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Opinion: Disrupting the harmful ‘strong black woman’ narrative

11 August 2022 | Story Nombulelo Shange | Photo Andre Damons

Opinion article by Nombulelo Shange, Lecturer in the Department of Sociology at the University of the Free State and Chairperson of the University of the Free State Womxn’s Forum.

The idea of the ‘strong black woman’ is a source of pride for many of us. It makes us feel empowered, particularly when life is breaking us down. But this stereotype can also be very harmful, because it can paint us as homogeneous, unfeeling, angry and unkind people. And when we can’t take the abuse that comes with this stereotype in our relationships, friendships, workplaces, schools and other social spaces, it is our character that is questioned, not the action, individual or institution that has treated us badly.

The perception becomes that you are ‘weak’ or ‘not woman enough’. We end up being too prescriptive and narrow in our understandings or definitions of what it means to be a black woman. But at its core it should mean inclusion, individual and collective acceptance, and expression of our differences. The ‘strong black woman’ definitions and labels can be isolating and exclusionary even when they aren’t intended to be. When I say “To be a black woman is to be strong”, it should not mean those that are not strong are not women or are inadequate at being women. The truth is even vulnerability is important – even for strong women – and is a strength in itself.

Tracing the origins of the ‘strong black woman’

Historically, even after slavery was abolished, black women were still viewed as slaves/servants, or as promiscuous. This reduced black women’s personhood, and they were not taken seriously socially. Even as the more inclusive new world order was emerging, black women were being left out. They struggled to find adequate work, it was more challenging for them to occupy positions of leadership, and they were overly sexualised. A lot of this is still true even today. To counter these negative stereotypes, black women came up with the ‘strong black woman’ narrative, which came from black resistance, including by women’s suffragette leader, author and educator Mary Church Terrell. Terrell came up with the slogan “Lifting as we climb” – both to inspire black women to reach for greatness while supporting each other, and to present black women to others as more than just slaves.

Similarly, in South Africa during apartheid, women organised themselves around social issues, with many community-based organisations springing up, including the Alexandra Women’s Council (AWC) and Bantu Women’s League (BWL). Founded in 1913, the BWL was led by the revolutionary Charlotte Maxeke; she and other BWL members demanded recognition and to be heard during a time when women were not allowed full membership in the African National Congress. In 1947 the AWC successfully resisted forced removals when the Native Affairs Commission was sent to Alexandra Township to move shack dwellers. These women refused to participate in a job market where black women could only be in service of white people. They were self-reliant and made money mainly through traditional beer brewing. Slogans like “Wathinta abafazi, wathint' imbokodo!” (“You strike a woman, you strike a rock”) were popularised in SA and perpetuated the notion that black women are strong and can handle anything.

The danger

While the ‘strong black woman’ stereotype was created by black women, I want to argue that it worked a little too well, and even its creators would not be happy with how it is interpreted today. It is used to justify our oppression and abuse instead of celebrating our strengths as was intended. Our mothers and grandmothers carried the weight of the world while still portraying very strong personas, never showing any weakness. The expectation is that we do the same in the workplace, in relationships, our homes, and our communities. It doesn’t matter if this comes at the expense of our mental health and energy, because we are ‘strong’, and we ‘should be able to take it’.

The women that came before us almost single-handedly raised strong families, skilfully stretching the little money they had to address all the family’s needs. And they did it with love – because of the personal sacrifices and lengths our mothers would take to ensure that we were happy, many of us did not realise until much later on in life that we had grown up poor. To make sure we had as many of the things we wanted as possible, they struggled to address their own basic needs. Our mothers and grandmothers did all of this while navigating the worst institutionalised racism and gender oppression, while leading or inspiring revolutions and providing a safe space for black men whose bodies, masculinity and sense of self were constantly under attack.

Beyond the negative mental health implications, the ‘strong black woman’ narrative also affects other parts of social life. This includes workplaces that overburden black women – while paying them significantly less than men or other races, and overlooking them for promotions. In our communities, black women are the lifeline of our churches, community organisations and structures, but are side-lined from leadership positions and the potential social or economic rewards that should come with their participation. Even healthcare institutions let us down, with racial and gender bias playing a big role in how we are diagnosed and treated when we are sick.

Rich and powerful black women like Serena Williams, with access to the best healthcare money can buy, are not excluded from this reality: Williams’s childbirth complications briefly raised awareness on the inadequate medical care black women get. Often the perception is that we have lied or exaggerated our symptoms or pain experience. When Williams reported having shortness of breath to medical staff, they ignored her and assumed she was confused from her painkillers. This is a global phenomenon, made worse by lack of resources in poorer countries. SA’s healthcare system, which is built on the backs of mostly black women nurses, simultaneously excludes them. A 2020 Oxfam report titled ‘The right to dignified healthcare work is a right to dignified health care for all’ found that many black female nurses do not have access to the services they provide – they can’t afford healthcare or to take sick leave, because they do not get paid when they do not work.

