Everyone always has something to say about black women & our bodies.
From the perspective of a black woman who is tired of you mfs!
TikTok currently has a trend discussion of why black women are fat. The first thing that comes to my mind, especially as a big boned black woman, is why the fuck is that your concern?
This topic always brings me back to Sarah Baartman. I will educate you just in case you are unaware.
Sarah Baartman was a young Khoikhoi woman from South Africa, taken from her homeland in the early 1800s under the lie of “opportunity.” Instead, she was paraded across Europe like a sideshow attraction because of her body—her full hips, her curves, her features. White audiences ogled her, mocked her, and studied her like she was an object, not a human being.
And here’s the kicker—they didn’t just stop at humiliating her while she was alive. After she died, they kept her remains in a museum in France. Her body became a scientific “specimen.” Let that sink in. For over a century, this woman’s body wasn’t even allowed to rest. And you want to know why?
Because the Black woman’s body has never been allowed to just be.
People have always felt entitled to comment on, dissect, imitate, shame, or sexualize our bodies—often all at once. We’re either too much or not enough. They want our lips, our curves, our style—but not our humanity. Not our pain. Not our boundaries.
Sarah’s story isn’t just some dusty tale from the 1800s. It’s a reflection of how society still treats us. From medical neglect to media exploitation to everyday microaggressions, it’s always “what does her body say?” and never “what does her mind have to say?”
So yeah, I’m tired. Tired of the centuries-long obsession with controlling, defining, or profiting off our bodies. Sarah Baartman didn’t get the dignity she deserved in life or death. But if you’ve made it this far in listening, maybe—just maybe—you can do better by the Black women living today.
Start by seeing us fully. Not just when it’s convenient. Not just when it’s trending. Fully.
And since we’re here, let’s really talk about how the world treats Black women—because Sarah Baartman’s story ain’t some isolated incident. It’s a mirror. A warning. A reality that’s been repeating itself for generations.
Black women are the most disrespected, unheard, and unprotected people walking this earth. We’re expected to carry everyone else’s burdens, but when we speak—when we warn people—we’re ignored, ridiculed, or labeled as angry, bitter, too loud, too much.
We told y’all about R. Kelly.
We told y’all about the water in Flint.
We told y’all about medical racism.
We warned you about racism in your workplaces, in your feminism, in your activism.
And what happened? Silence. Gaslighting. Headlines that came too late.
We are the canaries in the coal mine, and instead of being listened to, we’re silenced—until the mine collapses and suddenly everyone wants to act like they care.
We’re expected to save the world and stay quiet doing it.
Expected to work twice as hard and smile through it.
Expected to bleed, birth, build, and still be overlooked.
Expected to shrink ourselves to make others comfortable.
And let’s not even get started on how our pain is downplayed, especially in healthcare. We say we’re hurting, and doctors assume we’re exaggerating. We express discomfort, and they write it off as stress. Even in childbirth, we’re dying at alarming rates because no one listens to us. Still.
Black women carry divine wisdom, deep intuition, and survival in our bones—but the world acts like it only values us when we’re entertaining, laboring, or being exoticized.
So yes, we’re tired. But don’t confuse our exhaustion with weakness.
We are not here for your convenience.
We are not your punching bag or your fantasy.
We are not the mules of the world, as Zora Neale Hurston once said.
We are truth-tellers, visionaries, protectors, creators, healers. And you’d do well to listen the first time we speak.
Because the next time? We might not be talking to save you. We might just be talking to each other.
