Sister Spirit…Marriage – The Strong Black Woman
Couture Cosmetics…”Changing Our World Beautifully One Woman At A Time!”
There is a new book out called, “Fierce Angels” by Sheri Parks. The discussion of the book surronds the topic of the Strong Black Woman in American Culture. While we are trying to secure an interview with Ms. Parks I will refrain from rendering an opinion on the outcome of the books merits. I would strongly suggest that all black women read the book. One of the issues we are tackling this month in April’s issue of E’LON Couture Magazine is something that comes in direct contradiction to the Strong Black Woman syndrome. First of all we know this image of the strong black woman. We see her nightly portrayed on American television sitcoms and reality television shows. She is protrayed as sassy, loud, brash, can take anything with her head moving from side to side, her hand on her hip and her finger wagging in your face. But is she really this lady? We have referred to her as ‘Big Mama”, Madea, Mother Dear and all sorts of names.
So why is it our daughters and sister friends who happen to be plus size often don’t see this image of this strong black woman as worthy of their own self-confidence. What messages are we giving our girls? Are we saying to them that all Big Mama’s wear head rags like Hattie McDaniel in Gone With The Wind… or have sagging boobs like Tyler Perry’s version of Big Mama in all of the Madea movies and plays? We have this sad ability to create mixed messages for ourselves while we let other people define the idea and concept of beauty and strength for us.
When do we get to define our own beauty and our own strength? I for one am neither loud, wear a head rag (at least not in public), place my hands on my hips or wag my finger. But I am strong. I am strong because I cry, I laugh, I love and I feel. I am strong because I look in the mirror and I really love the girl looking back there and I tell her so every single day. I love my weaknesses as well as my strengths. I love my nappy hair, and my blackness. I am strong because my mother was strong (oh yes I saw the woman put the end of a pointed umbrella to the throat of a racist white bus driver who would not let me on and threaten him with bodily harm if I did not make it back to Tennessee State in one peice). That’s strength!
In my world , the strong black women I know are not afraid to be caught crying, nor reluctant to wipe the tears of their friends. They know that real strength comes not from denying one’s humanity but from embracing it. My mother taught me what strength was and is. She showed me that beauty comes from the same place strength comes from – deep within. Within me is a place that not another human being can define. Its that place that gives me strength, courage, faith to be who and what I was put here to be. That’s my image of a strong, black woman.
To all my strong, beautiful plus size sisters – know your own strength and pull from the strength of those Big Mamas gone by - and remember they were always only portrayed in the way that others wanted to define their beauty.
Sisterly,
Yolanda
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