Black Women Deserve Safe Spaces - And I'm Claiming Mine

The news has always been a source of fear and negativity, but lately, it’s been extremely triggering – especially for black women. We’ve seen stories about Diddy and Cassie, Halle Bailey and DDG, Megan the Stallion and Tory Lanez, Teyanna Taylor and Iman Shumpert, Keke Palmer and Darius Jackson – and these are just the famous people. There are countless more stories of black women whose names were never in lights. The videos and court documents being released to the press have been triggering for many of us who know too well the fear and trauma these women must be feeling. It feels like the world isn’t listening, and even when we speak up, we’re blamed for our own pain.

As a young girl, I was taught that abuse was normal. For most of my life, I couldn’t remember much of anything under the age of 13. I thought this was normal, too. But one spotty memory I have from when I was 10 was watching my mom be abused by her boyfriend. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was something I didn’t want for myself. But it was ever present in my life. When I was 11 years old, I was punched in the face by a boy because I wouldn’t agree to be his boyfriend. When I was 18, I was followed home by a group of guys because one was upset that I wouldn’t give him my phone number. When I was 19, I was attacked while on crutches by a family member while other family members watched. It was clear to me at a young age that I was not safe in my body and that nobody would have my back. 

I wish I could say that those were my only experiences with physical, emotional, and financial abuse. Those were my introduction into what would become decades of seeking healing and safety all while trying to be a safe space for four humans. Not an easy road to walk to say the least, and I beat myself up and made mistakes along the way. I learned that you could offend people by having boundaries and asking to be treated with respect. I learned to protect those who weren’t concerned at all with protecting me. I learned that although physical abuse is terrible, it’s not the worst. Bruises heal, but the internal scars and confusion that comes from emotional and psychological abuse can take lifetimes to correct. Some of the worst pain I’ve endured didn’t come from hits – it came from being gaslit, manipulated, and told that my pain wasn’t real.

Blogging has done something for me that years of therapy and private journals haven’t been able to do. It helped me gain the confidence to tell my story. It helped me to allow myself to be seen, flaws and all. It helped me with every comment and conversation that I’ve received from readers who gave shared my experiences. I’ve come to realize that my pain is not isolated – it's part of a larger, systematic issue. Reclaiming my voice gave me healing and power. When I started blogging, something shifted. I stopped shrinking. I started seeing that I wasn’t alone. And I realized how healing it is to speak your truth, even when your voice shakes. 

To all the black women who are triggered and hurting right now, i want to speak to you directly: You are not crazy. You are not too sensitive. You are not alone. I want to encourage you to trust yourselves, even when others want to convince you not to. Remember that not all love is safe, and your body and mind always let you know, even when you want to rationalize with yourself. As much as your pain and past experiences may have you wanting to shut down, know that safe, kind men do exist – but the most important safety starts within YOU. You don’t have to carry the weight of silence. You are not here to fix broken men (or the women who enable and agree with them) or prove your worth to those who refuse to see it. You deserve protection, love, and peace – especially from yourself. 

Today, I’m thankful to know that it’s possible to have a partner who listens and provides a safe space. I’m happy that my healing journey continues to show me what’s possible. It’s been a journey, and healing is slow, but it’s real. It’s okay to heal on MY timeline. I used to think that safety didn’t exist for me – but now, I know it does. I’ve found safety in myself. In my voice. In love that listens. And that’s what I want for every woman reading this.

I challenge any and everyone to define what safety means for you and KNOW that it’s possible.