“Help me.”
It was a simple request from a friend, but it stayed with me for months.
We were in a crowded market, overstimulated by the heat and the noise, when things took a turn. Within seconds, a henna artist had taken my friend’s hand, ignoring her refusal, and began a design she didn’t want. When the artist demanded an inflated price, my friend turned to me and said, “Help me.”
So I stepped in. I negotiated. I resolved the situation.
From the outside, it looked like strength.
Inside, it was survival.
I’m beginning to understand that for many Black women, strength is not a choice — it is an assignment. And capes are heavy.
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In my latest Substack essay, I explore the hidden fatigue beneath the Strong Black Woman label, why “you’re so strong” is rarely a compliment, and what it means to choose self-loyalty over performance.
This is a reflective piece — for those who have always been the strong one, and for those who have relied on them.
Read the full essay on Substack
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Koya Nkrumah 