As I sit at my home office desk
and breathing in the cool fall air from my open windows, I should feel accomplished. And I do. But I also feel the familiar tension in my shoulders, the weight that comes from being a Black woman in leadership. Leading at home. Leading at work. Leading in the community. Leading at church. Leading literally everywhere we go. And we are often - far too often - leading in many of these spaces alone. If you're a Black woman in leadership, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Being a Black woman is one of the most beautiful existences in the world. I love it more than anything. Our hair stands in a class of its own. We are vibrant and melodious. Our skin glows and radiates light. We have style and an essence that turns heads and grabs attention. Yes, being a Black woman is a beautiful existence, but that’s not all it is. Recent studies from the Lean In Foundation, McKinsey & Company's Women in the Workplace reports, the American Psychological Association, and the National Institute of Health provide another picture of Black womanhood:
80% of Black women report feeling they have to work harder than colleagues to prove their worth
Black women are more likely to experience burnout, with 42% reporting feeling burned out often or almost always
54% of Black women report being often "the only" or one of the few people of their race/ethnicity in their workplace
Black women are 60% more likely to experience high blood pressure than their white counterparts, with workplace stress being a significant contributor
Black women experience "weathering" - premature aging due to chronic stress exposure
Black women report higher levels of sleep disruption (30% higher than white women) linked to work-related stress
Nearly 50% of Black women report experiencing workplace racism or discrimination
Black women are less likely to seek mental health support, with only about 1 in 3 who need mental health care receiving it
29% of Black women report feeling like they can't discuss the impact of current events on their mental health at work
Only 4% of C-suite positions are held by women of color
75% of Black women report being the only Black person in senior leadership meetings
Black women leaders are 2x more likely to report having their judgment questioned in their area of expertise
Black women report experiencing the "emotional tax" of being on guard against bias and discrimination
61% of Black women report experiencing microaggressions at work
Black women are more likely to be both primary breadwinners and caregivers, adding additional layers of stress
Y’all. That's a lot.
We are legit the heavyweight champions of the world. We are both called and gifted - maybe unfairly so - to shift hard things, to carry heavy things, to fix broken things, and to create beautiful things. And we do it in a way that really only we can do. But that comes at a cost. We carry not just our workload, but the invisible burden of representation, and as the data above confirms, the beautiful blessing of Black womanhood is inextricably linked to the burden of the same. We navigate microaggressions with grace, mentor others while fighting our own battles, and maintain composure when we'd rather scream.
And no Black woman is exempt. Just last night, I heard a commentator - a woman…a white woman - on CNN last night speak of Vice President Harris seeming “angry” these days and critically opining on her tone and recent word choice. Even the Vice President of the United States of America, known for her palpable joy, infectious laughter, and unparalleled genius, can’t escape the angry Black woman trope as she seeks to enter the highest office of the land. Can we just sit with that for a minute? “She seems so angry these days.”
We are constantly fighting being dubbed either “angry Black woman” or the "strong Black woman.” Sometimes both at the same time. But never just “the Black woman” - which is a powerful and beautiful identity on its own. Maybe that’s the problem. Too powerful for some. Too beautiful for others.
These competing critical perceptions (and I’d argue expectations) make it even harder for us to acknowledge when we need a break. We’ve been socialized to accept, believe, and even be whatever is needed of us by whoever needs it. We feel pressure to be twice as good, to never show weakness, and to handle it all - literally everything - with a smile, and to be strong. To always be strong.
But here's the truth: strength also means knowing when to pause.
So this is your permission slip, sis. Take that stress break. Right now. I mean it.
If you’re at work, close your office door. Find an empty conference room. Step outside. Take five minutes for five simple acts of wellness:
Sit down, close your eyes, and breathe deeply.
Lower your shoulders.
Unclench your jaw.
Release your forehead.
Be still and silent.
If you work from home, step away from your desk and do the same.
Remember - your worth isn't measured by your constant availability. Your value doesn't diminish when you set boundaries. That meeting can wait five minutes. That email can wait five minutes. Your wellness can’t.
We know how to take care of everyone and everything; but we have to learn how to, practice, and normalize taking care of us. This self-care isn’t just self-preservation; it’s also revolution. In a world that expects us to keep pushing, choosing ourselves is an act of resistance.
So take that break. You've earned it. And when you return to your desk, know that you're not alone. We're in this together, holding space for each other's humanity in a system that too often forgets that we, too, are human.
Your sister in revolutionary self-care,
Sharla
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