THE LITTLE BLACK GIRLS WE FAILED: When Older Black Women Become the Source of Trauma Instead of Protection
THE LITTLE BLACK GIRLS WE FAILED: When Older Black Women Become the Source of Trauma Instead of Protection
A conversation about generational trauma, psychological abuse, family betrayal, accountability, and breaking cycles in the Black community.
I want you to think about the little Black girl you used to be.
The little girl who believed the grown women in her family were supposed to protect her, guide her, and love her.
Now imagine discovering that some of those same women were the ones gossiping about you, spreading rumors, judging you, and damaging your reputation before you were even old enough to defend yourself.
What happens when the women who were supposed to protect you become the very women you have to heal from?
And here’s where it gets even deeper.
That little girl grows up. She remembers what happened. She finally finds her voice, establishes boundaries, and refuses to tolerate the same mistreatment.
And suddenly, SHE’S the problem.
She’s disrespectful.
She’s overly emotional.
She’s holding grudges.
She’s the black sheep of the family.
But why is the child who grew up and established boundaries being held more accountable than the adults who mistreated her?
This conversation is personal for me because I WAS that little girl.
I experienced grown women spreading rumors about me as a child. And now, some of those same people want access to my adult life while pretending nothing ever happened.
No apology.
No acknowledgment.
No accountability.
And because I refuse to pretend, I’m considered the black sheep on BOTH sides of my family.
But here’s what we’re going to unpack today.
Why do some older Black women tear down younger Black women? How does that behavior become generational trauma?
And why do families punish the person who finally breaks the cycle?
Because sometimes the family isn’t upset that you became disrespectful.
They’re upset that you became unavailable for disrespect.
And before this conversation is over, I want us to understand something important:
Just because someone has forgotten what they did to you doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten what it felt like.
So let’s talk about the little Black girls we failed, the grown women they became, and why accountability is the only way we can begin breaking these cycles.
There is a conversation that we need to have in the Black community, and it’s a conversation that is going to make some people uncomfortable. But discomfort is not always a bad thing. Sometimes discomfort is what happens when the truth finally enters a room where silence has been sitting for generations.
Today, I want to talk about something that I believe has affected far more Black women than we openly acknowledge: the mistreatment of younger Black women and little Black girls by older Black women who were supposed to guide them, nurture them, protect them, and prepare them for the world.
And before anybody misunderstands what I’m saying, let me make something very clear. This is not an attack on older Black women. There are countless older Black women who have been the backbone of their families and communities. Women who have sacrificed, protected, mentored, encouraged, and loved younger generations. Those women deserve recognition. But honoring the women who got it right does not mean we have to remain silent about the women who got it wrong. Both truths can exist.
And today, we’re going to talk about the women who got it wrong. Because some of us didn’t experience our first betrayal from a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a coworker, or a stranger. Some of us experienced our first betrayal from the grown women in our own families. And some of those same women are now trying to walk back into our adult lives as though nothing ever happened. No apology. No acknowledgment. No accountability. Just the expectation that because they’re older, because they’re family, or because time has passed, we should forget everything.
Well, I have a question. When did getting older become a substitute for taking accountability?
PART ONE: THE LITTLE BLACK GIRL WHO WAS NEVER PROTECTED
I want to start with something personal. I know what it feels like to be a little Black girl and have grown women spreading rumors about you. Women who were old enough to know better. Women who had already lived enough life to understand how damaging words could be.
Women who should have recognized that a child was still developing her identity, her confidence, her self-worth, and her understanding of the world. Instead of protecting that child, they participated in damaging how other people perceived her.
And here’s what makes that experience so disturbing. A little girl should not have to defend her character against grown women.
Think about that. A child is still trying to figure out who she is, but the adults around her are already telling stories about who they believe she is. And sometimes those stories become more powerful than the child’s actual voice. People begin treating her differently.
They form opinions about her. They question her intentions. They repeat things they never personally witnessed. And the little girl is left trying to understand why people who are supposed to love her are treating her like an enemy.
