Chapter 12

Can I (We) Live?

We teach girls shame. “Close your legs. Cover yourself.” We make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot say they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A moment that lives rent-free in my mind every so often is the debacle of one of my grad school presentations. It completely flopped due to a lack of empirical evidence, poor preparation, and a hypothesis primarily based on my naiveté. In a nutshell, I waited until the last minute, thinking I could wing it with my presumptuous gift of gab, but instead, I stumbled through a feedback session that was less than favorable, along with a disappointing grade. From what I can recall, I asserted that black women’s bodies are judged more harshly and scrutinized to a greater extent compared to non-black women, creating an unforgiving social bias. At the time, my frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed, so I didn’t have the capacity to explore the topic in-depth and give it the justice it deserves, but at this age, let’s dive into it. I will preface my thoughts by stating they are rooted in a blend of sociocultural explorations, personal experiences, and an undeniable, ingrained passion for black women. I will always address the ever-present social ills that plague us as a cohort and have somehow become normalized tropes, like a ball and chain. What better timing than the closing of Women’s History Month? 

I believe that society has fostered a complex relationship with women’s bodies, particularly the black female form. Whether these ideas arise from stringent religious beliefs, vary by geographical location, or stem from outdated cultural practices, the black female body is often subject to discussion, judgment, analysis, or consumption. This may sound like liberal jargon, but these concepts hold very significant implications that can turn fatal at worst. An example of this concept is “Adultification.” As it pertains to black girls, it refers to the societal perception of black girls as less innocent, more experienced, and more capable of adult behaviors than their counterparts. Consequently, the impact leads to the hyper-sexualization of black women, negative stereotypes of black women as aggressive, and the notion that black women need less nurturing and protection. I believe another inadvertent element this dynamic creates is the extreme parameters in which black women are allowed to celebrate their bodies freely, without judgment, and outside of procreation. 

It seems that public perception has shaped an alternative narrative for Black women who engage in activities our counterparts participate in but with added scrutiny and negative pigeonholes. Additionally, trivial matters such as dancing, clothing choices, hairstyles, photo opportunities, working in corporate America, and being part of the entertainment industry seem to evoke feelings of discomfort when associated with Black women. Destructive connotations seem to arise for Black women who merely exist in joy and freedom of expression, leading us to be labeled as “ghetto, “inappropriate, “some sort of sexual overture, “trashy,” or any other imaginable social construct that comes to mind. A finite microcosm has been created, making it socially unacceptable to have a human existence in a human world. It seems that life becomes performative to avoid overstepping cultural boundaries and to satisfy the comfort of others. I’m fully aware of where these ideas originated: the asexualized mammy trope and the overly sexualized, emotionless ideology that was created to soothe the minds of individuals who committed heinous acts against black women. But are we not allowed to release these notions and exist freely as anyone else? I certainly am. 

This is not to advocate for an agenda of boundaryless anarchy for black women but rather to provide the freedom to learn from life’s faux pas, to love ourselves unconditionally and openly, to avoid demonizing our bodies for simply being curvy, and to enjoy all the spoils of life without needing to validate our worthiness. Happiness, sex, pleasure, intellect, curiosity, vanity, and our idiosyncrasies all coexist harmoniously. Authenticity is freedom; let us, in our wholeness, be free, including our bodies. What are your thoughts below? Let’s discuss it!