Trauma Down the Timeline: Part 1

During slavery, Black women were forced to witness the breaking of the Black man, the selling of Black babies, and the stripping of their bodily autonomy. They found themselves in a precarious position where they were perceived as less threatening than Black men and more valuable than Black children. Therefore, they were in the best position to sacrifice themselves to shield both. (excerpt from HTABW)

The rape of the Black woman during slavery was seen as a central part of the slave economy, as she was the producer of future labor. She was the most vulnerable and valuable group, solely responsible for supplying the slave workforce.

It is a challenge to recognize the pervasive wounding and trauma that resides in the DNA of Black women because they have been conditioned to hide their feelings as both a coping mechanism and a survival tactic.

“Black women were a commodity as breeders, laborers, and concubines”

So profitable were her offspring that even the medical community took an interest in her womb, her body a channel by which profit was delivered. Medical procedures were not done for the benefit of the Black woman but to protect or increase the slaveholder’s economic interest and improve the physician’s skill.

Much like today, medicine and capitalism worked in concert and by doing so further bolstered the institution of slavery. In addition, these atrocities perpetuated even more harm by rationalizing the barbarism with invective and propagating the myth that Black women were impervious to pain.

“The black female body was further hypersexualized, masculinized, and endowed with brute strength because medical science validated these ideologies” (Owens, 2017, p. 44).

Although the current conditions of Black women are not quite so dystopian, it is abundantly apparent that their plight is uniquely singular. From women’s suffrage to race equality, the Black woman found herself at a crossroads, an intersection that left her without an ally when her specific needs were eclipsed by the interest of those with more privilege, namely Black men and White women.

A historical lack of bodily autonomy in conjunction with a need to be “strong” and hide or otherwise minimize their pain has created a group of women who are tragically detached from their suffering, limiting their capacity to heal. Although slavery came to an end, the abuse, unfortunately, did not. As Malcolm X said in 1964…

“Black women continue to be the most disrespected, unprotected, and neglected people in America.”

The institutionalized rape of Black women that went unchecked during slavery, coupled with demeaning stereotypes formed centuries ago that persist to this day, have made a lasting impression on our society. This legacy has led to the minimization and rationalization of sexual violence against Black women, mainly by people they know.

Despite the considerable rate of sexual assault among Black women and the consequential adverse mental health effects, Black women are less likely to disclose experiences of sexual assault and receive less support when they do disclose. They are even less likely to disclose when the perpetrator “looks like them.”

It is common for Black women to be told, implicitly or explicitly, that they should “hold it down” for Black men by shielding them from entanglements with the criminal justice system. These cultural considerations can be a significant deterrent and detriment to the healing process of the victims.

Racial loyalty is a Black woman’s decision “to withstand abuse and make a conscious self-sacrifice for what she perceives as the greater good of the community but to her physical, psychological, and spiritual detriment”

Expectations in the Black community have many Black women feeling that they must constantly put other people’s needs before their own, including those of their Black abuser.

Coping skills that were once critical to survival have now become barriers to joy.

This isn’t an attempt to throw Black men under that bus, it is simply a willingness to look at the facts. Facts that also include the grooming and manipulation of Black boys typically at the hands of older Black women, which will be discussed in Part 2.

No, this is about cultural responsibility. This is taking ownership of our “right now reality” while processing the pain of our past. This is about personal and communal accountability.

No one is coming to save us. Therefore we must save ourselves, that starts with acknowledging that there is a need for saving and that we are worthy of being saved.

Dr. Yulinda Renee Rahman (Rock-man) aka Doc YuRoc, is a doctor of clinical sexology, published author, founder of the nonprofit Heal On Purpose Inc, and researcher of sexual trauma in the Black community.

References

Owens, D. C. (2017). Medical bondage: Race, gender, and the origins of American gynecology. University of Georgia Press.

Littlefield, M. B. (2007). Black women, mothering, and protest in 19th century American society. The Journal of Pan African Studies, 2(1), 53–61.