Now, years later, that little girl becomes a grown woman. She remembers. She recognizes what happened. She understands that what she experienced was wrong. And she decides she will no longer participate in those unhealthy relationships. Suddenly, she’s the problem. She’s too emotional. She’s disrespectful. She’s holding grudges. She’s acting like she’s better than everybody. She’s the black sheep.
But here’s the question nobody wants to answer.
Why is the child who grew up and established boundaries being held more accountable than the adults who crossed those boundaries in the first place? Why is her refusal to tolerate mistreatment considered worse than the mistreatment itself? That’s where this conversation begins.
PART TWO: THE PSYCHOLOGY BEHIND WOMEN WHO TEAR DOWN OTHER WOMEN
Let’s talk about the psychology. Why would a grown woman feel the need to criticize, humiliate, compete with, or spread rumors about a younger woman? And more importantly, why would an adult direct that behavior toward a child?
There isn’t one explanation that applies to everybody, but psychology gives us several possible patterns to examine.
1. Projection
Projection is a psychological defense mechanism in which someone attributes uncomfortable feelings, impulses, or qualities to another person. Sometimes a woman who has never made peace with her own insecurities may become unusually critical of qualities she sees in another woman. Maybe she was taught that confident girls were disrespectful. Maybe she was punished for expressing herself. Maybe she grew up believing that a woman should be quiet, obedient, and willing to tolerate mistreatment.
Now she encounters a younger girl who is outspoken, confident, curious, or independent. Instead of seeing those qualities as strengths, she interprets them as problems. And she begins trying to correct something that may not need correcting. But here’s what we need to understand. Not every little Black girl who refuses to shrink herself is disrespectful. Some girls are simply developing their own personalities. Some are asking questions.
Some are learning to advocate for themselves. And some are refusing to accept treatment that previous generations were taught to tolerate. We cannot keep confusing a child’s developing independence with a character flaw.
2. Internalized Misogyny
Internalized misogyny occurs when women absorb negative beliefs about women and girls and begin applying those beliefs to themselves or other women. It can appear through harsh judgments about appearance, sexuality, confidence, relationships, or what makes a woman respectable. Sometimes younger girls are criticized for behavior that would be ignored or excused in boys.
A confident girl becomes arrogant. An outspoken girl becomes fast-mouthed. A girl who receives attention becomes a problem. A girl who questions unfair treatment becomes disrespectful.
And these judgments can become especially damaging when adults turn them into gossip. We need to ask ourselves why some girls are treated as though their reputations must be controlled before they’ve even had the opportunity to discover who they are.
3. Social Comparison and Insecurity
Psychologists have long studied social comparison: the tendency to evaluate ourselves in relation to other people.
Comparison is normal, but when comparison becomes tied to insecurity, resentment, or competition, it can damage relationships. Some adults may struggle when younger women have opportunities, freedoms, confidence, or support that they themselves never experienced. And instead of celebrating progress, they respond with criticism.
But I want to be careful here.
We cannot assume every older woman who mistreats a younger woman is jealous of her. Sometimes the behavior comes from rigid beliefs about authority. Sometimes it’s learned family behavior. Sometimes it’s unresolved resentment. And sometimes it’s simply a person making a harmful choice. Whatever the explanation, the responsibility remains with the adult. Your unresolved pain does not give you permission to become somebody else’s childhood trauma.
PART THREE: HOW GENERATIONAL TRAUMA BECOMES FAMILY TRADITION
Now let’s go deeper, because this conversation cannot be separated entirely from the history of Black women in America. For generations, Black women have experienced racism, sexism, economic exclusion, violence, and social expectations that demanded extraordinary strength under difficult circumstances. Many Black women developed survival strategies in response to those conditions.
Being emotionally guarded could feel safer than being vulnerable. Remaining quiet could sometimes reduce conflict. Demanding obedience from children could be understood as preparing them to survive in an unfair world. And being strong became not only an expectation but, for many women, a necessity.
But here is where the problem begins.
