Truth Is: I am a Brilliant Black Girl! by Raven Cokley

For as long as I can remember, I have been labeled as the smart Black girl. Over time, that has come to mean various things when uttered by different people. From elementary to high school, I was tracked for advanced placement, honors and IB courses. I distinctly remember the day that my elementary school principal told my 1st grade teacher that I needed to be in advanced classes the following year. I was even tested for the gifted program at my school but was denied entry because I hesitated when identifying a fire hydrant. 

Anyway, from that day to this one, I have been socialized to be the smart Black girl, by my family, teachers and community members. Attending predominantly White public institutions for my K-12 educational career only amplified this experience. Whenever the school needed a student representative to speak at the school board meetings or for any other “special” occasion, I was always tapped to be the student spokesperson. “Speaking like a White girl” gave me notoriety on campus (even in elementary school) for being the smart Black girl. With this notoriety, however, also came accusations of self-grandeur from my Black peers. However, the truth is that I was not “trying to be White”; I was just speaking how my mother taught me to speak. I did not think that I was better than anyone else; I just found grammar (and learning in general) to be extremely fun and I still do to this day. 

Being known as the smart Black girl isolated me from my Black peers. I sat alone, at the front of the school bus, right behind the bus driver (this was my mother’s rule since I was old enough to take the bus alone). After my best friend transferred schools, I ate alone in high school during lunchtime; in fact, I ate alone in the library. Being the only Black girl in IB courses was absolutely traumatizing, because I never saw any other Black girls that looked like me, spoke like me or dressed like me. I was all alone. I would literally get off the school bus in the morning and part ways with the other Black kids from the neighborhood as soon as we stepped foot on the campus—my high school was extremely segregated, but this was amplified given that the IB wing was intentionally isolated in its elitism from the rest of the school. 

Although my academic career has been in a majority White space, my mother was sure to surround me with Black women in my community who she trusted to be a part of the village that helped to raise me. I cheered, participated in mentoring programs and engaged in all of my community service endeavors with and for Black folks. I remember vividly being called an Oreo for being “Black on the outside and White on the inside”. I was also told that I was not Black enough to wear certain “urban gear” (my mom had just purchased some Apple Bottom jeans for me and I wore them to school; talk about a throwback!). Though I felt comfortable in being who I was and proud that I was a smart Black girl, I still did not fit in. I did not fit in at school amongst the sea of White students and teachers nor in my community activities in the neighborhood that I came home to every day. Again, I was all alone.

Thus, the biggest lie that I have been told about my Black womanhood was that I was too smart to be Black and too Black to be smart. In essence, I was the exception to both. My truth, however, is that I am a Brilliant Black Girl. I am smart, courageous and lovable because God created me in His image. I do not have to meet anyone else’s standards of brilliance, beauty or boldness. I am who God says that I am. I do not have to fit in anywhere because God created me to stand out. As a Brilliant Black Girl, I walk confidently in my purpose, find purpose in my passion and I am passionate about my People. I am not ashamed of my love for learning, for my Brilliance will help me to bring the first PhD into my family. My Brilliance will allow me to show other Black girls that like to “read for fun” or prefer to study on a Friday night that being a Brilliant Black Girl is AWESOME. The truth is, my Brilliance allows me to break barriers; my Brilliance allows me to be FREE.

MY BLACK WOMANHOOD by AKINPADE TOLUWANIMI

I am a black woman, not by choice but by nature. I didn't choose to be born black but some set of people called parents made the decision for me to be born. Growing up, I was told several lies about who a black woman is. Many say a black woman is inferior to other women. Others says she is only good in the  bedroom and in the kitchen. All these, I never once agreed with and that helped in bringing out the best in me. Today, I write the confirmed truth about a black woman. Black is beautiful, this is undeniable.

I am a black woman, my skills, ability and knowledge is beyond imagination. I am a black woman that sits with world leaders to discuss matters arising in their countries. I am a black woman with gifted hands that men all over the world can't resist the aroma from my kitchen. I am a black woman with dignity and pride. If I was to be born over and over again, I would like to be born as a black woman because I've got strength like no other woman in the world. I am undefeatable black woman. Indeed BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL!!!

The Carefree Black Woman by Erin Rausaw

Being "Young, Wild and Free" is just a phrase to some, but for me I made it into a reality. The world wanted me to conform to fear and I had no desire to do such. Being afraid meant struggling with what my peers thought or felt about me. That would also affect my everyday livelihood in the most negative way. That's what happened until I applied pressure and fell in love with myself.

Falling in love with myself was no easy task. It was simply the hardest thing I've ever encountered in 23 years. It meant loving all of me. Even my aggressive trait that I tried so hard to hide. Being aggressive doesn't make you less of a "typical black woman", if anything it makes you resilient. It helps you to stand on your own two feet without taking no for an answer and giving up. In the spring of 2015, I felt like throwing in the towel. I did absolutely everything within my power to do well and it wasn't working no matter how hard I tried.

I jumped at the opportunity of a change of scenery which helped in the best way. I learned exactly who I was without my friends and family. This BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMAN was me through trial and error. Making the same mistakes never gave me new results so I stayed afloat, picked up new hobbies and learned to love my laugh, and without hiding my unorthodox personality.

