Dear Dark Skinned Girl

The traits of being fierce and indestructible are said to be running through my terrifically tough superhuman veins. Society says that since I am a woman who is Black I am immune to all forms of feelings and emotions. 

Though I am not a superwoman.

Well, I am here to inform you that, that is not the case nor is it me, it’s what has been passed down to me unwillingly. I will no longer take the back-handed compliment of strong. We need to acknowledge that ‘strong’ is a word used to justify the repeated abuse of black women and children.

I have to sacrifice my voice

For me being a strong Black woman is dehumanising, it restricts me from speaking out as a result of society’s usage of tone policing.

Because of my skin colour, I have been taught to contain my emotions in order to please those around me and make them feel more comfortable.

I cannot openly speak about the microaggressions that pester me weekly, without being called dramatic or sensitive.

Society paints me as a villain for speaking out on the blatant misogynoir I have to face in the workplace.

My classmates say I am angry when I call them out for their light ‘jokes’.

The issue with being strong as a Black woman, in particular, is that we cannot be seen as everyone else because society has been conditioned to see us as unbreakable and resilient, which prohibits us from being able to talk about our lived experiences and inform those around us what we have to endure for just being Black in this world. This is vastly damaging to our mental wellbeing because at times some of us feel that we feel that it is wrong for us to feel like we are in need of extra support, therapy and counselling. Leaving our emotions caged for generations to come.

I feel pressured to put on a front

The media has carved us into these superhuman beings. TV shows and movies have a tremendous effect on the way society shapes culture. These prominent tropes have heavily perpetuated what behaviour and characteristics are expected from us. The angry black woman depiction was started in the 19th Century and has a long trail of prevalent existence in America.

It’s like a mask we’ve been trained to put on and wear for the rest of our lives.

In the 1970s, the Black woman evolved into the ‘Jezebel.’ Black women were portrayed as sexually insatiable and animalistic, as a way to justify the sexual abuse that they endured during and after slavery.

Yet, another example that dates back to the trauma’s we have had to endure being played down. This trope is the pinnacle example of a Black woman having to contain their pain. The blame is shifted onto them by the creation of this incredibly toxic trope. In instances like these, our strength is displayed through having to fight through these tropes as the tables are constantly turned onto us, in order to portray us as the antagonists.

Furthermore, forcing us into the habit that has painful effects of us masking ourselves into these unrealistic costumes of expected strength, lying behind a soul that should be allowed to be vulnerable. This has the long-term effects of damaging our mental health as we are not taken seriously when we express the adversity we have had to face because of being a Black woman.

It is used to justify the repeated abuse of our women

This trope has become a device for society to use to defend against their abuse of Black women, making the abuse heavily normalised. Creating toxic notions such as: ‘She is a Black girl, she’ll eventually get through it” or that just because we are Black women we don’t feel any kind of pain; that we are invincible. Moreover, justifying the abuse overtime under the guise of us being able to withstand ill-treatment. 

Consequently, due to this everlasting custom, society has led Black women to internalise this abuse and stay silent. There are Black women who have faced sexual abuse and domestic violence who are less likely to speak out and seek help due to the presumption of Black women being able to take more pain’ than others. 

From this we can see how damaging this trope is to our mental health, proving its degrading nature. An article published in the Psychology of Women journal revealed that there is a direct association between the internalization of the strong Black woman trope and loneliness, anxiety and depression among Black females. Black women who felt the pressure to be strong reported more instances of maladaptive perfectionism, a higher lack of self-compassion and other harmful psychological coping skills.

Upon all of the harmful effects of the ‘Strong Black Woman’ trope, you may wonder where I draw my strength from and how I perceive strength. 

Personally, I draw my strength from fighting for what’s right amidst all the injustices we are faced with. Speaking out on societal issues is what motivates me to write and express my opinions and educate our society, in pursuit of bringing about change. So, future generations to come don’t have to endure what I and many other Black people have had to undergo.

I do not like to view my strength as putting my mental health on the line and silencing my voice. For me, my strength is on full display when I fight for what I believe in.

My strength stems from seeing change and societal progression. It is what makes me feel motivated and empowered because for once I feel that we are headed into the new age of breaking away from these systemic and oppressive stereotypes.

As a woman, I do take pride in my strength and ability to overcome adversity. However, I realise that I have to separate being a strong woman from being a strong Black woman because those are two different matters. Women in history inspire me to overcome the battles that are presented to us as women as a whole, although my Blackness adds another layer to that. I still have to live through experiences such as colourism, texturism that are specific to me being Black.