A survival strategy can become harmful when it is passed down without examining whether it is still appropriate. A grandmother may have been raised in an environment where children were never allowed to question adults. She teaches her daughter the same thing. Her daughter grows up believing that obedience is the same as respect. Then she raises her own children with those expectations. And when one of those children becomes an adult and says, “I deserve to be treated with respect, too,” the family interprets that as rebellion. Not necessarily because the younger woman has done anything wrong, but because she is challenging a belief that has been normalized for decades.
This is one way harmful family patterns can move through generations. Not because trauma is automatically inherited. Not because Black families are uniquely dysfunctional. But because children learn relationship patterns by observing the adults around them. They learn how conflict is handled.
They learn whether apologies are necessary. They learn whether emotions are safe to express. They learn who has power and whose voice matters. And they may repeat those lessons in adulthood unless they consciously choose something different.
Sometimes the thing a family calls respect is actually fear. Sometimes the thing a family calls loyalty is silence. Sometimes the thing a family calls forgiveness is avoidance. And sometimes the thing a family calls keeping the peace is simply allowing harmful behavior to continue without consequences. That is not a tradition we should be proud to preserve.
PART FOUR: THE PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE OF GOSSIPING ABOUT CHILDREN
Now I want to address something that doesn’t get discussed enough. What happens psychologically when adults spread rumors about a child? We often dismiss gossip as harmless conversation, but gossip becomes something much more serious when it is used to damage someone’s reputation, isolate them socially, or influence how others treat them.
Psychology recognizes a form of harmful behavior called relational aggression.
Relational aggression involves damaging someone through relationships, social exclusion, manipulation, or attacks on their reputation. And when an adult engages in that behavior toward a child, there is a major imbalance of power. The adult has social influence. The adult has credibility. The adult may have authority within the family. The child has limited power to defend herself.
Now imagine growing up in an environment where people are constantly discussing your character, questioning your intentions, or repeating stories about you. What might that teach a child?
It might teach her that she cannot trust people. It might teach her that love comes with judgment. It might teach her that she must constantly defend herself. It might teach her that being misunderstood is dangerous. And it might teach her that even the people closest to her are capable of betraying her.
Over time, some children who experience this kind of mistreatment develop patterns of hypervigilance. They become extremely aware of other people’s moods, expressions, and opinions. Some begin overexplaining themselves.
Some become perfectionists. Some struggle with trusting other women. Some become emotionally guarded. And others grow into adults who feel they must handle everything alone. These are possible effects, not guaranteed outcomes. But the important point is that childhood experiences can shape the way a person understands safety and relationships long after childhood ends.
And here’s what I want every adult listening to understand.
You may have forgotten the rumor. You may have forgotten the conversation. You may have forgotten what you said about that little girl. But she may remember how people treated her afterward. She may remember feeling confused. She may remember being excluded. She may remember having to defend herself. And she may remember exactly who made her feel unsafe.
Just because the adult moved on does not mean the child was unaffected.
PART FIVE: THE BLACK SHEEP IS SOMETIMES THE PERSON WHO REFUSES TO KEEP THE SECRET
Now let’s talk about being the black sheep of the family, because this is where my own experience connects to a much larger psychological conversation. When you grow up in a family with unhealthy patterns, people can become accustomed to playing certain roles. Some people are expected to keep the peace. Some are expected to remain silent.
Some are allowed to behave however they want. And others are expected to tolerate that behavior because they’re younger or have less authority.
Then one person decides she’s not doing it anymore. She begins questioning things. She starts establishing boundaries. She refuses to participate in gossip. She stops attending gatherings where she’s consistently mistreated. She no longer gives people unlimited access to her life. And suddenly, everybody has something to say about her. She’s changed. She’s difficult.
She’s ungrateful. She’s acting funny. She’s too sensitive. She’s the problem.
But I want to introduce a concept from family psychology. It’s called family systems theory. This approach examines how people’s behavior is influenced by the patterns and relationships within a family. Families often develop familiar ways of functioning.
Even when those patterns are unhealthy, they can become comfortable because everyone knows what to expect. When one person changes their behavior, the entire system may experience tension. And sometimes the person who changes is blamed for disrupting the family.
