Strength and resilience are often applauded in our society. After all, possessing fortitude is sometimes the only way to power through adversity, an inevitable part of life. But what happens when the pressure becomes too much, and our own endurance runs us into misery? Does the need to “tough it out” do more harm than good for our physical and mental well-being?
In the United States, this societal expectation of strength is prevalent among Black women. Researchers have identified a phenomenon known as the “Strong Black Woman” (SBW) schema, where Black women are portrayed as, and expected to be, strong to a superhuman degree. This stereotype has often been internalized by Black women themselves. In a qualitative study of African-American women’s perceptions of strength, sociologist Dr. Tamara Beauboeuf-Lafontant observed two core elements: “hardship as a cornerstone of Black womanhood” and “the intensification of feminine demands to be selfless caretakers of others.” While the SBW schema can be seen as an affirming testament to Black women’s resilience over the centuries, attributing superhuman strength to Black women was historically used to justify their dehumanization and undermine their right to well-being.
As a neuroscience major, while researching the mechanisms and effects of stress, I encountered a disturbing statistic: Black women suffer heart attacks 32% more often than white women. Granted, stress was not the only underlying risk factor at play. Still, Dr. Beauboeuf-Lafontant’s interviewees emphasized the role of stress in eroding their well-being, with one of them describing the expectation to hold in intense feelings as “a time bomb waiting to go off.”
These consequences of forced resilience have also been found to wreak havoc on mental health, particularly in the Black community. For example, postpartum depression—a serious and long-lasting condition that can persist for weeks, months, or even a year after giving birth—affects 1 in 7 mothers in the US and has been found to increase women’s risk of suicidal behavior threefold. However, in a study by Kaiser Permanente involving over 400,000 pregnancies, Black women experienced a 140% increase in rates of postpartum depression from 2010 to 2021, compared to 37% for white women. And yet, Dr. Tamara Nelson and her colleagues at Rutgers University find that Black women are only one-fourth as likely to participate in mental health counseling. While the researchers cite lack of access to mental health care during the perinatal period—largely resulting from structural inequalities—as a significant risk factor for Black women, they also point to cultural mistrust, the perception of mental health treatment as “inadequate, unhelpful, and culturally insensitive,” and the SBW schema as factors that can lead African-American women to delay treatment until symptoms become severe. Thus, even though Black women are more likely to suffer from postpartum depression, they are often more hesitant to seek care. Their reasons for doing so, including the Strong Black Woman stereotype, ultimately stem from systemic racism and pervasive discrimination within the healthcare system.
These elevated rates of depression among Black women and lower rates of seeking mental health care are part of a global pattern. In Canada’s first national health survey for Black women and girls, the Black Women’s Institute For Health reports that the pressure to remain strong often leads Black women to delay care, push through exhaustion, and suffer in silence to avoid being seen as weak. Similarly, Dr. Amma Yeboah and Dr. Felicia Lazaridou have found that Black women in Germany often avoid seeking mental help until reaching a crisis point because “they do not expect to be humanized by practitioners in mainstream services who, for the most part, are perceived as an extension of a White system.” As a result, Black women often experience a “double burden,” from health services and from their own communities. Both of these sources of pressure continue to uphold the Strong Black Woman paradigm.
It is clear that the SBW schema plays a role in eroding Black mothers’ mental health and stigmatizes the act of seeking help. Of course, systemic issues that restrict access to care, such as poverty, underinsurance, low educational attainment, and geographical and time constraints, complicate this picture. Still, Dr. Beauboeuf-Lafontant’s study participants underscored the need for Black women to constantly appear strong as a factor preventing them from seeking and receiving treatment. For example, one of the women interviewed said her own mother always maintained a certain “decorum” and “outward togetherness,” and that “even if inside, she’s conflicted or she’s having a nervous breakdown or she’s depressed or anxious … nobody else knows.”
Equating strength with bearing one’s burdens alone and in silence means that seeking mental health support becomes a sign of weakness. In all these contexts, the message seems to be: suffer in isolation, but put on a brave face for those around you. So what’s the solution?
What if we make strength a community affair, and reaching out, an act of strength? The Black Sister Circle initiative in Brooklyn, New York, is a model of this idea in action. Rooted in exploring identities, deconstructing stereotypes, and honoring emotions, Black Sister Circle (BSC) unites teen girls to build an empowering sisterhood. It encourages them to lean into their shared history and present sociopolitical issues and celebrate every aspect of who they are. With workshops such as “Nourish: Mind, Body, and Spirit,” it’s affirming to see young women of color prioritizing mental well-being and self-care over antiquated ideas of strength, especially after centuries of being told they must be strong. Mothers and daughters alike have applauded the power of BSC in creating a safe space where members can trust one another and find the courage to speak openly about their experiences. Through their focus on mental and emotional well-being for young Black women, organizations like BSC work to dismantle the traditional notion of strength as an individual ordeal, replacing it with an uplifting, community-minded approach that will benefit generations to come.
As an aspiring mental health professional and researcher, I see tremendous potential in such community-oriented solutions for coping with the daily stressors of life. By demolishing the stigma of weakness around seeking help, we can rework the idea of strength itself, transforming it from an individual, isolated, miserable pursuit into a collective endeavor that draws on the strength of the community.