In the wake of Donald Trump’s re-election, the collective sigh from Black women across America has grown into a resounding declaration: “Get someone else to do it.” We’re hanging up our Superwoman capes, choosing self-care over self-sacrifice. For centuries, we’ve been the backbone of this nation, stepping up, speaking out, and holding it down when nobody else would or could. But after generations of carrying everyone else’s burdens, we’re making it plain—we’re tired.
America has yet again shown its indifference to the needs, dreams, and voices of Black women. On. Nov. 5, we watched this country overlook the most qualified person to ever run for office, a woman of color renowned for her intelligence, poise, and empathy, and instead re-elected a convicted felon. It’s more than just a political letdown; it’s a slap in the face. This election didn’t just ignore us—it asked us to cheer on our own oppression. The message is painfully clear: our voices, sacrifices, and votes might build this nation, but they are rarely valued by it. And we’re done stepping in to save people who won’t lift a finger for us.
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Let’s talk about this so-called “strong Black woman” trope. It’s an image we didn’t ask for but have worn proudly because, quite frankly, we had no choice. Our resilience passed down from ancestors who fought, nurtured, and survived against all odds, has been mistaken for unbreakable strength. But here’s the truth: we are human, and we deserve rest, joy, and the chance to focus on ourselves, too. This isn’t selfish—it’s overdue. We’re still watching and caring about the issues that matter, but it’s time we cared about ourselves even more.
When this country needed a movement for abolition, we led. When the civil rights movement needed foot soldiers, Black women were on the front lines. When Black Lives Matter emerged, it was our voices calling for justice. When healthcare, education, housing, and human rights were under attack, we were there—rallying, protesting, organizing. But don’t expect us to show up for every cause or every rally anymore. No, we won’t be at your protests with the pink hats or the bracelets; we’re not giving up our precious time for a system that refuses to recognize our humanity. We’re brunching, planning vacations, trading TikTok recipes, and discussing self-care routines with our girls.
That’s not to say we aren’t watching. We see the audacity in these unqualified cabinet picks, and we remember the baseless criticism Kamala Harris endured. We’re used to being overlooked in favor of mediocrity. But the difference now? We’re choosing ourselves, not because we don’t care, but because America has shown it won’t care for us. When Maya Angelou said, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” she spoke for us all. And America? You’ve shown us. You’re about to f-around and find out what it’s like to go without the strength and selflessness of Black women.
This election drained the last bit of patience we had left. And while it’s tough to let go—after all, we are natural-born fighters—there’s something freeing about it, too. We’re stepping back, not out of bitterness, but out of necessity. If this country’s future feels uncertain, if the fight ahead looks daunting, don’t come knocking on our doors. We’re taking the next four years to focus on ourselves, care for ourselves, and live for ourselves.
For the past four hundred years, we’ve been America’s first responders, holding this country up even as it tries to hold us down. It’s high time we rested, refocused, and let America figure out how to handle its mess without us. Good luck, America. You’re going to need it.