There is also a pattern known as scapegoating, where one person becomes the focus of blame for problems that involve multiple people. Now, being labeled the black sheep doesn’t automatically mean someone is being scapegoated. But when a family repeatedly focuses on one person’s reaction while refusing to discuss the behavior that caused it, that’s a dynamic worth examining. Because sometimes the family isn’t upset that you became disrespectful.
They’re upset that you became unavailable for disrespect. And those are two very different things.
I want to say something to the women who have experienced this. You do not have to spend your entire adulthood defending yourself against the version of you that other people created when you were a child. You do not have to keep proving that you’re a good person. You do not have to keep explaining why certain relationships are unhealthy for you. And you do not have to sacrifice your emotional well-being to maintain the appearance of family unity.
A family can look united in pictures while being emotionally disconnected behind closed doors. And sometimes the person who refuses to pretend is the one everybody calls difficult.
PART SIX: WHY SOME FAMILY MEMBERS WANT ACCESS WITHOUT ACCOUNTABILITY
Now let’s discuss something that I find particularly troubling. When people mistreated you during childhood, but later in life they want to return as though nothing happened. They want conversations. They want invitations. They want to know what’s going on in your life. They want access to your family.
They want the benefits of having a relationship with you. But they don’t want to discuss the history. And when you bring it up, suddenly you’re too emotional. You’re dwelling on the past. You’re holding grudges. You need to let things go.
But here’s my question. How can someone demand that you move forward with them when they refuse to acknowledge what they’re asking you to move forward from?
Psychologically, admitting wrongdoing can threaten a person’s self-image. People generally want to believe they are good, reasonable, and caring. When confronted with evidence that they harmed someone, they may experience discomfort.
Some people respond by reflecting and taking responsibility. Others minimize what happened. Some become defensive. Some rewrite the story. And some focus on the other person’s emotional response instead of their own behavior.
This is one reason accountability can be difficult. But difficult does not mean unnecessary. And we need to stop confusing reconciliation with pretending. Reconciliation is about rebuilding a relationship. Accountability involves recognizing harmful behavior and taking responsibility for it. Forgiveness is a separate personal process. And access is another matter entirely.
You can forgive somebody and still decide they don’t belong in your everyday life. You can understand somebody’s childhood without excusing what they did during yours. You can wish someone well without inviting them into your home. And you can love your relatives while recognizing that a close relationship with them may not be healthy. Being related does not eliminate the need for mutual respect.
PART SEVEN: WHY BEING CALLED OVERLY EMOTIONAL IS SO DAMAGING
Let’s talk about that phrase: “You’re too emotional.” Because sometimes that phrase is used to dismiss a legitimate concern without ever addressing it. You tell somebody that their behavior hurt you.
They tell you you’re sensitive. You explain why you don’t trust them. They accuse you of holding grudges. You establish a boundary. They say you’re acting differently. And before you know it, you’re defending your feelings instead of discussing what happened.
That is a form of emotional invalidation. It doesn’t mean every disagreement is invalidation. People can remember events differently. People can misunderstand each other. And not every emotional reaction proves that another person intended harm. But repeatedly dismissing someone’s feelings without engaging with their concerns can be deeply damaging.
There is also a cultural dimension to this conversation. Black women often navigate conflicting stereotypes. On one hand, we’re expected to be strong. We’re expected to endure hardship. We’re expected to keep going regardless of what we’re experiencing. On the other hand, when we express frustration, anger, or pain, we can be stereotyped as aggressive, difficult, or overly emotional.
Think about the contradiction. You’re expected to survive everything without complaint, but when you finally speak about what you’ve survived, your emotions become the problem. That is an impossible standard. And we should not reproduce those expectations inside our own families.
Black girls deserve emotional safety. Black women deserve to express pain without automatically being discredited. And older Black women deserve that same compassion, too. But compassion must be mutual. It cannot only flow upward toward the oldest person in the room.
PART EIGHT: WHAT THIS DOES TO BLACK WOMEN AS ADULTS
Now let’s connect childhood experiences to adulthood. Because sometimes people look at a grown woman and criticize her personality without considering what experiences may have shaped her behavior. They say she’s guarded. They say she’s independent to a fault. They say she doesn’t trust anybody. They say she’s defensive. They say she keeps everybody at a distance.
