The 'Strong Black' Mask — Permission to Heal
We were praised for enduring. But who holds us when we are tired? This is a space to put the mask down.
So many of us were raised to be strong — the strong Black woman, the hard Black man who does not cry. That strength kept our people alive through unimaginable hardship, and we honor it. But armor worn too long becomes a cage. Behind the mask, many are exhausted, anxious, and grieving in silence. Here is your permission slip: you are allowed to be soft, to rest, to ask for help, to heal. Tell us — what does the mask cost you? What would it look like to lay some of that weight down?
2 Voices in the Circle
The mask cost me my marriage and nearly my health. I was everyone's rock and no one's soft place. Reading this thread and finally exhaling. Thank you for the permission slip.
As a man I was taught tears were weakness. First time I cried in front of my sons I apologized. My oldest said 'why are you sorry?' Kids already know what we forgot. Laying the weight down, one day at a time.