Thus, the reason why I don’t take being a strong Black woman as a compliment, because ‘strong’ stems from the hardship our community has had to face throughout history. The strength that is associated with being a Black woman is rooted in acting as a protective shield to the discrimination that has been handed to us.

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Photo by Joshua Abner from Pexels

At my predominately white school, I have been asked many questions regarding my hair by non-Black people. Whenever I would get my hair straightened, I would face the same question: “Is that a wig?” Not only is that question extremely disrespectful, it is also just very unnecessary. Why does my hair concern you? Something I have realized is that anytime someone asks a question like this, it is not coming from a place of concern and care, it is condescending, as if they want you to admit something. Even if I was wearing a wig, what’s wrong with that? Wigs are only seen as cute and quirky when white girls wear them but as soon as a Black girl wants to wear one we are seen as “ghetto” and “ratchet”.

Many of my teachers have also made very inappropriate comments about my hair from “It’s almost like it grew overnight” to “Is that a weave?” Ignorance from kids is one thing but ignorance from grown adults is unacceptable– educators need to be educated about micro-aggressions and their language when talking about Black hair. 

I decided to interview my good friend Micayla Green about her experience with non-Black people making comments about her hair. She stated that “It feels like I’m in a museum, constantly being watched by others.” This quote emphasizes the sad truth for many Black girls, as our hair has to look perfect at all times to look “presentable”. She describes another experience when someone said that “It looks like someone is having a bad hair day” when her hair was just in a bun. People with straight hair can wear cute messy buns but as soon as a Black girl doesn’t feel like spending a long time getting ready, her hair doesn’t look “good.”

I then asked my older sister, Maryam Pate about micro-aggressions she has faced about her hair and she described an experience when a white friend told her, “You should straighten your hair more!” Although this may seem like a harmless “compliment” the girl was basically implying that her hair looks better when it fits society’s beauty standards–straight and thin hair.

I have never fully understood white people’s obsession with our hair. Whether it is a passive aggressive comment or touching our hair and calling it “poofy” they ALWAYS have something to say. Our hair isn’t “exotic” or “fake,” please just stop because me and many other Black girls are sick and tired of the never-ending scrutiny.

Black women’s hair has been looked down upon since the 18th century when British colonials said that Black women’s hair was closer to sheep wool than human hair. Today, Black girls are still being sent home from school because their hair isn’t presentable. Enough is enough.

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Art credits: Khia, @khiascanvas on Instagram

More info about things you shouldn’t ask Black girls :
https://naturallclub.com/blogs/the-naturall-club-blog/10-things-you-should-never-ask-a-black-woman-about-her-hair

The world is not particularly friendly to Black mental health. The constant reminders of Black oppression, the pandemic, and now, remote learning, have taken an exhausting toll on the mental health of Black teens.

Black teens across the country are facing burnout, a state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion caused by excessive and prolonged stress. Burnout looks differently for Black teens than teens of other demographics, as the taboo nature of mental health in the Black community means issues such as burnout often go unaddressed, and develop into more serious mental health issues such as depression. There is a present disconnect between Black teens and their parents over the severity and importance of mental health issues, that leaves Black teens feeling invisible within their own homes. 

Black parents often grow up in environments without readily accessible mental health resources. Discussions relating to anxiety, depression, difficulties dealing with anger, stress, and other challenges faced by today’s black parents in their youth were not usually had. Black parents cannot foster mentally healthy and safe environments, without the knowledge of how to create these environments for themselves. Mental health can and should be a partnership between parent and child. Black parents should seek out mental health resources for both themselves and their children, allowing both parties to learn coping strategies, and ways to effectively communicate their unique struggles. 

It is crucial to recognize that the beginning of a mental health journey is rarely easy or simple. Black adults are less likely to seek out mental health treatment as a result of existing distrust between the Black community and healthcare professionals. Black adults are more likely, if at all, to seek out Black therapists or mental health professionals, who account for only 4% of all mental health professionals working in the United States.

Although there is valid reason for hesitation, we owe it to ourselves to seek out and try therapy and other behavioral health supports, as mental health disproportionately affects Black people. Black teenagers are 3% more likely to commit suicide than their white counterparts, and Black adults experience feelings of sadness and worthleness more frequently than white adults. These statistics can be attributed to numerous factors: poverty, race, insecurities, and several others. More important than the statistics, is the action we take to combat them.

