The White Violence Of “Stay Strong, Black Woman"

Nothing made America’s fetish for the strong Black woman more glaring than the Senate Confirmation Hearings of Ketanji Brown Jackson. The phantom sound of lips smacking and salivating mouths vibrated the airwaves as thousands of White Americans were served up the spectacle of yet another strong Black woman being beaten on tv.

Watching clips from the hearings reminded me of slave narratives about a dignified savage who could not be broken by her “master." America loves a slavery movie rich with the spiciness of Black trauma, persistence and fortitude. America loves the taste of unending Black labor in it’s mouth. So, they tuned in to savor her composure, to witness every lash of the whip, every carefully schooled face suppressing every natural emotion. They watched and waited for her to cry out. For me, as a Black woman, it was exhausting. I, too, have lived through similar situations.

Don’t get me wrong. I, too, excel at being a strong Black woman. Never would I trade that metaphysical steel rod my parents instilled by in my spine. Never would I trade the PhD level of schooling for which my face has been trained to exhibit that necessary composure. I would never want to be a weak flibertyjibbit specimen of weeping womanhood. I can not imagine what it would be like to cry and have the whole White world inspired to beat, mutilate or murder for my ease and comfort. I…