Why Am I Proud to be a Black Woman

The sound of the pan sizzles as food seasoned, according to the ancestor’s instructions, is cooked to perfection. Skin glistening like the sun while our hair reaches up to God. We are made in Her image. From colorful weaves and long, loud nails to slicked back buns and a string of pearls, we create trends and set the standard. 

Why am I proud to be a black woman? Who wouldn’t be proud?

The strength of the Dahomey Amazons, the grace of Michelle and the sensuality of Eartha. With our hips swaying rhythmically, we birth nations of creators, activists and innovators. Although some people would want us to believe that we are nothing and at the bottom of the totem pole, that suggests that we carry civilization on our backs. When we stand tall, those that benefit from us kneeling come toppling down.

Why am I proud to be a black woman? Who wouldn’t be proud?

Growing up, I didn’t have a great relationship with my blackness. Nicknamed “Blacky” because of my deep cocoa skin led me to hate it. As I came into my own as a woman, I began to look at myself differently. One day, I spent hours looking at myself in the mirror, not only to see my features but to catch a glimpse of my soul. The longer I looked, the more I saw my ancestors. My strength and courage began to show itself and I wept. I finally saw myself as God saw me. My lips full of hope, my nose as wide as a rainbow and my skin kissed by the sun. I am a nature personified.

I love being a black woman because of the unspoken language of looks and head tilts that we have, the different smiles that mean different things and the slight nod of “go head girl!” encouragement. We see each other in ways that no one else does. Our shared experiences hold us together and our futures garner a perpetual Yaaasss Sis! Who can stop us? Often thrown overboard with bricks tied around our necks, we manage to rise above and we are teaching the next generation of black women to discard the premise that the brick is necessary. We are worthy of rest, luxury and love and anything we want without the pain, without the struggle. They will walk across the earth with heads held high and claiming everything that is theirs.

Why am I proud to be a black woman? Who wouldn’t be proud?

We are the mold. Many look to us to replicate but they can never duplicate our essence and our spirit. There are many modern medical advantages that might look the same. Some might watch hours trying to learn the dances that come naturally to us or scour cookbooks to jock our flavor but it will never come close to the authenticity of being us. No shade but I said what I said. We are magnificent, royal, feminine, strong and everything in between. Being a black woman is more than just our skin and hair. It’s more than just cooking and setting trends. It is a spiritual thing. Black women are real life Goddesses on earth. To be in the presence of a black woman is to experience God. 

So why wouldn’t I be proud to be a black woman?