To the Black teen or parent who may want to begin their mental health journey, there are mental health resources that have been curated for the Black experience. Therapy for Black Girls encourages the accessibility of mental health resources to Black women and young girls specifically. The website includes a tool to find Black therapists, and a blog that can help to begin to educate Black women on how to begin advocating for their mental health.

Unrelated but similar, is Therapy For Black Men, which works to provide therapy options for Black men, as well as educate Black men on the mental health issues in the Black community as a whole.

If you are not yet ready for therapy but still want to dip your toe in the pool of mental health, podcasts are a great tool. Podcasts can be either an individual or shared experience, and can allow us to reflect on our own experiences, and try tools mentioned by podcast hosts. Podcasts such as Let’s Talk Bruh, Brown Girl Self Care, and Black Mental Health Podcast are great starting points. These podcasts are hosted by Black people with mental health experience, and their target audience is Black people. They are understanding voices, who are no stranger to the stigma, the struggle, and bravery in discussing mental health.

We have to first be there for ourselves, before we can be there for our friends and families. Mental health should not be stigmatized. It should be a communal effort and goal to improve the mental health of the Black community.

Black people should not be invisible to each other in a country where we are both hyper visible and invisible.  We have to see each other. Black teens, I see you. Black parents, I see you. Black people, I see you.

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Art credits: Melissa Koby, @mkoby_ on Instagram

On February 6, I received an email about Apple’s new Black Unity watch. At first, I was confused by this new piece of inventory until I remembered: it’s Black History Month, and that means it’s the time when corporations remember that we exist and decide to bombard us with a plethora of Black-inspired and focused products. 

While Black people look forward to this month as a time to celebrate the positive aspects of our history in this country and the work of organizers past and present, it seems that corporations look forward to this month as it allows them to market to the Black community. From streaming services to clothing companies and everything in between, we see corporations using Black History Month as a marketing tool. 

Following the display of performative activism that was #BlackoutTuesday, many Black people denounced the posts as lip service that often led to no action. Similar assertions were made about the many corporations that published statements in support of the Black Lives Matter movement yet did very little to dismantle the systemic racism that exists within their companies.

For example, UOMA owner Sharon Chuter’s #PullUpOrShutUp movement showed that many companies were quick to support #BlackLivesMatter in statements but, evidently, did not actually support the movement within their own companies, as is seen by the low percentages of Black employees in many of these corporations.

However, despite direct call-outs of the problematic practices of corporate America, it doesn’t appear that they quite received this message just yet.

This is not to say that I don’t love receiving a discount on Uber Eats for ordering from a Black-owned business, but I do pause and consider the motivations of these promotions. Given the severe lack of diversity in corporate America, these marketing schemes come across as disingenuous and patronizing.

I, for one, don’t want conciliatory clothing and media collections if it means that there is no actual systemic change occurring behind the scenes of these corporations – especially when many of these efforts all disappear the second the clock strikes midnight on March 1. 

This corporate virtue signaling is not a new marketing technique. This identity branding also occurs during Pride Month. As soon as we hit June 1, many companies begin to hang up LGBTQ+ flags and sell rainbow-themed products; however, any support of the LGBTQ+ community ends there when it comes to these corporations. 

For example, Under Armour, like many other companies, releases products in honor of Pride Month every year. Yet, Kevin Plank, then CEO of the company, called Donald Trump “a real asset for the country” in 2017. While this praise was in relation to the former president’s stances toward businesses, none of Trump’s policies – positive or negative – can be separated from his extensive laundry list of homophobic actions that began long before his time in office.

Therefore, it is clear that companies will use Pride Month as a marketing tactic to draw members of the LGBTQ+ community to their products. As we now see, companies take the same approach to the Black community, and it’s time for them to stop. 

Marginalized people do not exist solely for companies to profit off of us. While discounts, collections and products are something nice to look at and possibly buy, marginalized people would much rather see action – specifically, long-term action – from these corporations instead.

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Art credits: Halimah Smith, @artpce on Instagram

The events that have occurred over the past year have broken and reshaped the lives of people all over the world. It is true that being in a state of quarantine & experiencing a global pandemic has changed the lives of many, but I speak of one series of events that have been brought to light this past year: The Black Lives Matter Movement. 

This movement served as a falling line of dominos, each domino falling with a louder shatter than the last. Institutional racism was brought to light and companies were held accountable. As I watched the dominos fall each day, I began to question why the Black Lives Matter movement had been a movement for years, but people were just now starting to take issues affecting Black people seriously. People everywhere for once in their lives were forced to take a step back and educate themselves on issues that they once turned a blind eye to because those issues never affected them.  

