Many will Celebrate the Wins of Black Women but only Our Bodies Keep the Score
Where’s the outrage for violence against Black women?
While most of the world is fixated on the public display of violence broadcasted during the Academy Awards over the weekend, I am still sitting with my emotional response to the violence publicly enacted against Supreme Court nominee Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson on last week. And, if I am being honest, what happened to Jada Pinkett Smith only exacerbated those feelings.
This is because, although the world tries to convince us that only sticks and stones can hurt us, Black women’s bodies tell a different story. Ask any Black woman about our disproportionate, yet medically unexplainable, experiences with chronic illnesses and autoimmune disorders, such as alopecia, and we might tell you what we know, but that would require medical professionals to listen to Black women and to deem our lived experiences as trustworthy and truthful.
However, we also know that giving Black women the honor and credit they deserve is an uncommon practice.
Perhaps that is why Senator Cory Booker’s soliloquy during last week’s confirmation hearings for Judge Jackson was such a standout moment for many Black women.
Now, usually, I would not give Booker the time of day, but after a clip of his speech went viral it was nearly impossible to avoid it. So, color me surprised when I found myself damn near sobbing while listening to his words honoring and celebrating the career and character of Judge Jackson.
It could have been the timing. Booker’s speech began to make the rounds on the heels of a number of video clips, memes, and images that had been circulating throughout the week. Black women on my timeline gushed over the photo of Jackson’s daughter smiling at her in admiration on the first day of the hearings, while others rallied in “if you know, you know” captions under images and clips of Judge Jackson keeping her composure under racist and sexist fire.
Most Black women are intimately familiar with each expression and every feeling that flashed across Judge Jackson’s face throughout her confirmation hearings. We briefly saw those same facial expressions flash across Jada Pinkett Smith’s face during the Academy Awards ceremony as well.
Those feelings of frustration and exasperation are like marrow in our bones.
It’s the pursing of the lips to make sure they don’t twitch. It’s the pausing and deep breathing to choose every word with the utmost care. It’s the smile to keep from crying… in public. These moments are the milestones of our everyday experiences as we pursue pathways to success. While everyone is shouting on “Black Girl Magic!” from the sidelines, we’re sighing and reminding ourselves to be mindful of our side eye. But, in private, every bit of violence enacted through racism and sexism runs its course.
I think that’s what jarred me about Senator Booker’s speech: so many people will celebrate the wins of Black women, but only our bodies will keep the score.
Our physical bodies that are all too often attacked by the adrenaline and cortisol of publicly racist and sexist moments, and ones in private, too. Our bodies that disproportionately suffer from anxiety and depression, high blood pressure, heart disease, fertility issues and fibroids because of moments like these. Our bodies that, long after the applause dies down, are so amped up, so badly injured, from holding us together as we achieve accomplishment after accomplishment that they begin to break down. We exhibit grace under fire, for sure. But once the fire dies down, who still cares about Black women?
The failure to truly, and deeply, care for Black women beyond a public spectacle is what our bodies understand about what Judge Jackson experienced last week. And though many will celebrate her impending historical Supreme Court confirmation, I find myself turning away from the screen and logging off in order to avoid a barrage of PTSD symptoms from watching a woman who looks like me do exactly what we’re always expected, and what our successes often require of us, to do.
As Senator Booker continued his strange and wildly enthusiastic public celebration of Judge Jackson, I couldn’t help but offer a silent prayer, “Lord, let her be well,” as my tears matched the tears that streamed slowly down her face. Those tears were a visual reminder to all Black women that Black girls aren’t magical; we’re in survival mode.
We’re not simply thriving off pixie dust and the spiritual interventions of our ancestors — or the forehead kisses or defending tactics of our husbands and partners. Our bodies are being kept in motion by pure determination with a sidekick of internal and biological interventions that are highly sensitive to the threat of violence that is always on our heels.
That threat of violence is in the board room. It’s at the conference table. During a traffic stop. At the parent-teacher conference. In the doctor’s office. In our beds and our living rooms. At the award ceremony. And, as we all witnessed last week, it’s even on display in front of an entire nation during nomination hearings to become a Supreme Court Justice.
So, even if you may not have witnessed someone walk up and physically slap a Black woman in your lifetime, know that you have witnessed violence enacted on our bodies in myriad ways. And we are left to wonder, where is your outrage?