Is happiness the key to a successful life? I indeed would confess it to be true. We all have our problems in life that gives us typical results but why remain sad when you can be happy. Why spend the majority of your energy hating someone when you can make room to love a new hobby or person. You are your own version of what a BLACK WOMAN is and that's what makes you beautiful and unique. Loving yourself is an art that no one can buy or take from you. You have the ability to paint a new canvas everyday, with unlimited paint.

Metamorphosis of my Truth by Joy Woods

In the past week and a half, I have had three anxiety attacks. These attacks consisted of shortness of breath, blurred vision, hand tremors, and the complete lack of ability to function.   It was so bad, I missed an entire day of class—which is not a good thing when you’re in your first semester of graduate school.  I wish I could say that this was my first bout of anxiety, the massive cloud hanging over me. This dark cloud didn’t just bring anxiety; it brought the reign of depression. This “one-two punch” to my mental health has even landed me a short stint in a county psych ward due to suicidal thoughts.

I left my doctor’s appointment this week where I was tested for Generalized Anxiety Disorder and prescribed antidepressants when I realized the answer to the question: What is the biggest lie I have been told about my black womanhood? The biggest lie—even though it was subconscious— was black women are strong, and any emotional distress is viewed as a weakness and a mutation of your black womanhood.

As I am writing these words and discussing my personal battles, I am almost embarrassed; however, my truth is that this is a real issue and does not make me less of a black woman—or less of a person in general.  Walking in this truth openly is a struggle, sometimes I almost feel like I am wearing a Scarlet Letter or some symbol that denotes my mutation. I am fearful that my professors will view me as incapable of being in graduate school and my classmates will judge me or make fun of me. Or when I talk to my father, he will blame me for my anxiety and say it is my fault. All of these thoughts that are racing through my head 24/7, and it makes it even harder to function daily.

But also, as I am writing these words I am slowly being freed. Freed from the notion that I am imperfect and broken. Actually, I am more whole than I have ever been. I look back over my life and could list the things I have already accomplished even while dealing with anxiety. And I realize I am not any less of a strong woman. I have interned on Capitol Hill, I have interned in law offices, and even landed a research position at University of Iowa—where I currently am pursuing my MPH in Health Policy. I did all of these things, on my own. Does this not show you that I am strong? Strength is carrying on and pushing through issues like depression and anxiety to achieve your goals, as well as seeking help when needed.

My truth is I struggle with mental health issues and I am a black woman. I have not lost my black card. I do not have something wrong with me that makes me less human. My truth is that somedays are harder than others to wake up and get out of bed, but my truth is also I push myself to do it. I do it for me, to prove myself right. I do it for the little girls who look up to me. I do it for my family, to make them proud. And I do it for my late mother, so she knows I am strong just like her.

The fact of the matter, mental health has had this stigma wrapped around it for far too long, especially in the black community and it is time for it to stop. I hope by me telling my very own truth someone somewhere can live in theirs.

Strong Black Women are Wrong Black Women… by Christina Leatrice

Strong Black Women are Wrong Black Women...in so many words, that is the lie they tell us. They say society today has allowed women in general to forget their place. But for black women it is ten times worse because of almost everything we do. They describe it as being over the top; being "extra".

A vocal black woman is an angry black woman. A black woman embracing her natural femininity and choosing natural appearance is a pro black and anti white, black woman. She is labeled ugly because she doesn't meet society’s standards of beauty. A single black woman working two jobs, careful about whom she spends time with and splurges on herself is a black woman who is TOO independent.

We don't know our place. Strong Black Women are Wrong Black Women...at least that's what they tell us.

But I am a Strong Black Woman who was raised at the hands of two even Stronger Black Women— my mother and my grandmother. They worked for everything they had and have. They made sure their family was fed, safe and loved. They spoke up when they saw something wrong and they always taught me to be the unique person I am. It was about doing what was right and making sure I was happy and healthy. That was all I needed to see and hear in my life because it has molded me into a strong black woman myself.

That's the exact mentality I have. I was taught to be the voice when something is wrong. I was taught to not care so much about what people think of my appearance and choices. I was taught to make a plan for what needs to be done and dominate.

My truth: I’ve heard that lack of submission will be the cause of me being single for the rest of my life. And also being too guarded will allow my true love to pass me by. Some people may say that these qualities will block love finding us. So strength and caution are potential downfalls?

No, I do not believe that. I choose to be a single black working woman, who can handle my own. I learned that it's okay to do it alone and it’ll be even better IF the right man enters my life WILLING to contribute equally. It will definitely be a team effort. But until then, I still have needs that must be taken care of. If I don’t do it, who will? All of these qualities are qualities of a virtuous woman; someone who speaks for what is right, confident in herself and doesn't mind hard work. What man wouldn't appreciate that? What person wouldn't respect that?

I guess people think Strong Black Women are Wrong Black Women when they ONLY focus on skin color and stereotypes. Or, are the people who are feeling guilty about the fact that Black women have had to step up to be more than women in today's society, because the dependable Strong Black Man population is becoming extinct? But that's another subject for another day...

All in all, I am not against being that submissive wife in my future. But right now, I am just fine with being a single Strong Black Woman waiting for my Boaz.