We are women, hear us roar.
Without saying it out loud, that’s the collective mantra for strong women. Women who empower other women. Women who speak their truth. Women who get s**t done. Women who hold down two jobs while juggling home life and returning to school at night to get her master’s degree. Some people might call her a superwoman.
I’m not comfortable with referring to women as ‘superwomen.’ It’s an outdated term that heaps enormous pressure on the backs of women who are otherwise ordinary women trying to succeed and make it from one day to the next.
Yes, women do amazing things. But to label us as superwomen, and expect us to do it with a smile on our face, is to impose demands on a daily basis that are ever-increasing. It also sets unrealistic expectations on women that can lead to burnout, especially among women in the Black/African American community.
When we continue to view a woman as “strong,” do we subconsciously believe that she never bends or, dare I say, break? Superwomen are resilient. Superwomen are determined. Superwomen keep their emotions in check. Superwomen hold it all together. And for superwomen, strength is a virtue.
However, just as those who are placed on pedestals for their courage, integrity or innovation are maligned when they fail in our eyes, so too does the women who has the giant “S” stamped across her chest when she forgets to bake cupcakes for the school fundraiser, or fails to complete a project at work, or gives a speech that falls flat on her audience.
Where did her strength go? Was it kryptonite that befell her? Will she be able to climb to those dizzying heights again and achieve magnificent feats of daring?
Who cares?!?
Women are tired – tired of being everything to everybody. Tired of putting everyone else’s needs before theirs. Tired of being the go-to person (“Give it to Jackie. She’ll get the job done like she always does.”). Tired of not being allowed to be a fallible human being.
Contrary to popular belief, we can’t do it all, all the time. We just can’t. We can’t succeed at everything. We can’t juggle a dozen balls in the air without dropping a single one. We can’t be that superwoman that society wants us to be. Our strength comes with a price. The expectation that we can is to our detriment. And does labeling some women as superwomen negate the qualities of other, not so ‘super’ women?
You’ll notice that throughout this writing, I’ve used the pronouns “we” and “us” because I count myself in this equation. And at times, some of the pressure to be that woman of strength comes straight from myself. Because I don’t want to let people down. Because I’ll admit I’ve been brainwashed to believe that I have to go-go-go and failure isn’t an option. Because I don’t want to show the world my weaknesses.
But the absence of strength doesn’t equate to weakness.
When we choose not be that superwoman, choose not to dangle by the cape of another superwoman, and choose to be real with ourselves – internally and externally – that counts for something. And sometimes being superwoman is too much.
We may be able to bring home the bacon, and on occasion we’ll fry it up in the pan, and we may even be able to never let him forget he’s a man, but sometimes all we really want to be is ourselves. Not superwoman.
Snatching off that cape and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, to own our imperfections and to not be judged or punished by them, and to know that it’s okay to be mere mortals — that to me is the real show of strength.
