survival mechanism. There's nothing "natural" about children raising themselves while their mothers worked multiple jobs. Nothing "natural" about enduring systemic violence with a smile.
Myth 2: "Strong women don't need help."
Truth: Everyone needs help. The difference is, we've been conditioned to believe asking for help is weakness, so we suffer in silence while everyone else gets support.
Myth 3: "You should be grateful for being seen as strong."
Truth: Being seen as strong means being seen as less human. It means your pain doesn't matter. Your exhaustion doesn't count. Your breakdown doesn't warrant concern.
Myth 4: "Strong women inspire others."
Truth: Performing strength while drowning inside doesn't inspire—it perpetuates harmful cycles. It teaches other women that their humanity is conditional on their ability to endure.
How This Brand Shows Up in Real Life
At Work:
You get assigned extra projects because "you can handle it"
Your ideas are stolen and credited to others, but you're expected to just "be gracious"
You're passed over for promotions but told you're "invaluable where you are"
You're the unofficial therapist for stressed colleagues
Your workplace trauma is minimized because you "always bounce back"
In Healthcare:
Your pain is rated lower because you "look strong"
Your symptoms are dismissed as stress-related
You're labeled "difficult" when you advocate for yourself
Your mental health concerns are minimized
You receive less pain medication than white patients with identical conditions
In Relationships:
You're the emotional caretaker for everyone around you
Your partner expects you to handle all the "hard stuff"
You can't have bad days because everyone depends on your strength
Your vulnerability is met with surprise instead of support
You're expected to "forgive and move on" from trauma that would devastate others
In Family:
You're the go-to person for every crisis
Your own problems are minimized compared to everyone else's
You fund family emergencies but no one asks if you're financially struggling
You're the unpaid event planner, mediator, and caretaker
Your boundaries are seen as abandonment
The Spiritual Violence of Never Being Soft
This brand demands that we amputate our humanity.
It tells us that our tears are weakness.
That our exhaustion is failure.
That our need for support is selfishness.
But what happens to a human being who's never allowed to be human?
We become efficient. We become productive. We become useful.
We also become empty. Disconnected. Spiritually starved.
The Strong Black Woman brand doesn't just harm our bodies—it disconnects us from our souls.
From our intuition. From our capacity for joy, rest, and receiving love.
We become human doings instead of human beings.
Why We Keep Buying This Brand
Because we were raised on it.
From childhood, we were rewarded for being "little adults." For taking care of siblings while our mothers worked.
For mediating family conflicts. For excelling in school despite impossible circumstances.
Because it feels safer than vulnerability.
In a world that punishes Black women for having needs, strength feels like protection.
If we don't need anything, we can't be disappointed. If we handle everything ourselves, we can't be let down.
Because we've been gaslit into believing it's empowerment.
We've been told that this brand represents our power, our resilience, our beauty. We've been convinced that dismantling it would make us weak.
But here's the truth: The strongest thing you can do is refuse to be strong for people who refuse to be human toward you.
What Happens When We Reject This Brand
When Black women stop performing strength:
We start asking for what we need
We stop accepting unacceptable treatment
We demand reciprocity in relationships
We prioritize our wellbeing over others' comfort
We set boundaries that protect our energy
We seek support when we're struggling
We rest without guilt
We feel our feelings without shame
And systems that depend on our depletion start to panic.
Suddenly, employers have to actually support their employees.
Partners have to show up emotionally.
Healthcare providers have to take our pain seriously.
Families have to distribute labor equitably.
This is why they fight so hard to keep us wearing this brand.
Our humanity threatens their comfort.
Redefining Strength on Our Terms
Real strength isn't the ability to endure endless suffering.
Real strength is knowing when to say no.
Real strength is asking for help when you need it.
Real strength is choosing yourself even when it disappoints others.
Real strength is feeling your feelings instead of performing invincibility.
Real strength is setting boundaries that protect your peace.
Real strength is refusing to carry what was never yours to begin with.
The Strong Black Woman brand wants us to believe that our value lies in our ability to absorb pain without breaking.
But what if our value lies in our ability to be beautifully, authentically, vulnerably human?
The Courage to Be Human
I'm not asking you to become weak. I'm asking you to become free.
Free from the expectation that you should be superhuman.
Free from the belief that your needs don't matter.
Free from the conditioning that your worth is measured by your output.
Free from the brand that was designed to exploit your goodness while calling it empowerment.
You are not a brand.
You are a human being.
You deserve support.
You deserve care.
You deserve to have bad days.
You deserve to need help.
You deserve to be soft sometimes.
You deserve to exist without constantly proving your worth through your ability to endure.
If This Truth Resonates, You're Not Alone
If these words landed in your chest like recognition, it's because something in you is ready to shed this harmful brand and remember your humanity.
I lived this brand too. I performed strength while my spirit withered. I said "I'm fine" so many times I forgot what I actually felt. I built Beneath the Bloom for the woman who's ready to stop performing and start being.
🌀 This Time, I Choose Me - A guided journal for laying down the armor and coming home to yourself.
Preorders open July 15. When you're ready, it will be waiting.
🌀 Sister Circles - Where your softness is sacred, not questioned.
🌀 1:1 Bloomkeeper Sessions - If you're ready to redefine strength on your own terms.
🌀 Nirvana by BTB - Spiritual tools and sacred objects to anchor your journey home to yourself.
🌀 A retreat where your body remembers it was never built for performance.
You don't have to earn rest.
You don't have to prove your worth.
You don't have to be strong for everyone else's comfort.
You just have to be human. And that's enough.
The Strong Black Woman brand has been killing us for generations. It's time to declare it dead.
Not because we're giving up our strength, but because we're reclaiming our humanity.
And when we do, we don't just save ourselves.
We save every Black girl watching us, learning that she doesn't have to break herself to be worthy of love.
"The revolution isn't learning to be stronger. The revolution is choosing our humanity over their comfort—every single time."
