Every February, timelines fill with quotes.
Brands post black-and-gold graphics.
Universities host panels.
Corporations suddenly remember the words “diversity” and “equity.”
Every February, familiar actions repeat. Yet I observe a central issue: Black History Month is easier to celebrate than Black women’s lived experiences and achievements in real time.
That’s the conversation we keep avoiding.
We Love “Black Excellence” But Not Black Discomfort
Black History Month often highlights safe narratives: civil rights icons, polished success stories, and Black excellence presented in ways that are inspiring and easy to accept.
But when Black women express frustration?
When we critique systems?
When we demand structural change?
The applause gets quieter.
It is much easier to repost a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. than it is to address why Black women are still disproportionately underpaid. It is easier to celebrate Black entrepreneurship than to ask why so many Black women leave corporate environments due to burnout and lack of advancement.
We love Black excellence.
We struggle with Black honesty.
And that’s not empowerment, that’s selectivity.
The “Strong Black Woman” Trope Is Not a Compliment
Let’s talk about the strong Black woman trope.
We are praised for resilience.
Admired for endurance.
Expected to push through.
Expected to lead.
Expected to hold it all together.
But strength without support becomes exploitation.
Black women are often celebrated for surviving impossible circumstances, but rarely do we interrogate why those circumstances continue to exist. Why is our identity so closely tied to struggle? Why is our resilience romanticized instead of relieved?
During Black History Month, we pay tribute to the resilience and strength of Black women throughout history. But in the present day, many Black women are still navigating workplace bias, healthcare disparities, beauty standard politics, and leadership gaps.
Celebrating strength while ignoring the systems that require it is performative.
Performative Allyship Is Not Progress
Let’s address the corporate diversity elephant in the room.
Brands that post Black History Month campaigns do not always have Black women in executive leadership. Universities that host panels do not always protect Black women from discrimination. Companies that tweet solidarity statements do not always pay Black women equitably.
This is called performative allyship.
Aesthetic support without structural change.
And Gen Z, especially Black Gen Z women, are no longer impressed by symbolic gestures. We are the most educated generation of Black women in history. We are digitally connected. Politically aware. Economically ambitious.
We know the difference between visibility and power.
And visibility alone is not liberation.
Black History Is Still Being Written By Us
Black History Month should not only reflect on the past. It should interrogate the present.
Black women today are leading startups. Creating cultural trends. Dominating higher education enrollment. Shaping digital movements. Driving political conversations.
But we are also still fighting for safety, equity, and recognition in spaces that benefit from our labor more than our leadership.
That contradiction deserves attention.
Black History Month should not just make people feel inspired. It should make institutions feel accountable.
Celebration Without Accountability Is Branding
If Black History Month only feels celebratory, it’s incomplete.
Honoring Black women means:
- Protecting us in workplaces.
- Paying us equitably.
- Centering darker-skinned women in beauty campaigns.
- Funding Black-led initiatives year-round.
- Listening when we speak — not only when it’s comfortable.
Black history is powerful.
But Black women living in the present deserve more than applause.
We deserve alignment.
We deserve structural change.
We deserve support beyond February.
And that’s the real conversation.