Black Women, Strength, and the Right to Be Well

Every year during Women's History Month, the same words come out of people's mouths when describing black women. Strong. Resilient. Powerful. And yeah, that is true. Black women are the pillars that keep families, careers, and generations going. That is a real strength. That is real power. And that should definitely be respected.

However, this year, during Women's History Month, I want to take a moment to reflect on what that strength truly looks like. I want to think about what that power truly feels like. I want to think about what that resilience truly costs.

I am a psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner. And over the dozen years that I have been doing this work, I have seen black women walk through the doors of my office. These women have been carrying burdens that were never meant to be carried, such as the weight of societal expectations, systemic racism, and the challenges of balancing multiple roles in their lives. These women never intended to bear these burdens. These women have been showing up for everyone else. These women have been showing up for everyone else while appearing to be the epitome of high-functioning, suggesting they manage their responsibilities exceptionally well. These women have been showing up for everyone else while looking like the epitome of high-functioning, yet exhausted in a way that sleep cannot fix.

The strong black woman is not just a cultural icon but a psychological burden. Evidence shows black women often wait longer for care, minimize symptoms, and have their complaints dismissed by those meant to help. This is what the strong black woman role imposes.

Being high-functioning is not the same as being well. A woman can be high-functioning. A woman can have her stuff together. A woman can show up for everyone else. A woman can show up for everyone else even when she is completely unwell.

That’s not strength; that’s survival. And the body wasn’t built to survive forever.

This concept of the strong black woman also comes from a beautiful place. It’s a place of pride. It’s a place of women who have endured through systems designed to break us. It’s a place of love expressed through resilience. And it’s a legacy worth honoring.

But honoring this legacy doesn’t mean we continue to expect black women to require less, ask for less, and give more.

When strength is expected, not celebrated, there’s no room to be human. There’s no room to ask for help without being considered weak. Setting a boundary leads to being labeled difficult. There’s no freedom to say “I’m tired” without reminders of women who endured more.

And so black women continue to press on. They continue to press on until their bodies fail them. Until anxiety becomes deafening. Until depression makes it hard to roll out of bed in the morning. Until they end up in my office, telling me they have no idea how they got there.

I know how they got there. They were never given permission to not be okay.

This Women’s History Month, I want to do something different. I want to do more than simply celebrate black women’s endurance. I want to talk about what black women deserve.

You deserve to be cared for before a crisis.

• You deserve to rest without earning it.

• You deserve to ask for help and be met with support, not doubt.

• You deserve to prioritize your mental health not as a last resort, but as something you do because you matter.

Caring for your mental health is not a weakness. It’s one of the most courageous acts of self-love you can practice, especially when the world profits from Black women running on empty.

To the Black women reading this post today: Your wellness is not an afterthought. It’s not something you get to after everyone else is taken care of. It’s not something you get to when you’ve earned it by proving how much you can endure.

You are a whole person with a nervous system that needs rest. You are a whole person with emotions that need attention. You are a whole person with a body that needs to slow down.

The legacy of Black women is not just strength. It’s not just resilience. It’s not just survival. It’s wisdom. And part of that wisdom is knowing when to pour back into ourselves.

This month, I’m celebrating the whole woman. Not just what she carries around with her every day. Not just what she’s been shouldering without complaint. But what she deserves is to lie down.

A Moment for You: Reflection Prompts

Take a moment to sit with these questions. Grab a journal or the notes app on your phone. There are no right answers here. Just honest ones.

1. Where am I performing at a strength level instead of just being okay? What would that look like to put that performance down?

2. What’s one thing I’ve been putting off because someone else’s needs seemed more pressing than mine? What does it mean to take that need seriously?

3. When was the last time I did something that genuinely made me feel better, not just distracted me from how I’m feeling? What’s getting in the way of more of that?

4. What would I say to myself if I were as kind to myself as I am to the people I love most?

Tye Johnson, DNP, PMHNP-BC Founder, JMS Behavioral Health Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practitioner | Women's Mental Health Specialist