“Strong?”….. “Angry?” – Battle-tested badges of honor!

 
“Envelope pushers” are a rare breed. They show up from time to time in every field of human endeavor, including writers. If ever there exists a prime example of a daring “envelope pusher,” well William Spivey fits the bill. Then some.

Spivey has his own history channel and writes a lot about race. Nary a day goes by without him pushing writing limits by putting forth thoughts some view as radical and risky.

Now like Spivey, and as a Black man myself and son, husband and sister of a Black woman, Spivey’s recent piece, “Even A Strong Black Woman Feels Tired Sometimes,” got my undivided attention for reasons, among them, the perception (no, strike that, the fact) that high profile Black women have historically been under attack (Do the names Rosa Parks, Fannie Lou Hamer, or Kamala Harris today ring a familiar bell with you?) Here’s Spivey’s piece in its entirety:

If we are lucky, we know or have known strong Black women who can always be counted on when things get tough. What we fail to realize is that it always is an awfully long time and that depending on that strong Black woman can be draining because it so often results in them putting others before themselves. It would be nice to think she “she don’t feel tired” but even the best of them have their days.

Strong Black women are under assault; they are exempt from none of the forces systemically aligned against Black people and have also assumed the responsibility of standing up for their children, their mates, their brothers, and sisters, whether family or not and have even extended themselves to other causes where the absence of justice and equality and rights threatens not just some but all.

It is easy sometimes to sit back and rely on the strong Black woman to fight the good fight, reaping the windfall of their efforts while doing little of the work. We rail against the slaughter of Black men, but with Black women, somehow not so much. We participate in judging and body shaming and trying to control what we ought not. Our images sometimes depend on the woman being somewhere beneath us rather than at our side. It is no wonder that she feels tired sometimes.

To the strong Black woman, I would ask her to remember the good she has done and the lives that have benefitted from her presence. I would also ask her to deploy her own airbag before attempting to help others because if you lose consciousness, you’re no more help. Feed yourself also, if not first, and look within and to your faith for strength because people are somewhat unreliable. Know your worth and use some of that strength to insist others respect it. Know when to cut your losses because situations, relationships, and causes may not be intended for more than a season.

To those who know a strong Black woman, support her, assist her, and make her welfare a concern because she may be so busy being strong that she doesn’t take care of herself as she should. Most of all, I appreciate her. It will go a long way toward giving her the strength to keep doing what we all need her to do. Love her unselfishly, recognizing that she is supporting not only you but a whole universe of people with needs. If she has chosen you, your time together will be cherished because she’s that kind of woman. And when she needs it, let her rest because even she gets tired sometimes.”

Now it’s intellectually dishonest how society has conflated the words “strong” and “angry” when characterizing Black women who dare to assert themselves. Separating the two words, the “angry Black Woman” stereotype presumes that when Black women express their feelings or dare to have an opinion, they’re often labeled as “angry.” And if they suppress their true feelings, they get tagged as passive, and not to be taken seriously.    

Okay, since I reacted to Spivey’s piece through the perspective of a Black male, it made sense to get an opinion on it from “Sheila,” a brilliant Black woman who knows a thing or two about the gist of what we’re talking about here.