Dear Black Women,
You good, sis? I know from experience that there is a cape hanging on your closet door. Albeit invisible, the cape is real and tangible. You inherited it, as it was folded into lullabies and “be strong, baby” quips, stitched with stories about your grandmother’s two jobs, your auntie’s church committee, and your mother’s, all too often, “I got it,” even when she didn’t. Somewhere between the group chat, the grocery store, the salon, leading the meeting, and leading prayer, the cape slid across your shoulders and started to feel like skin.
What we missed is that capes weren’t designed for everyday living. Not only do they snag on doorknobs and other things, but they also catch the wind when we’re trying to stand still.
Sis, this is your invitation to join me in taking the cape off. This is not forever, just now, just here. And to learn how to keep it off more often.
May you remember you were never built to be a bulletproof superheroine.
May your softness be a strategy and not a secret.
May your “no” make space for your yeses to feel like home.
May the people who love you learn to carry what is theirs.
May you lay the cape down and feel the air on your shoulders.
That feeling? That’s you. That’s enough.
With love in sisterhood,
Camille, your fellow cape wearer
The phrase “strong Black woman” is framed like a compliment, but it's actually a shortcut people use to keep from asking, “What do you need?” or “How are you doing?” Because of this, you may have been conditioned to anticipate every crisis, to volunteer before anyone else, or help without being asked. You carry the quiet parts of everyone else’s life. Over time, it begins to cost more than it gives: sleep you don’t get, ailments that surface, doctor’s appointments you postpone, resentment you swallow, joy you defer.
It also teaches people around you to stop learning basic care, assuming you’ll do it. The office leans on you for emotional labor. Family leans on you for everything else. Meanwhile, your body keeps the score: tight jaw, headaches, worsening ailments, the 2 a.m. awakening, followed by the scroll that isn’t rest but feels like the only thing you can do at that hour.
Taking the cape off isn’t quitting or giving up on anyone. It’s choosing to be a person who matters in the story..
Pick two or three of the following and try them this week.
Put a sticky note on your laptop that simply says: “Pause.”
The reflex to say yes is muscle memory. Interrupt it.
You don’t need new words every time; instead, use the same firm ones often. Save these in your Notes app. Copy and paste as needed.
List the tasks you do that no one sees: birthday gifts, appointment bookings, group texts, church announcements, onboarding the new hire, remembering who’s gluten-free. Put them in a shared doc or on the fridge. Then assign names and dates.
Two-Week Trial: For the next 14 days, every task must have an owner who isn’t you.
Create guardrails that say no for you:
Auto-reply windows: “I check email 9–4. If it’s urgent, call the office.”
Do Not Disturb: Schedule it nightly. Add favorite contacts who can break through.
Standing blocks: Schedule recurring “focus time” and “self-care hour” in your calendar, just like real meetings.
You don’t need one person who can do everything. You need different people for different needs. Keep a shared document including: names, numbers, allergies, school pickup details, so help doesn’t require a tutorial every time.
Practical trio: One for rides, one for meals, one for paperwork, and other detailed tasks.Sleep matters, but it’s not the only thing you’re missing. Pick one kind of rest per day. Put it on your calendar with a verb: lie down, look at the sky, breathe, be still. Try:
Sensory rest: Ten minutes with no notifications, no music, no talking.Decide in advance how many big yesses you can afford this month (work, church, school, community). Maybe it’s two. Maybe it’s one. Maybe it’s none!
When a new ask appears, check the budget. If you’re “spent,” the answer is easy. You must be fiscally responsible with your energy.
Guilt is a smoke alarm, not a judge. Ask: Is something actually burning, or is this just the alarm of a new boundary?
Write three “I choose” statements on an index card. Read them OFTEN.
Bodies like cues. Give yours one. Here are some examples:
Perfection isn’t the goal; recovery is.
Notice. “I’m back in hero mode.”And the world? It keeps spinning. The meeting ends. The family eats. The ministry continues. The myth that everything breaks without you begins to break instead.
I am passionate about serving clients in my community at Lifeologie Counseling Midlothian, where I offer psychodynamic therapy and psychological testing, and also lead a team of professional therapists with a variety of clinical specialties. Discover how to prioritize yourself and live the you deserve! Reach out and connect with me today at (214) 530-2335.