When we internalise ‘strong black womanness’

The ‘strong black woman’ narrative is most dangerous when we unquestioningly internalise it. We even go to the extent of normalising it in cultural life, as expressed in sayings like, “Kuyabekezelwa emshadweni”, meaning, “You persevere through everything in a marriage/relationship.” This is what black women often tell themselves and each other when they experience hardship – mostly in relationships, but also in general life. Even if this hardship is abuse or a life-threatening situation, we fight to survive, instead of leaving. This Women’s Month, let us remember that it is OK to be soft, diverse, and multifaceted. It is OK to leave toxic workplaces and relationships and, most importantly, it is OK to be vulnerable and open to healing – because we have been through the most.

News Archive

Media: ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe

2006-05-20

27/05/2006 20:32 - (SA)
ANC can learn a lesson from Moshoeshoe
ON 2004, the University of the Free State turned 100 years old. As part of its centenary celebrations, the idea of the Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture was mooted as part of another idea: to promote the study of the meaning of Moshoeshoe.

This lecture comes at a critical point in South Africa's still-new democracy. There are indications that the value of public engagement that Moshoeshoe prized highly through his lipitso [community gatherings], and now also a prized feature in our democracy, may be under serious threat. It is for this reason that I would like to dedicate this lecture to all those in our country and elsewhere who daily or weekly, or however frequently, have had the courage to express their considered opinions on pressing matters facing our society. They may be columnists, editors, commentators, artists of all kinds, academics and writers of letters to the editor, non-violent protesters with their placards and cartoonists who put a mirror in front of our eyes.

There is a remarkable story of how Moshoeshoe dealt with Mzilikazi, the aggressor who attacked Thaba Bosiu and failed. So when Mzilikazi retreated from Thaba Bosiu with a bruised ego after failing to take over the mountain, Moshoeshoe, in an unexpected turn of events, sent him cattle to return home bruised but grateful for the generosity of a victorious target of his aggression. At least he would not starve along the way. It was a devastating act of magnanimity which signalled a phenomenal role change.

"If only you had asked," Moshoeshoe seemed to be saying, "I could have given you some cattle. Have them anyway."

It was impossible for Mzilikazi not to have felt ashamed. At the same time, he could still present himself to his people as one who was so feared that even in defeat he was given cattle. At any rate, he never returned.

I look at our situation in South Africa and find that the wisdom of Moshoeshoe's method produced one of the defining moments that led to South Africa's momentous transition to democracy. Part of Nelson Mandela's legacy is precisely this: what I have called counter-intuitive leadership and the immense possibilities it offers for re-imagining whole societies.

A number of events in the past 12 months have made me wonder whether we are faced with a new situation that may have arisen. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and highly committed South Africans across the class, racial and cultural spectrum confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994. When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. It must have something to do with an accumulation of events that convey the sense of impending implosion. It is the sense that events are spiralling out of control and no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a handle on things.

I should mention the one event that has dominated the national scene continuously for many months now. It is, of course, the trying events around the recent trial and acquittal of Jacob Zuma. The aftermath continues to dominate the news and public discourse. What, really, have we learnt or are learning from it all? It is probably too early to tell. Yet the drama seems far from over, promising to keep us all without relief, and in a state of anguish. It seems poised to reveal more faultlines in our national life than answers and solutions.

We need a mechanism that will affirm the different positions of the contestants validating their honesty in a way that will give the public confidence that real solutions are possible. It is this kind of openness, which never comes easily, that leads to breakthrough solutions, of the kind Moshoeshoe's wisdom symbolises.

Who will take this courageous step? What is clear is that a complex democracy like South Africa's cannot survive a single authority. Only multiple authorities within a constitutional framework have a real chance. I want to press this matter further.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of "opposition". We are horrified that any of us could become "the opposition". In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there was no longer a single [overwhelmingly] dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of change. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than ones that seek to prevent it. This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement.

Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it currently is and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest itself in different articulations of itself, which then contend for social influence.

In this way, the vision never really dies, it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. If the resulting versions are what is called "the opposition" that should not be such a bad thing - unless we want to invent another name for it. The image of flying ants going off to start other similar settlements is not so inappropriate.

I do not wish to suggest that the nuptial flights of the alliance partners are about to occur: only that it is a mark of leadership foresight to anticipate them conceptually. Any political movement that has visions of itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early 1990s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. It is not a time for repeating old platitudes. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed up to the adoption or our Constitution?

Morena Moshoeshoe faced similarly formative challenges. He seems to have been a great listener. No problem was too insignificant that it could not be addressed. He seems to have networked actively across the spectrum of society. He seems to have kept a close eye on the world beyond Lesotho, forming strong friendships and alliances, weighing his options constantly. He seems to have had patience and forbearance. He had tons of data before him before he could propose the unexpected. He tells us across the years that moments of renewal demand no less.

This is an editied version of the inaugural Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture presented by Univeristy of Cape Town vice-chancellor Professor Ndebele at the University of the Free State on Thursday. Perspectives on Leadership Challenges In South Africa

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