Hanging Up That Superwoman Cape

A former cosmetology student sent me a picture that had me reflecting about where my life was 3 years ago and it brought me to tears. My students lived for an off-guard moment when they could catch me doing something that would make them laugh. I fell asleep at a hair dryer during one of their instruction periods. My weight was at the highest it had ever been and I was extremely tired; I was a whopping 250lbs. Being a full-time public school teacher was not an easy job. Neither was dealing with the demands of the job while balancing life as a part-time college student and I did this all while working in and managing my hair salon. Saying all of that just made me tired again. Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I did it.

My personal life was somewhat neglected as I tried to meet the needs of my professional life. Six months into my new job and I wanted to quit. Being an educator was much more than just teaching a subject to my students. Being an educator was more about character building with 20 plus lives everyday and teaching them life skills, lessons on accountability and appropriate behavior. I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I am not a quitter so I kept going. I think that “not a quitter keep going” mentality has unfairly serviced me my whole life.

After the age of ten, I rarely saw my mother cry – not even when my dad died. She just sucked it all up and kept on going. She was left to raise 5 children alone; she always seemed annoyed and frustrated. I used to think that my mother lacked the maternal gene because she was not a coddling woman. She never allowed her children to have pity parties. She was a get up and get over it kind of woman. She did not ask for help and she never waited on anybody to do anything for her. The one time that I came home from school and told her that there were some girls that didn’t like me, she damn near bit my head off and said, “So what, you are not there to make friends. You are there to get an education. They talked about Jesus and they are gonna talk about you”. I said, but they act like they want to fight me and she said, “If they touch you, fight back and be crazy. Everybody wants to fight bad, but no one wants to fight crazy.”

Surely I was not on the same level as Jesus so I had to suck it up and deal with it, but if I had to be Peter and cut someone’s ear off she gave me her full permission to do so. I had no time for tears either. Crying was for weak ass women. I lived my entire life by that mantra…no pity parties, suck shit up and keep going, fight, be crazy if you have to and crying was for weak ass women.

Many nights I would not get home until close to midnight only to grade papers and get up at 6am and do it all over again. I was running on fumes, but I sucked it up and I kept on going. It was so frustrating. I helped everybody, but why wasn’t anyone offering to help me? It’s because I had created this fictional “Superwoman” character that I had been taught to live by. The woman who carries it all on her shoulders and doesn’t need any help. A woman who shows no signs of weakness and never cries, but is angry and misunderstood. She’s angry because she expects people to see her self sacrificing deeds and want to voluntarily help her, but they don’t.

Black women have a lengthy history of secretly carrying the burden of traumatic and harmful experiences from childhood into adulthood and from generation to generation. Yet, we are always pushed to be resilient and to survive in silence. The mentality that Black women are naturally strong and should continue to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps with a smile is harmful, according to Ebony Magazine article “Put Down Your Cape: Solving the Black Woman Syndrome” My mother didn’t know it, but she was raising me to be an angry Black woman with a Superwoman Syndrome to suffer in silence.

When all hell broke out in my life and I began my divorce process, I had what I felt was an anxiety attack while at work in the salon. For a moment, the earth stood still and I couldn’t breathe. I felt a heaviness in my chest and I heard voices, but they were far away. I felt dizzy like I was going to pass out. I threw my combs across the room, walked into my office, slammed the door and cried like a baby. One of my aunts happened to be in the salon that day. She walked into my office and began to rub my back and said, “I’m canceling out your book today and you are going to sit your ass down and rest”. She told me to cry and let it all out for however long it takes. She told me that my family had my back and that I didn’t have to carry this weight all by myself. She encouraged me to surround myself with my sisters and sister girlfriends and to get a good male friend that was going to hold my hand and walk with me through this process. I’m so glad I took her advice because that day changed my life.

I took off my Superwoman cape, hung it up and left it my office. Like a 12-step program, I’m now transparent with my weaknesses. I’ve realized that there is power in surrendering. I know that God uses you best when you are broken. I am healing and for the first time in a long time I have peace.