Hold on, stop! Let me get a moment to myself.

Give me just a moment…. can I get a breather for myself?

Okay... okay, I got you after I get this for myself pleaseeee.

Strong. Black. Woman.

Those three words will be the death of me.

It is because of those three words that I can’t get no empathy.

Black women are seen as more threatening, more masculine, and less in need of help.

I need help! We need help! We are dying! Because of this permanent stereotype of the strong black women.

The stress of being a black woman in a white man's world is real.

So many sisters dying from heart disease it’s like we got the bad end of the new deal

The stress of having to remain silent when I should be screaming

Being constantly held back from achieving my goals and dreaming

The stress of being sick and no one knows, because I refuse to be an inconvenience the next

Instead of rushing to the hospital I cling on to my religious text

The stress of carrying everyone else when I barely have the energy to carry myself

I am expected to make a way out of no way and be the ultimate sacrifice

As a black women, as a Christian women, we're taught that taking care of our own health is selfish.

To put myself first will label me as rebellious and hellish.

Well so be it.  

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country


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