I can proudly say that the Black Lives Matter Movement in all of its glory has been one of the best things that have happened in my lifetime, but when thinking about the movement and where we stand now as a society, I cannot help but ask myself “Is that all?”

I am a firm believer in education. I think the gift of learning is one of the purest gifts a new mind could ever receive. I am also a firm believer in the fact that where we are now will not be where we will be in the future. Though there has been a great deal of change, I expect that the future generation will do ten times more. I expect that they will stand united to educate people of all backgrounds and to ensure that even the most marginalized voices now will never be overlooked again. Unfortunately, I cannot see that happening without there being a change in our education system. 

Being a little Black girl at a time before this movement, I loved having representation (as I imagine all little Black girls did at such a time). Seeing a Black princess on the television or seeing a Black woman in the spotlight made my heart glow in ways that I could not even begin to explain. It felt good to look up and see someone who looked like me, doing her thing in all her glory. I loved representation. 

I also loved school. I loved walking into class in the morning having no idea about something and walking out knowing all about it. 

Black History Month was the combination of my two favorite things: learning and Black female representation. Unfortunately, the thrilling idea of what the month could hold faded faster than it arrived. Black History Month became a never-ending cycle that I hoped would end as soon as it begun, and here is why:

In first grade, I learned about Martin Luther King Jr. A man who stood up for what he believed in, he is the face of Black History Month for many people. 

In second grade I was introduced to Rosa Parks, who I would later find out was the token Black woman when it comes to women’s role in the Civil Rights Movement. 

In third grade, it was back to Martin Luther King Jr. Then Rosa Parks again the next year. Sometimes Malcolm X or Harriet Tubman were thrown in, just for good measure. Every single year the very thought of Black History Month would cause me to draw a blank stare because I would sit there learning about the same people I had learned about since first grade. I would often ask myself: “Is this it? Where am I in history? Where are the other women who look like me?” 

I would watch as my peers and teachers would talk about these people and their achievements for a month, then quickly shut that chapter of our curriculum, almost as if February 28th of every year served as an expiration date for teaching kids about Black History.

I do not say this to undermine the achievements of influential Black people such as Rosa Parks, MLK, or Malcolm X. I say this to emphasize the fact that Black History month should not be based solely on the achievements of a handful of Black people.

The lack of diversity amongst the individuals that schools choose to highlight and focus on during Black History Month just shows the serious lack of knowledge that the public school system has about Black history. It is almost as if many educators could not even be bothered to dive in a little bit deeper into Black history to educate the younger generation about more Black people who stood up in the face of adversity. 

As someone who used to be that young Black girl desperate for Black female representation, I can say without a doubt that just Rosa Parks and Harriet Tubman are not enough. The works of only two amazing and strong Black women are not enough to be the face of a month dedicated to an entire community. I wish that instead of going around in circles focusing on people that we already know, educators would introduce people that we haven’t seen in enough light. 

Children should be learning about women like Shirley Chisholm who broke barriers as the first Black woman to be elected to congress in 1968 for the 12th district in New York. Women like Stacy Abrams who is quite literally the epitome of the true selflessness of a Black woman, even in the face of a huge loss. Women like Gloria Richardson, a candid and fearless woman who is a model example of a force that cannot be shaken. Women like Viola Davis, the first Black woman to ever win an Emmy for lead actress in a drama and a powerful voice for Black women in Hollywood. I think I speak for a majority of young Black women when I say that my childhood might have been a bit different if I had those women as role models. 

As we all celebrate Black History Month this year, I encourage all of us to take time to step back and ponder on the events that have occurred this past summer. I encourage people of all backgrounds, races, and demographics to acknowledge the growth that we have had and the points in our lives where we still have room for growth. The well that is education never expires or dries up; there is always room to learn more. 

I hope that during this month (and after it’s over) we will stray away from only focusing on the “token Black activists.” I hope that we will educate ourselves on Black activists (male and female) whose efforts are overlooked and ignored. I also hope that educators will see this month as a new slate to give out new knowledge, not the knowledge of people and things that we already know about. The fate of our future lies in the hands of our youth. 

As Nelson Mandela once said: “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”

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Here’s some Black women you can start learning about today:

• Myrlie Evers
• Mary Ann Shad Cary
• Ida B. Wells
• Josephine St. Pierre Ruffin
• Prathia Hall

Art credits: Kprecia, a digital illustrator. @KpInspires on Instagram.