But have we ever asked what happened when she was younger?
Was she constantly criticized?
Was she betrayed by people she trusted?
Was she expected to remain quiet when adults mistreated her?
Did she learn that expressing hurt would only result in more criticism?
Did she grow up believing she had to protect herself because nobody else would?
Those experiences can influence adult relationships. Some women struggle to trust friends. Some struggle with vulnerability in romantic relationships. Some have difficulty asking for help. Some become highly sensitive to rejection. Others may feel compelled to prove their worth through achievement, independence, or perfectionism. And some become very intentional about protecting their peace.
But I want to make an important distinction. Not every boundary is a trauma response, and not every independent woman is emotionally wounded. Sometimes independence is simply a healthy expression of maturity. Sometimes distance is an appropriate response to repeated mistreatment. And sometimes a woman is not avoiding intimacy. She’s choosing relationships where respect is mutual.
We need to stop pathologizing Black women for protecting themselves while also creating opportunities for healing when past experiences are affecting their well-being.
Because the goal is not to become so guarded that nobody can love us. The goal is to develop the ability to recognize safe relationships and participate in them without abandoning ourselves.
PART NINE: WHY THE NEXT GENERATION DESERVES SOMETHING DIFFERENT
Here’s where the conversation must move beyond identifying the problem. Because we cannot spend the next fifty years simply discussing what previous generations did wrong. At some point, we have to decide what we’re going to do differently. And that begins with how we treat little Black girls today.
We need to stop gossiping about children. We need to stop sexualizing normal childhood behavior. We need to stop calling confident girls grown. We need to stop confusing obedience with respect. We need to stop humiliating girls in the name of preparing them for the real world. And we need to stop using our own painful childhoods as justification for repeating harmful behavior.
“I went through it” is not a good enough reason to make another child experience it. “I turned out fine” does not automatically mean the treatment was healthy. And “that’s how we were raised” explains a pattern, but it doesn’t establish that the pattern should continue.
The purpose of surviving hardship should not be to make sure the next generation suffers equally. The purpose should be to create better conditions for those who come after us.
Imagine what could change if more older Black women saw younger Black women as people to invest in rather than people to control. Imagine if little girls grew up surrounded by women who corrected them privately, celebrated them publicly, and protected their dignity.
Imagine if older women could say,
“I was raised differently, but I’m willing to learn.”
Imagine if younger women could say, “I respect your experience, but I need you to respect my boundaries.”
Imagine families where apologies were normal.
Where accountability wasn’t considered disrespect.
Where children could ask questions. Where adults could admit mistakes.
Where people were allowed to grow beyond the roles assigned to them during childhood. That is the kind of generational change worth fighting for.
PART TEN: HOW WE BREAK THE CYCLE
I believe there are several changes we need to make.
Number one: We must stop giving people immunity from accountability because of their age. Getting older should bring wisdom, but age alone does not guarantee wisdom. And being an elder does not mean someone is incapable of causing harm. Respect should be mutual.
Number two: We need to acknowledge the difference between discipline and humiliation. Children need guidance.
They need structure. They need boundaries. But they do not need to be publicly shamed, gossiped about, or emotionally degraded. Correction should help a child develop, not destroy her sense of worth.
Number three: We need to normalize adults apologizing to children. An adult saying “I was wrong” does not weaken their authority. It demonstrates integrity. And it teaches children that accountability is something everyone practices.
Number four: We need to stop forcing reconciliation without repair. If someone has been harmed, they should not be pressured to resume a relationship simply because the person who harmed them is ready to move on. Repair requires more than time. It requires honesty, changed behavior, and respect for the other person’s choices.
Number five: We need to create healthier relationships between generations of Black women. Older women have valuable experiences and wisdom. Younger women have perspectives, knowledge, and experiences of their own. We need both. But mentorship cannot thrive where humiliation is normalized. And healthy relationships cannot thrive where one generation believes it should never be questioned.
Number six: We must stop punishing the women who speak up. Not every person who challenges a family pattern is trying to destroy the family. Sometimes she’s trying to prevent the next generation from experiencing the same harm. And sometimes the most loving thing a person can do is refuse to participate in something unhealthy.
