Who Protects Me?

Intersectional Femininity and Protection

As Black women, we wear our hair in protective styles. Braids, twists, and wraps to keep our hair protected from a variety of things; the weather, pillow cases, curious hands, heat, combs and brushes. This is because our hair is so delicate.

However, if you asked most people to describe the locs of Black women they would probably use words like coarse, thick, kinky –

never fragile, never delicate.

I’ve recently been discussing this with myself as a concept; the stark correlation between a Black woman’s ingrained compulsion to protect her hair and the ever-present requirement that we protect ourselves.

Because if you asked most people to describe the emotions/temperament/personality of a Black woman they would probably use words like coarse, strong, angry –

never fragile, never delicate.

Do you understand the greatness of the weight placed upon a woman who no matter where she goes or who she is with, knows that she must protect herself? Because no one will look at her and deem her either worthy of protection nor requiring of it.

Because the Black woman is strong, she is left to carry it all – alone.

When I walk into any space I am intimately and painfully aware that I am the only one in that space who sees me as someone needing protection. People look at my stoic face and see anger and hostility and respond with the same.

Yet never stop to question whether their assumptions of my intent and emotional state a have been placed upon me, by a set of eyes who only understand fragility through the lens of the dominate ethnicity.

So, we protect ourselves. Our hair, our minds, our ideas, our desires, our fears, our hearts, our mental health and well-being, our futures because we know that no one else will do this for us.

If you are reading, I ask you, to stop and think about the Black women you have interacted with.

Think about the times you decided their faces were showing anger, and question how many times that face was really shouting fear.

Think of the Black women whose ways of expressing emotions aren’t typical, and ask yourself how many times you decided you heard hostility, when in reality their mouth was singing pain.

This isn’t a request for a lack of accountability for how we speak to people.

This is an urge for us to stop deciding how we treat others based on our bias of who they are.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise to protect you.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise not to watch in silence while you are being broken down.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise to not only stand with you, but to stand in front of you when needed.

I will protect you.

Not because I am strong, but because I am ever so delicate and I understand the weight of loneliness in a world that does not value me fully.

Contact me if you need someone to talk it out with and I promise I will never gaslight you.

Contact me if you need to cc me into an email where you need to confront someone and you want them to know they are being held accountable.

Contact me if you want to talk to someone in person and you need support.

And if I fail you.

If I put my own pride above your protection, if I rest in my comfort and allow you to be mistreated.

Please, tell me. Call me out.

And I will apologize – and I won’t blame you for my actions - and I will do better for you.

You’re safe with me.

Krystal LoweJuly 27, 2021

Writer

Who Protects Me?

Who Protects Me?

Intersectional Femininity and Protection

As Black women, we wear our hair in protective styles. Braids, twists, and wraps to keep our hair protected from a variety of things; the weather, pillow cases, curious hands, heat, combs and brushes. This is because our hair is so delicate.

However, if you asked most people to describe the locs of Black women they would probably use words like coarse, thick, kinky –

never fragile, never delicate.

I’ve recently been discussing this with myself as a concept; the stark correlation between a Black woman’s ingrained compulsion to protect her hair and the ever-present requirement that we protect ourselves.

Because if you asked most people to describe the emotions/temperament/personality of a Black woman they would probably use words like coarse, strong, angry –

never fragile, never delicate.

Do you understand the greatness of the weight placed upon a woman who no matter where she goes or who she is with, knows that she must protect herself? Because no one will look at her and deem her either worthy of protection nor requiring of it.

Because the Black woman is strong, she is left to carry it all – alone.

When I walk into any space I am intimately and painfully aware that I am the only one in that space who sees me as someone needing protection. People look at my stoic face and see anger and hostility and respond with the same.

Yet never stop to question whether their assumptions of my intent and emotional state a have been placed upon me, by a set of eyes who only understand fragility through the lens of the dominate ethnicity.

So, we protect ourselves. Our hair, our minds, our ideas, our desires, our fears, our hearts, our mental health and well-being, our futures because we know that no one else will do this for us.

If you are reading, I ask you, to stop and think about the Black women you have interacted with.

Think about the times you decided their faces were showing anger, and question how many times that face was really shouting fear.

Think of the Black women whose ways of expressing emotions aren’t typical, and ask yourself how many times you decided you heard hostility, when in reality their mouth was singing pain.

This isn’t a request for a lack of accountability for how we speak to people.

This is an urge for us to stop deciding how we treat others based on our bias of who they are.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise to protect you.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise not to watch in silence while you are being broken down.

To all women, this is my whole-hearted promise to not only stand with you, but to stand in front of you when needed.

I will protect you.

Not because I am strong, but because I am ever so delicate and I understand the weight of loneliness in a world that does not value me fully.

Contact me if you need someone to talk it out with and I promise I will never gaslight you.

Contact me if you need to cc me into an email where you need to confront someone and you want them to know they are being held accountable.

Contact me if you want to talk to someone in person and you need support.

And if I fail you.

If I put my own pride above your protection, if I rest in my comfort and allow you to be mistreated.

Please, tell me. Call me out.

And I will apologize – and I won’t blame you for my actions - and I will do better for you.

You’re safe with me.