When you think of the Black Lives Movement, which names come to mind? Is it George Floyd? Is it Jacob Blake? Maybe you think of Ahmaud Arbery or Breonna Taylor. Regardless of who comes to mind, you know that the Black Lives Matter movement is centered around the injustice inflicted upon the Black community.

That is what the movement should be about, but that is not the way it truly is. The unjust killing of Black men is a very important part of the Black lives matter movement, but it is not the only thing that needs to be focused on to initiate change. 

Breonna Taylor was essentially the only widely well-known Black woman representing injustice during the Black Lives Matter movement this summer.

Breonna Taylor was shot in her own home on March 13, 2020, but why did no one “say her name” for months? Why was her death not seen as an injustice within the Black community for so long? Why was her story ignored, and why is it still being ignored?

It can be said without a doubt that Black men face immense amounts of discrimination and inequality every day, but that does not mean that the discrimination and inequality that Black women face should be overlooked, locked up in a box, and the key thrown under a rug until society gets bored and a new “breaking news” headline is needed. 

 The fear within the Black community is unreal. The constant anxiety that Black people feel can only be compared to feeling as if there is a giant target. A target that remains unmoved, no matter how much one attempts to scratch or abrade. This fear is not only limited to Black men.

Black women feel the same, but it seems as though they are less vocal about their experiences. At the height of the Black Lives Matter movement, I found myself down the dark hole that is racial bias in the healthcare that is provided for Black women and other women of color versus the healthcare provided for white women. I was appalled at the large number of healthcare workers that believed that Black women experienced pain differently from other women. I was also shocked to see that a fear of doctors & healthcare workers was common amongst Black women.

The most troubling part of all of it was the fact that this wasn’t a prominent issue that was being discussed when people would talk about the Black Lives Matter movement. 

During the Black Lives Matter movement, Black women were often seen on the front lines of protests.

Yet, coverage of the movement was heavily centered around Black men. Everyone knew that, but that did not stop Black women from rising and backing up Black men. This should be the norm, and nothing less should be expected. The question is: “Would Black men do the same?” Do Black men extend that same allyship towards Black women? 

One well-known example would be the situation with Megan The Stallion and Tory Lanez. Tory was accused of shooting Megan, information that was only released after fans pressured Megan for weeks asking her who shot her. At first, Megan did not bring the situation to social media, but Tory did. Instead of laying low and attempting to handle the situation privately, Tory made jokes about Megan’s situation and even went as far as making a song about her. When Megan did come out with the truth, fans did not treat her as the victim in the situation.

Instead, they treated her with contempt, claiming that her coming forward was her way of “incarcerating another innocent Black man” which is what she attempted to avoid in the first place. For weeks after the incident memes and jokes were made about her by Tory’s fans. People continued to misgender her and call her a “shame to the Black community.” 

 This situation was just one example of the injustice committed against Black women being overlooked. The public may never know whether it was Megan who was in the wrong or Tory, but one thing is sure: There were too many people in the Black community who saw this as an opportunity to jump on Megan instead of hearing both sides of the story. This doesn’t go to say that Megan was completely innocent, but I think that her story should have been taken more seriously than it was. People all over the world (including Black men) are always ready to be vocal about Black issues until it has to do with the issues that Black women face. 

The injustice that a Black man faces is discrimination, while the injustice that a Black woman faces is treated as completely normal. It is sad to see Black women being overlooked, ignored, and neglected. People always say “protect Black women” yet even our own Black men can’t even seem to do so. 

I don’t say all this to say that Black men should be ignored. I also don’t say all this to say that Black men deserve any kind of injustice. I say all this to say that the activism and support we show for Black men should also be shown for Black women.

The Black Lives Matter movement should never be focused on one group within the Black community. The things I face as a Black woman may not be the same things that a Black man faces, but our experiences should never be compared, one being chosen and set on a pedestal while the other one is pushed into the shadows.

I hope that as we grow and we can learn to accentuate all the issues within our community, not just the ones that are most common or seem like they carry the most significance.

In order to initiate change, every issue of every person within the Black community must be brought to light.

Every injustice is an injustice. There is no small injustice, there is just ignorance. 

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Art credits: Melissa Koby, @mkoby_ on Instagram

On August 30th, it started with British singer Adele.

