On Carefree Black Girls and Angry Black Women

Last week, I watched a performance poem on YouTube by Porsha O. titled “Angry Black Woman.” I was moved by her ability to so eloquently reclaim this term that is so often used to silence the pain and invalidate the experiences of black women. During her 3-minute recitation, Porsha revealed all the things that black women go through that make us “pissed the fuck off.” After snapping in agreement and sharing on all my social media, her words stayed with me. I couldn’t shake the idea that the reasons behind Porsha’s anger are not exclusive to her experience–all black women are subject to the racism and lack of power, control, and respect that she described in her poem. So why aren’t we all storming around scowl-faced and screaming?

The Angry Black Woman stereotype does more than make a mockery of black anger –it causes black women to ignore their anger as well for fear of being stereotyped. As early as the 1940s, this image of black women has been used to silence and oppress us. Carolyn M. West describes this stereotypical black woman as “Sapphire.” Sapphire was a character in the Amos ‘n’ Andy radio and television shows that personified the hostile, masculinized, nagging black woman that drives others away with her behavior. Over years, we have seen Sapphire change names and form, but the character traits are always the same. There is never consideration as to why the black woman has developed these traits or the overall injustice that she faces every day. Sapphire’s anger and attitude is seen as threatening and comical. In order to be taken seriously, black women let our anger fester inside so that we aren’t stereotyped. In order to be seen as feminine and desirable instead of threatening, we prohibit the expression of our feelings.

The silencing of black women’s anger could only last for so long. We would soon realize that ignoring the anger would not stop it from festering and feeding into the stereotype was an unhappy life to lead. We found new ways to deal with the injustice we face, most recently in The Carefree Black Girl. This answer to Sapphire wears her hair naturally curly, is always smiling, speaks her mind without fear, probably has a Tumblr, and defies social standards of blackness and womanhood. Think Willow Smith, Amandla Stenberg, and Rihanna. The Carefree Black Girl is able to feel both anger and joy, freely and shamelessly.

The very name of this trope preserves girlhood rather than forcing womanhood upon blackness. From very early on, black girls are denied our youth, compared to girls of other races, and put into boxes or what society expects us to be. When I was a pre-pubescent middle-schooler, I was called an angry black woman for speaking up. I was constantly reminded that the Spanish girls in my class were prettier than me because of their long straight hair and fair skin…That made me angry. I resented the black boys for teasing me for my outspokenness. I hated the Spanish girls for being more valued than I was. The pain of those years had lasting effects on how I viewed myself.

As a woman, I’ve learned how to maneuver a society that views black womanhood as ugly, invaluable, and masculine. I learned not to place my value in the hands of other people. I developed self-esteem that is unfazed by the opinions of others. In my growth, though, I had forgotten about the trauma that black girls go through–the exact trauma that I went through when I was a girl.

Last month, I led my first empowerment workshop for teenage girls using my book, The Womanifesto, as a guide. I talked to a group of about 20 black girls from the ages of 12-17 about the importance of affirmations, sisterhood, and self-improvement. I was overjoyed at the opportunity to be a force of information and inspiration for such a dynamic group of young girls. More important than what I provided for them, though, was the impact that their vulnerability had on me. Although most of them had only met me that day, they exposed both their flaws and fears to me. I was shocked and hurt by some of what they revealed.

When discussing self-improvement, one of the most common flaws they all admitted was a “bad attitude.” They talked about being mean to other people who “come at them,” being disrespectful so people don’t think they’re “a punk,” and “snapping” when triggered by other people. Some of these girls are only 12 and 13 years old. How could they, at such a young age, have developed this need to be so defensive and fearful of others opinions? I had been jaded by the idea of the Carefree Black Girl and forgot about the harsh reality of black girl anger.

Before we become angry black women, we are angry black girls. Looking in these girls’ eyes, I could see past the tough and angry exterior into the fear and hopelessness. Living in an inner city, with limited resources, sometimes in poverty, never being told that you are worthy and that your life is important is enough to make anyone angry. As a source of encouragement, of course I challenged them all to change their habits, not seek approval from others or be mean. But, I knew in my heart that it would not be easy for them to do. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them that it might not get easier, and they might have to get tougher.

Being a successful and happy black girl in America (and in most parts of the world), requires the ability to ignore and rise above the negativity being fed to you. Although you can’t always control your circumstances, you can always decide how to react. You can choose happiness and peace for your life. Hence, The Carefree Black Girl. In order to maintain our sanity, we have shunned western beauty standards, oppressive ways of thinking, and the shame of our own feelings. If you don’t care about what anyone else thinks of you, it’s virtually impossible to be hurt by them. Being a carefree black girl makes it easier to grow into a happy, confident, and self-sufficient black woman.

My interaction with the girls at my empowerment workshop reminded me that this ability to be a Carefree Black Girl is dependent on privilege. It is easy for me to say to them “Don’t place value on other people’s opinions of you” because I am privileged enough to have had a loving and supportive family that validates me. Although I felt ugly at school, I was privileged to have grown up in a house where I was told that my dark skin is beautiful and that no one’s opinion can change that. I have had opportunities to learn about, navigate, and dismantle racism, sexism, and the intersection of them both. I have had the opportunity of seeing societies where black women are supreme. So who am I to judge the coping mechanisms or to invalidate the anger of these girls’ whose lives and circumstances are not the same as mine?

There’s no right or wrong way to be a black girl or woman. We should all cope with this experience in the way that makes us most comfortable and happy. For women like Porsha O, expressing that anger verbally and reclaiming the Angry Black Woman is liberating. For Rihanna, not giving a fuck what anyone thinks and doing your own thing is liberating. The girls at my workshop are still trying to figure that out. Their anger is still festering and looking for a way out. My goal is to make sure that they know that their anger does not have to define or become them.

It is important that we teach black girls that they can be happy and that there are many ways to reach that happiness. It is important that we let black girls now that they are worthy and valuable and beautiful and important and talented, so that they don’t need change themselves to seek validation. It is important that we provide the tools for them to be happy and healthy women without being scarred by the experiences of their girlhood. We can no longer wait until they are women with unresolved emotion and misplaced anger.