THE BLACK FEMALE TROPE VOL. II
Black women and the thin line between strong and angry
This article is the second in the series of ‘The Black Female Trope’. In this series, I reflect on the three stereotypes Black women have historically been reduced to: Mammy, Jezebel, and Sapphire. The series is inspired by the research of Melissa V. Harris-Perry and her book Sister Citizen. Find the first article here.
Strong is one of the most common words used to describe Black women. Another word used to describe them: angry. But there is more behind those two simple adjectives that have now been upgraded to stereotypes used to describe Black women. ‘Strong’ and ‘angry’ are loaded words when they are used for referring to Black women. Are Black women as strong as they are told to be, and are they as angry as they are perceived?
In my previous article I analysed the Mammy myth. The first stereotype of my ‘Black female trope’ series. The Mammy myth reduces Black women’s skills and desires to domestic work. This stereotype limits them to a role that serves other people’s interests, and doesn’t reflect their own experiences. In this article I reflect on the second stereotype assigned to Black women, which is probably the most pervasive one: The Sapphire myth, also known as the ‘Angry Black woman’.
As part of my research I interviewed my sister whom I consider a strong Black woman, but who often is described as angry. She is just a normal person hanging on to her strength as a way to cope with the challenges that come with being a Black woman with a voice and something important to say.
Stereotypes like the Mammy, Sapphire, and Jezebel (next article) are important to reflect upon, and to challenge, because they are powerful tools used to shape how Black women see themselves. They are social mechanisms used for perpetuating inequality. Some of them may be meant positively, and others are used out of ignorance. But when it comes to inequality, exclusion, and oppression, intent has nothing to do with impact. And impact is what actually counts.
Strong is beautiful but also dangerous, to Black women
Black women have needed to be strong in order to drive change and social justice. Different movements for social equality have been powered by Black women working as servant leaders. Doing a lot of the work, and getting little (or none) of the credit. They have needed their strength to cope with the racism in the world and within the women’s movement; and with the sexism within the black community.
Examples like Sojourner Truth who was fighting for the right to vote just a few years after being free from slavery; and Harriet Tubman who lead the underground railroad in the fight for abolition; and Ella Baker and Dorothy Heigth who were long time activists for the civil rights movement. Or even in recent years, movements like Me Too, Black Lives Matter or Transgender rights have all been lead by Black women. They need this strength to manage the disadvantages that come when standing on the ‘wrong’ side in the intersection between race and gender.
Even though ‘strong’ sounds like a positive way to describe Black women, it can be a double edged sword. That is why it is good to give it a closer look to where this strength is coming from and why it is that Black women need to hold on to it so much.
Strong Black women are characterised by being smart and sacrificial. They have an unbreakable spirit, and are prepared to do anything for their community. They are motivated, hard-working, and a source of support to their family. They are the type of women that can stand all kinds of tribulations and come out even stronger from them.
The Strong Black woman myth may look good on movies and tv shows, and it may also serve to inspire each other. But in reality, this myth has contributed to make Black sisters sicker, unhappier, and more exhausted than any other group.
However, the Strong Black woman is another misrecognition of Black femininity. This stereotype does not arise from who they are, but from what they are expected to be in their communities. It is another narrow way to frame them in service of others. It creates expectations on their behaviours, and puts the blame and the responsibility on them to get ahead. This stereotype fails to see the political, economic, and social system that is designed to exclude them.
Behind their strong facade, Black women are suppressing their emotional needs, by prioritising and anticipating those of others. Being strong leaves them little room to make themselves the priority. The ‘strength’ myth ends up denying Black women the right to be sad, to be down, or to be broken. They are expected to be self-reliant, while battling the lack of personal, social, and economic resources available to them. As Melissa V. Harris-Perry puts it: “it over emphasises the role of the individual in life outcomes” and leaves out that Black women are actually managing to stand straight in a crooked room.
The Strong Black woman myth may look good on movies and tv shows, and it may also serve to inspire each other. But in reality, research shows that this myth has contributed to make Black women sicker, unhappier, and more exhausted than any other group.
The nineteenth-century poet Paul Laurence Dunbar already saw how Black people, and Black women in this case, had to hide their thoughts and emotions as a way to protect themselves. In this tendency of stereotypes made to suppress Black women’s emotions, there is one that is not denied to Strong Black women: anger.
The Sapphire myth makes Black women responsible for a power they don’t possess
Her eyes are wide open and her eyebrows up. She is independent, hostile, and rarely shows any sign of empathy. She jabs her finger, and moves her head while speaking loudly. She is trying to make a point. You know the stereotype. If not, a quick google search will probably show you enough recognisable images of Black women being out of control. Researchers of the Black woman experience have named this stereotype: the Sapphire. The internet calls it the angry Black woman.
‘Anger’ is considered another characteristic of black femininity. It’s part of the narrow view society seems to have of black womanhood. This stereotype comes in three flavours: 1. The bad Black woman; 2. The Black ‘bitch’; and 3. The emasculating matriarch. All three of them oppressive, playing a role in silencing Black women’s voices and invalidating their experiences.
