I Put Away My Cape!

Every March, Women's History Month arrives, and with it comes a wave of well-deserved celebrations, well-meaning emails, speaking invitations, and social media posts featuring quotes from women leaders worldwide. It is truly a time to celebrate women and all that we have done to better the world that we live in. But while I’m committed to my community, I find myself caught in a familiar tension: being honored and exhausted, overwhelmed and excited, grateful and angry. Because from this vantage point, as a Black woman Executive Director, I feel that not enough has changed since last year’s WHM celebrations. So, it’s time for me to rest and let others take the weight of saving this country. 

As you may recall from last month's blog, we are in a political climate where Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) is under attack, inclusive education is being stripped from curriculums, and the very language of equity is being reframed as divisive. Still, I'm expected to show up and become a superhero for social justice and equality. 

This isn't new. Black women have long been asked to do the impossible: hold the line, hold the pain, lead the healing, strategize the next move, and still find the grace to make it all look effortless. We are organizers, protectors, fundraisers, storytellers, therapists, leaders, and visionaries—often all on the same day. And now, as DEI budgets are slashed and progressive rhetoric turns cautious, the calls for "your voice at the table" only grow louder. Everyone wants the Black woman ED with the PhD to weigh in on their issue and make them feel better about their actions (or lack thereof). While many others cower in fear, I am asked to put myself in harm's way. Again and again.

But what does it mean to be asked to lead during Women's History Month while systems are actively trying to silence my life's work?

• It means I am celebrated for my leadership but still underfunded.

• It means I am thanked for my resilience but not resourced for sustainability.

• It means I am asked to represent, speak, fix, and soothe—while being told DEI is too polarizing to mention in a grant application or on a presentation.

Let me be clear: Black women are resting. We no longer have the capacity, desire or fortitude to fix the world. Be it political, state, country-wide, or across the globe, we are taking a break. 

I am choosing honesty over performative celebration as we reach the end of this year’s Women’s History Month. I don't want flowers and features if they come without funding and real structural change. I don't want praise without partnership. I want transformation, not just temporary applause. I want to be heard, not listened to.

We continue to do the work because our communities deserve it. But I also want the world to know that this work takes a toll. And we are worthy of more than survival—we are worthy of thriving. 

I'm not a superhero. So, no, I didn’t put on my cape this Women's History Month. But I will continue to keep building power, truth, and care for the communities I serve as I rest, reflect, and recharge for the fight and journey ahead.
 

I invite you to do more than watch—pick up your piece of the work.