I’ve never been the type of person to be extroverted and chatty with every person in the room, no matter where I am, or whom I’m around. People would probably describe me as shy, maybe a little awkward. I would consider myself to be introverted. I like to keep to myself and I enjoy my own company. Don’t get me wrong, I can talk to people if I have to, but I’d prefer not to. 

Whenever strangers or people I’m not particularly comfortable with strike up a conversation with me, I never know what to say back. Instead I do that awkward laugh and think to myself, “Oh my gosh, why didn’t you say something to continue the conversation? Why are you being so awkward?” 

I’m the type of person who gets overly nervous when I have to order food at a fast food restaurant. So, I’ll recite what I want to say at least 50 times in my head to avoid all possible scenarios I feel will result in fatal embarrassment. I get claustrophobic when there’s a lot of people in small, confined spaces. I even get nervous when strangers ask me simple questions.

But doesn’t this go against the very essence of a black woman? Aren’t we supposed to be strong and independent: Confident in our blackness and eager to take on any challenge the world throws at us? Bare the brunt of issues such as institutionalized racism or colourism with our heads held up high and fists to the sky? Aren't we supposed to be strong not only for ourselves, but the entire black community?  

The truth is I don’t always feel strong. I get anxious, I get sad, I get angry and I cry. When will we allow black women to be vulnerable? We need help too; I mean we are all human after all. Yet we are unfairly expected to endure systemic racism, employment discrimination, and rejection from our own men without showing any form of anger or frustration. Otherwise we risk being labeled as the Angry Black Woman.

Instead, we as black women are expected to exude that bubbly yet feisty, outgoing personality in the workplace, school, and other spaces. Many times, we are expected to be animated in our everyday responses and behaviours for the sole purpose of entertainment. If your personality is not entertaining enough, and if you do not fit into the caricature white media has insidiously created for black women, then you are easily discarded amongst “friends” and peers. It leaves us feeling excluded and inadequate because our introverted personalities do not necessarily fit into the mold society has made for us. 

And don’t get me started on the amount of times people I know have told me, “When I first met you, I thought you were a total bitch and super rude. But you’re actually really nice!” Comments like those left me wondering how someone could come to such conclusion solely by looking at me while never really having an actual conversation with me. I began to realize that my quietness and shyness, including my introspective behaviour was simply being interpreted as rudeness and full of attitude. As introverted black women, we are not given room to be shy and reserved because our personalities are quick to be labeled as unwelcoming and impolite compared to our other female counterparts. We basically have to be smiling, friendly, and warm 24/7 whether or not we are having a rough day and dealing with day to day microaggressions and the pressures of navigating white spaces as the only black woman in the room. 

The observant part of me has its perks and woes. I am often able to learn all the tea about folk while going unnoticed—which I find rather entertaining. But the downside is I literally hear everything and see everything. One time I overheard a group of non-black people of colour condescendingly mock black people and laugh about black stereotypes. The pro-blackness in me was full of rage and ready to go all Malcom X on them, giving them a speech on how they should know how over-generalizing an entire group is detrimental to the community so they should take their bigotry elsewhere. Yet the introverted, anxious part of me left me opening my mouth with no words coming out and instead giving them a strong side eye and walking away. Next came guilt for knowing what was happening was prejudicial and wrong but not having enough courage to do more about it. Being introverted has taught me to express by voice in other ways such as writing. I realized we all have various strengths, weaknesses, abilities and talents which should be nurtured and utilized for the greater good.

I think it’s time we change our narrative and rewrite our own stories. It’s okay to be a shy black woman and it’s okay to be a loud and sociable black woman. It’s okay to admit that you're sad and more importantly, that you need help. You can still be a Queen and have your bad days, that doesn’t remove your royalty. I say black women can be strong yet vulnerable. We have the strength to birth life, but we must take the time to rest. 

It is so important for us to surround ourselves with people who will accept us for who we are instead of the stereotypes fabricated to confine the beautiful, varying personalities and characters in the black community. Black women, we must support each other in whatever ways we can. The small actions and gestures such as leaving a cute comment under someone’s Instagram post and trying to help a black woman who seems shy and reserved feel more comfortable in a group setting, can make a huge difference for someone. However, allowing space for introverted black women should not only rely on black women. Yes, black men the weight is also on you to allow all types of black women to feel comfortable in their own skin since we are a reflection of you. I’ll say it louder for the black men at the back! Support all kinds of black women, whether quiet, loud, introverted or extroverted.   

Therefore, I refuse to feel guilty for not living up to the expectations of the dominant society that expect black women to accept oppression in silence with a smile on our face. I will not be ashamed for being an awkward, introverted black woman. I hope that one day we will be able to perceive the beauty and strength that lies within vulnerability.

By: Rufaro