Stories for black women and girls matter. Growing up I didn’t see women who look like me on many book covers except for Toni Morrison’s books or Alice Walker.
They were a reflection of an era when Black women weren’t supposed to feel strong, confident or beautiful and certainly not in darker skin.
It’s why Claire Huxtable was iconic and Aunt Viv. Why seeing Tootie on the Facts of Life gave me hope. Many girls like me, searched the world for signs that we existed. That our presence was real. That our dreams, feelings, joys, pains, and our bodies – as they were – mattered. I, as that little girl who spent her formative years in the projects on Mount Hope Avenue in Rochester, NY dreamed. Whitney Houston made me believe that I, as a child, was the future and when I sang her song as a middle schooler to a nearly all white audience I wanted them to believe it too. To see me.
Like an Oreo in a Bowl of Milk
Spending my teen years in the Pittsburgh area I rarely saw myself reflected in the faces of anyone outside of my mother. I searched. I was arguably the best singer in my high school but when I auditioned for Annie as a sophomore and got chorus when freshmen got cast in roles, I decided not to do the show – opting for track and field. My junior year I was cast in the chorus and chosen as one of three girls to play streetwalkers in one scene of Guys and Dolls.
Being the Maid
My senior year I was cast in The Boyfriend…as Hortense…the French maid.
The school actually changed which play they were doing that year after auditions and I am fairly certain it was to avoid casting me in a role that had me partnered with someone else romantically as I was the only non-white in the production. Now you really see the irony of me playing the maid? I did it though, because I wasn’t going to be sidelined another year. I did it like all those who came before me who accepted the only roles they could, as drivers, cleaners, maids, etcetera. They knew they had to get in the door. I don’t think the director did this maliciously but I do think he bent to pressure.
The Opportunity and Burden
My years in that school district were interesting. I was everywhere, doing all the things. This was the same school that gave me an education and opportunities others would have paid heavily for. It taught me to show up in rooms where I was the only one. To walk in with grace and confidence. At a young age I learned how to listen and how to respond. I learned that certain things tipped the balance of comfort – like going from ten Blacks in the school to eleven one year, which led to the scrawling of the “n” word on my locker in eighth grade.
Learning to Be and Accepting the Burden
I paid attention. It was a must. I was aware that my Blackness was like an oreo in a big bowl of milk. I couldn’t be missed. In the back of my head, even at twelve, I remember thinking I may be the one. I may be the one that sets in motion what they think about Black people, how they see us. Why? Because when you are one of nine or ten in a school of 1200 you will be noticed.
Some of my Black friends tried to fly beneath the radar, but I couldn’t so I didn’t bother. I got every opportunity to do everything I wanted and I took it. For myself (because I don’t sit still well) and for them. Because one day when they were out in the world and encountered someone who looked like me, I wanted that first impression to be positive.
It’s not fair, I know. One person should never hold that burden, but we still do today. Black skin carries an unjust burden unlike White skin. Never would we see a White person commit a crime and equate their behavior to all White people. But we do it with Black people, all…the…time.
Representation in Stories
If we don’t make stories for black women and girls, there won’t be space for us in stories – without people going ape crazy over us being made into characters that don’t exist in reality anyway (a certain mermaid comes to mind).
All of this is to say, we need representation. Positive representation. Authentic representation. We need stories that remind us of who we are. This is especially true in a world that keeps trying to shape our image into something that suits an ulterior storyline where we are placed unfairly into the role of antagonist or sometimes into the role of sidekick.
Black Women Can Be Sheroes in Stories
We can be sheroes of stories too. In fact, every person can be, regardless of race or gender. I love how different and varied human bodies are created, from light to dark and hair straight to coily. It’s all beautiful. But in this lifetime I came in this feminine brown body so this is the body I’m experiencing the world through. I love this body. This skin. This hair. I love me.
And I have a daughter who grew up seeing herself more and more in the media and books as the years passed and believing, even if the world isn’t ready yet to believe with her. She now attends a college where she often walks into the room or down the hall with the feelings I had as a teenager. But, she knows she carries strength and a line of Black women who believe with and for her on this road with her!
Stories for Black Women Reflect and Inspire
I want all girls and women to see their beauty and strength reflected back at them. White women have had theirs reflected back and validated for a long time, but not girls with brown skin. I want girls and women who look like me to think to themselves that maybe they can do what feels like the impossible in their lives. Even if it’s not ending an intergalactic trafficking ring, defeating the darkness in another dimension, getting revenge using magic for the destruction of your home, or something else larger than life.
It could be the courage to step out of comfort, try something new, and push yourself to show up as the shero of your own life. It could be as simple as choosing something different for you and yours like in my play Soil.
That’s why stories for black women matter.
A Book for Every Woman
My next work, Tell Me, will be both poetry and a guide to love from the inside. It’ll be for all women because I believe this, that when women are alright, children, families, communities, and the world will be alright. Not because we’re doing it on our own.
No. We need balance, yin and yang. It’ll be alright because we will hold that nurturing, creative, and healing space that helps everyone else be alright while helping ourselves. When we love ourselves from the inside and deal with our ‘stuff’ we can be that safe womb the world needs.
The stories I’ve shared and wish to share whether on the page or the stage will support building up strong, emotionally healthy women and Black women. I hope you get one and share one. 💕
Support the Journey
If you want to support my creative journey buy a current book or a few. If you want to support the forthcoming poetry book Tell Me, you can make a donation through Cashapp ($BernetteSherman), Venmo (@BernetteSherman), or Paypal (paypal.me/mounthopemedia). Donations of $35 or more will get a signed copy of the book when it’s released, unless you tell me otherwise (or are outside of the continental US). Anyone donating at least $20 will get an eBook version.
What stories matter to you?