PART ELEVEN: TO THE WOMEN WHO HAVE BEEN LABELED THE BLACK SHEEP
I want to speak directly to the women who know what it feels like to be misunderstood by their own families. The women who were criticized as little girls. The women who were talked about before they were old enough to understand what was being said. The women who grew up feeling like they had to defend their character. The women who became adults and finally decided they weren’t going to tolerate it anymore.
I want you to consider something. You may never receive the apology you deserve. The people who hurt you may never acknowledge what happened. They may continue telling their version of the story. They may continue calling you difficult. They may continue pretending that your boundaries came out of nowhere.
And that is painful. Because sometimes we don’t just want an apology. We want somebody to acknowledge that the little girl we once were deserved better.
We want someone to say, “You were a child. You didn’t deserve that. I should have known better.
I was wrong.” And when those words never come, it can feel like the original wound is being reopened.
But here’s what I want you to remember. Their refusal to acknowledge your experience does not erase your experience. You can take your memories seriously without requiring everybody else to agree with you. You can establish boundaries without making your entire life about the people who hurt you.
You can create meaningful relationships outside of unhealthy family dynamics. You can build a peaceful home. You can love people. You can laugh. You can thrive. And you can become the kind of adult that the little girl you once were needed.
Breaking a generational cycle doesn’t always mean cutting everybody off. Sometimes it means having difficult conversations. Sometimes it means limiting contact. Sometimes it means rebuilding relationships with people who genuinely take accountability. And sometimes it means accepting that certain relationships cannot be repaired under the current circumstances.
There is no single decision that fits every family. But whatever decision you make, it should be rooted in your values, your well-being, and your understanding of what healthy relationships require. Not guilt. Not pressure. And not the fear of being called the black sheep.
PART TWELVE: A MESSAGE TO THE OLDER BLACK WOMEN LISTENING
I want to speak to the older Black women for a moment, especially those who may recognize themselves in parts of this conversation. This is not about humiliating you. This is not about dismissing your struggles. And this is not about pretending younger generations know everything.
We recognize that many of you survived things younger women may never fully understand. We recognize the sacrifices. We recognize the strength. We recognize the obstacles. But we also have to recognize that surviving trauma does not automatically prevent someone from passing trauma on.
You can be a woman who endured extraordinary hardship and still have harmed someone. You can have done your best with the tools you had and still need to apologize. You can have loved a child and still have made mistakes that affected her. These truths can exist together. And accountability doesn’t have to mean living in shame. It can mean choosing to do something different now.
If there is a younger woman in your family who has distanced herself, consider whether there is something she has been trying to communicate. Don’t automatically assume she’s disrespectful. Don’t automatically assume somebody turned her against you. Don’t automatically assume she’s being dramatic.
Listen.
Ask questions.
Be willing to hear things that make you uncomfortable.
And if you recognize that you contributed to the harm, acknowledge it without making excuses.
Because sometimes the words “I was wrong, and I’m sorry” can begin a conversation that years of pretending never could. But remember that an apology doesn’t guarantee reconciliation. The other person still has the right to decide what kind of relationship feels healthy for them. That is part of respecting their adulthood.
PART THIRTEEN: MY PERSONAL POSITION
Now I want to bring this conversation back to myself. I know what it feels like to be the little girl people talked about. And I know what it feels like to become the grown woman who refuses to pretend that certain things didn’t happen. Today, I find myself labeled the black sheep on both sides of my family. Not because I believe I’m perfect. Not because I think I’m better than anybody. And not because I believe I’m incapable of making mistakes. But because I have decided that being family is not enough to excuse repeated disrespect.
I am not willing to participate in relationships where I’m expected to ignore my own experiences just to make everybody else comfortable. And I am not willing to accept the idea that expressing how something affected me automatically makes me overly emotional. I was a child. The adults were adults. And that difference matters.
I can understand that people came from difficult backgrounds. I can recognize that previous generations experienced hardship. I can have compassion for what they survived. But I will not use their trauma to invalidate my own experiences. I can understand why a person became who they are without accepting how they choose to treat me.