She posted an Instagram photo wearing Bantu knots and a Jamaican-flag patterned top. Of course, reactions poured in. Adele trended on Twitter, while the notorious drama page on Instagram @TheShadeRoom reposted Adele and incited debate in their comment section.  Many Black people, primarily British Jamaicans, said that this was an example of cultural appreciation, not appropriation. Adele was at Notting Hill Carnival, an annual cultural event organized by the British West Indian community.

Others argued that it was cultural appropriation, due to the large amount of praise white women receive for wearing hairstyles that Black women are vilified for. On my side of Twitter, Adele’s Bantu knots also led to jokes: edits of Adele’s song “Someone Like You” with a reggae twist, etc. 

However, instead of remaining a meme or becoming a simple disagreement about cultural appropriation vs. appreciation, it spiraled into a debate over whether Black-Americans had the right to call-out cultural appropriation.

Nearly five months later, I think back to this incident often. While it was my first time witnessing such large-scale arguing amongst Black people on Twitter, it would certainly not be the last. In fact, “diaspora wars,” referring to arguments that break out within members of the global African diaspora, are all too common. Some of these “wars” are tiny and meaningless– such as arguing over which culture makes the best food– but others reveal internalized anti-Blackness.

The Adele situation provides a good example of how diaspora wars harm Black people. The fact that this furor and disrespect towards other cultural groups (on both sides) was in defense of a white woman never sat right with me. 

At the end of the day, it’s not like Adele was even a victim of cancel culture. Calling her out for cultural appropriation, or defending her actions as cultural appreciation had no impact on her career. Two months later, Adele was hosting SNL, as famous and celebrated as ever. Yet, there was intractable harm done to online relations between Black Americans, Africans, British West-Indians, and others.

The Philadelphia Inquirer notes another cause behind a past diaspora war centered among Black people in America: the casting of British-Nigerian actress Cynthia Erivo as Harriet Tubman, a Black-American abolitionist who is a cultural symbol of freedom and resistance. When an old tweet of Erivo’s surfaced mocking “ghetto American accents,” some people claimed that she should not portray a Black American hero.  According to reporter Valerie Russ, Erivo’s casting, among other incidents that have sparked diaspora wars, raised these questions: 

“Who is black in America? Can there be unity based on skin color alone? Who gets to speak for African Americans?”

So far, there isn’t unity based on skin color alone– but there should be (at least within different Black groups living in the United States). There are always going to be inherent differences between how members of the diaspora respond to racism and injustice– because we simply don’t share the same experiences. 

For example: A common component of the diaspora wars are Black Americans being accused of being “obsessed” with race, because we’re quick to point out microaggressions. Of course, coming from a Black American standpoint, I’m inherently biased. But when you think of the Black experience in the United States– Black people always being in the minority, always being forced to assimilate, always having our culture dismissed by white society– we care more about seemingly immaterial issues like cultural appropriation because we’ve been told our trends and styles are more acceptable on white bodies. 

If you’ve grown up in a Black-majority country, however, a foreigner or white person wearing box braids is an indication that they’re attempting to assimilate or connect with your culture. Living in a country as a minority culture vs a minority culture creates completely different ideas about what constitutes as racial injustice.

Diaspora wars often bring to light the stereotypes we believe about other Black groups, most of them negative. These stereotypes are built from global white supremacy and anti-Blackness, such as the notion that African or Caribbean cultures are inferior or that Black-Americans are all lazy and low-achieving.

I can’t directly speak for African or Caribbean-American communities. But I can say this: 

Whether we’ve been divided by willful immigration or involuntary enslavement, at the end of the day, we’re all Black. We may have separate cultures and values, but issues such as racism and white supremacy impact us all the same. In many ways, our divergent cultures are built with components of one another. Standing for Black people, and empowering Black people, means standing for all Black people, even when they don’t share your culture or nationality. 

Acknowledging genuine hurt is important. When people claim that, say, they felt like their African culture was dismissed or made fun of by Black Americans, those feelings of hurt are valid. When African-Americans are hurt when they’re told that they’re lacking a culture by those who know their African ancestry, those feelings are valid, too. But continuing this cycle of hurt online benefits no one.

At their core, diaspora wars are caused by a lack of understanding and an unwillingness to listen to another group’s differences. We are not each other’s enemies, and we can unite with each other without being the same. White supremacy in America (and abroad) doesn’t care what nationality you are or what culture you have. Instead of fighting amongst ourselves and feeding into anti-Blackness, let’s work together to tackle issues that impact Black people worldwide.

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Art credits: Bria Nicole, @briapaints on Instagram