by Dr. LeAnna Majors
"Without community, there is no liberation” – Audre Lorde
“In order to survive, those of us for whom oppression is as American as apple pie have always had to be watchers.” -Audre Lorde
“While domination may be inevitable as a social fact, it is unlikely to be hegemonic as an ideology within social spaces where Black women speak freely. This realm of relatively safe discourse, however narrow, is a necessary condition for Black women’s resistance.” -Patricia Hill Collins
I remember the moment I realized I was suffering from burnout and that it was time to honestly consider leaving the work I loved. It was a warm evening at a rooftop restaurant, and I was with my sister circle, a group of women who have become my community, especially when I was experiencing hard times. We had shared a few rounds of drinks, swapping stories about the week’s challenges, as we often did.
At some point, the words came out of my mouth: “I’ve lost my identity. I don’t know who I am anymore.” As soon as I said it, I felt the weight of their silence. They looked at me with a mix of sadness, care, and concern. One of them gently said, “I’m sorry.” That was it. There was no advice, no quick fixes, just the acknowledgment of my pain and the space to be seen.
As Black women we often find ourselves in spaces where isolation feels like it takes over. The expectations can be suffocating, compounded by systemic challenges that make the leadership journey feel like a heavy burden to carry. In those moments, it’s easy to lose sight of who we are, why we lead, and the joy we once felt in our work.
This experience taught me something profound: community can be the balm when we are weary. When we gather with others who see us and affirm us, we create space for our healing. What I know and what I hope to share with you all reading this, is that building supportive communities can anchor us to our purpose. Community can support us with connecting to our power so that we can be people in the world who move with clarity and confidence.
Charlene Komuntale, Lemonade Dress, 2021
turning lemons into lemonade.
The reason why I have chosen to spend my time co-creating spaces where Black women can feel whole and powerful is because I am actively trying to resist the fact that a majority of Black women have experienced burnout and do not feel emotionally safe at work. Because I have experienced this too, I, like many Black women, have been on a journey to name who I am outside of work and what I can do for others.
Post the most recent US presidential election, the notion of Black women letting go of the practice of taking care of everything and living as a superwoman has again come into our discourse. It has been described as a call to ‘burn the cape’(@raquelmartinphd).
The idea of centering my wholeness with the same level of effort as I have put forth in caring for everyone else is compelling. What could happen if I dedicated my heart towards my own personal healing and growth? What could happen if I dedicated my soul towards goals in service of my personal vision for my life? What could happen if Black women as a collective did this? What could happen if we, as a community, decided to burn our capes?
For me, burning our capes is not about abandoning our communities or letting go of our responsibilities. Instead, it’s about leaning into our ways of knowing that center self-definition. It's about naming for ourselves where we spend our time and energy. It’s about us creating more spaces for “speaking freely”.
For Black women, our collective consciousness has allowed us to survive as we navigate workplaces where we are either hyper-visible or completely invisible, reduced to tokens or the "go-to" problem solvers. The constant juggling act, between being too much or not enough, leaves little room for us to simply be. These societal expectations to embody the ‘superwoman’ archetype and other controlling images, not only strip us of our humanity but also perpetuate cycles of burnout and emotional exhaustion.
I don’t want it to be confused, I see beauty in our strength. I know that our ability to make lemonade out of lemons has turned into a society deeply influenced by our power. I see the flavor of our strength everywhere. Oftentimes, though, I also see the cost of our strength, and wonder if we should make more space for balance. When strength becomes the only acceptable narrative, it denies us the space to rest, to grieve, to grow from our mistakes, and to heal. It denies us the ability to explore our full range of humanity.
I have dedicated my freedom dreaming to reimagining our reality to one where Black women collectively prioritize our well-being, set boundaries that protect our joy, and center our personal visions for our lives. A world where we embrace the power of saying "no" to what depletes us and "yes" to what nourishes us. So I would like to offer that as we burn our capes, we remind ourselves that it is a loving demonstration of our anger. We are offering a counternarrative of what it means to be a Black woman in leadership.
seeking liberatory power in beloved community.
I often think back to that evening at the rooftop restaurant with my sister circle, the moment I admitted aloud that I had lost my sense of self. The support I felt, in a very vulnerable moment, was a turning point for me. It was a reminder of the power of community, even in the simplest acts of bearing witness to one another’s truths. Sitting with my sister circle that night, I began to realize that healing doesn’t happen in isolation; it happens when we allow ourselves to be seen, held, and reminded of who we are outside the roles we’ve carried for too long.
As I work to understand what ‘burning the cape’ looks like in my life, I see it as a continuation of what I realized that evening with my sister circle. I see it as a metaphor for releasing the weight of unrealistic expectations, allowing for space to be vulnerable, and embracing the fullness of who we are. The support I felt in that moment also reminded me that reclaiming ourselves isn’t a solitary journey but one that flourishes in connection with others who see and affirm us. Burning the cape is not about abandoning the work we love but about reclaiming ourselves within it. It’s about deciding that our wholeness matters just as much as our contributions.
If you’ve ever felt the weight of losing yourself in the work, know that you’re not alone. There is power in beloved community. Accessing this power can guide you back to your truth. Back to yourself.
In solidarity,
Dr. LeAnna Majors
Dec 1, 2024
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