And if that makes me the black sheep in somebody else’s story, then I can live with that. Because I would rather build relationships based on mutual respect than maintain relationships where silence is the price of belonging. I don’t need everybody to agree with me. I don’t need everybody to like my boundaries. And I don’t need to convince people that the things I experienced were important.
What matters to me now is what I choose to carry forward. I refuse to pass along the belief that little girls should remain silent when adults mistreat them. I refuse to teach the next generation that love requires accepting humiliation. And I refuse to confuse family loyalty with abandoning myself. The cycle doesn’t end simply because we recognize it. The cycle begins to change when we stop repeating it.
CLOSING: THE GENERATION THAT CHOOSES DIFFERENTLY
I want to leave everybody with this. We talk a lot about generational wealth in the Black community. We talk about leaving our children property. We talk about leaving businesses. We talk about investments, financial freedom, and creating opportunities that previous generations didn’t have. And those things matter. But I believe we also need to talk about generational emotional wealth.
What kind of emotional environment are we leaving behind?
Are we leaving our daughters confidence or insecurity?
Are we leaving them healthy communication or silence?
Are we teaching them accountability or avoidance?
Are we showing them how to build supportive relationships with other women, or are we teaching them that women are people they must compete with and fear?
Because a child can inherit money and still inherit unhealthy relationship patterns. A child can grow up in a beautiful house and still feel emotionally unsafe. And a child can have an entire family surrounding her and still feel completely alone.
We have to care about more than what the next generation receives financially. We have to care about what they experience emotionally. We have to care about the way we speak to them. The way we speak about them. The way we correct them. The way we protect them. And the way we respond when they tell us we’ve hurt them.
A generation that demands respect but refuses accountability cannot teach the next generation what healthy respect looks like. And a family that protects its image more fiercely than it protects its children has some serious work to do.
So my message today is simple. To the older women who have spent their lives protecting and uplifting younger women: thank you. We need more of that. To the older women who recognize that they may have contributed to harmful patterns: it’s not too late to take responsibility and change. To the younger women who are still learning how to establish boundaries: you are allowed to develop your own voice.
And to the women who were once little girls trying to survive the judgment, gossip, and criticism of grown adults: You deserved protection before you ever learned how to protect yourself. You deserved guidance without humiliation. You deserved correction without character assassination. You deserved to be treated like a developing child, not a grown woman’s competition or enemy. And now that you’re an adult, you deserve relationships where respect, honesty, and accountability are mutual.
We cannot rewrite every childhood. We cannot force every apology. And we cannot make every family member willing to change. But we can decide what behavior we will participate in moving forward. We can decide what we normalize. We can decide how we treat the little girls growing up around us today. And we can decide that the next generation deserves something healthier than what some of us experienced.
Because the goal should never be to raise little Black girls who are strong enough to survive mistreatment from the women around them. The goal should be to raise little Black girls who are surrounded by enough love, protection, and emotional safety that they don’t have to spend their adulthood recovering from the people who were supposed to love them.
And that is the conversation I believe we need to keep having. Not to divide generations of Black women, but to create a future where we no longer have to choose between loving our families and protecting ourselves.
Because being the generation that breaks the cycle may be uncomfortable. But continuing the cycle has already cost too many little girls their peace. And I believe it’s time for something different.
QUESTIONS FOR THE LIVE AUDIENCE
Have you ever experienced jealousy, gossip, humiliation, or mistreatment from older women in your family when you were younger?
Were you allowed to defend yourself, or were you told that speaking up was disrespectful?
Have family members ever called you dramatic, sensitive, or difficult simply because you established boundaries?
Do you believe older generations sometimes confuse respect with obedience?
Why do some families expect reconciliation without accountability?
Have you ever been labeled the black sheep because you refused to participate in unhealthy family patterns?
What would genuine accountability from an older family member look like to you?
How can older and younger Black women begin rebuilding trust without ignoring the harm some women have experienced?
Final question: Are we truly breaking generational cycles, or are we just teaching the next generation to become better at hiding the pain?
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