Black women’s passion and commitment is often read as irrationality, anxiety, and hostility. They are discouraged from demanding equality, they silence themselves, and make themselves invisible in the name of being perceived as professional or calm.
There is not a lot of research available about this stereotype. Black feminist scholars M. Morgan and D. Bennet argue that this is because we have all assimilated that ‘anger’ is “an essential characteristic of Black femininity regardless of the other stereotypical roles Black women may be accused of occupying”. However, Black women don’t perceive themselves as angry. There is a clear mismatch between the way they see themselves, and how the world sees them. This mismatch has other consequences.
Anger strikes fear in people and damages your reputation. In his book “What got you here won’t get you there” Marshall Goldsmith mentions that once a “manager gets a reputation for emotional volatility he is branded for life”. He has a good point there, but in his ‘white-boy-going-for-the-c-suite’ book, he doesn’t stop to think: what if you are tagged as ‘angry’ even before you enter the room?
Black women’s passion and commitment is often read as irrationality, anxiety, and hostility. This stereotype is so powerful that Black women trying to avoid being seen as a Sapphire end up giving in on their needs, or put themselves in the background. They are discouraged from demanding equality, they silence themselves, and make themselves invisible in the name of being perceived as professional or calm.
The hidden danger of the angry Black woman stereotype is that it makes them responsible for a power they don’t possess in reality. It puts the blame and the responsibility on them, without considering the double oppression of sexism and racism which they have to navigate.
My sister Ally, has always been strong and fearless, but it came with a price
If you ask my sister to describe herself she will say: smart, brave, and strong. If you ask her how she thinks people would describe her, it would be: firm, knowledgeable, and opinionated. She has gotten used to this image and by now is embracing it.
Growing up Ally didn’t believe herself to be pretty. She was no boy’s romantic interest and that meant that early on she had to define her worth in a way that other girls didn’t even think about. From an early age she decided that she was going to be smart. She empowered herself to learn and spent more of her childhood among books than among people. Her knowledge is an important part of how she sees herself and determines her self-worth.
Her first years out of Law school with no professional network or family connections to open doors for her meant that she had to go out and promote herself. She got tired of being rejected for every job interview she went to in the city, especially as in some of them she noticed their racism just while waiting to enter the interview. She decided to move to a small town where she was able to be a lawyer. This was a difficult step for her, and also for my mother to see. After all, we had moved from such a small town to the city to have more opportunities, and going back to a small town felt like a step backwards. Ally held on to her bravery and strength to make the difficult decision between doing a clerk job in the city or being a lawyer in a small town. During her years in the small town she also followed different studies and even got two Masters, with honours.
After more than five years in the town she moved to the city to what she thought was her dream job. There she had to relearn how to cope with racism in the corporate world. From colleagues thinking that she was working in the kitchen to getting her hair straight and dressing up every day to play a role, even if that meant killing her feet with high heels. She soon realised that her image was as important as her content. “If I don’t watch how I look and how I sound my opinion would not even be heard” she said. She knew she had a strong character, so she had to learn to manage her behaviour so that she wouldn’t sound angry or hostile. Even if she didn’t mean it that way, she knew people would be quick to put her in the ‘angry Black woman’ box if she was not extra careful. But being always aware, always ready, always perfect took a toll on her.
She held herself to a high work standard and showed her worth to the company. However, instead of valuing her contribution and promoting her, she was made responsible for more work, which led to physical and mental health issues. Ally has been working hard her whole life, she has been obsessed with proving people who didn’t believe in her wrong. She has taken on more work than what anyone can take. “At this point”, she says, “I think I have the cognitive ability to do it, but not the physical”. After being diagnosed with a burnout Ally brought this information to her company, but they told her she was just “anxious”. So she had to keep going. A few months later when a white colleague was also burned out, the company started to pay attention to her claims. By then, my sister knew she was exhausted and couldn’t take it anymore. She was on the way out. She needed to put herself first. It was their loss.
Ally’s learning from her experience is that when you are a Black woman and your father is not Barack Obama, you better learn to be strong, brave, and resilient. Learn to adapt to any circumstance and don’t forget to be yourself. Learn to evolve while loving the person that you are. That is what she is learning right now.
Listening to my sister’s experiences and views on life, while at the same time doing the theoretical research for this article, I learned that she is not alone. Being strong may be seen as a more positive and socially acceptable way to channel the perception of anger in the Sapphire stereotype, but it is still a dangerous myth making our Black sisters sick.
Black women’s work for social equality has been relentless. But, what have they gotten in return? Reductionist labels like ‘angry’, ‘Sapphire’, and ‘matriarch’ that aim to invalidate their experiences, and to suppress their ambitions. It is not up to Black women only to reject these imposed stereotypes which don’t do justice to their experiences.
But, even if Black women were indeed angry, can anger not be a legitimate reaction to the inequality and disadvantage they always seem to run into? It seems like all it takes to invalidate their message is for them to speak one octave higher than it is expected. Paraphrasing James Bladwin, Black women may or not be angry, but if they were it seems to me they have good reasons for it. It feels like this sexist and racist lack of empathy towards them leads to the naive assumption that there are no reasons for them to be angry.
