Sis, It’s Not Your Fault: Reclaiming Power in a World That Tries to Blame Us
Trigger Warning: This post discusses sexual assault, statistics, and societal biases.
Let’s have a heart-to-heart, sis. Being a Black woman means navigating a world that often fails to protect us, sees us as less deserving of care, and sexualizes us from a young age. We live at the intersection of racism and sexism, and nowhere is this more evident than in the statistics and stories around sexual violence.
I know this all too well. On December 29, 1999, I was attacked outside my Bronx apartment by a 15-year-old. It was a Wednesday evening. I didn’t see him at first, but I felt him—the way you feel something before you know it’s there. My gut screamed warnings I wish I had trusted more.
The attack was terrifying, but what followed was almost as bad: the lies my trauma told me, the stupid questions from society (What were you wearing?), and the way I wondered if, somehow, it was my fault. It wasn’t. And if you’re a survivor, let me say this loud and clear: It wasn’t your fault either.
The Numbers Don’t Lie: Black Women Are at Greater Risk
Let’s start with the facts:
1 in 4 Black women will experience rape or attempted rape in her lifetime, compared to about 1 in 5 white women (National Center on Violence Against Women in the Black Community).
Black girls are more likely to be sexually abused in childhood. According to a 2017 Georgetown report, 60% of Black women report experiencing sexual abuse by the age of 18, compared to 45% of white women.
Black women are twice as likely to be killed by an intimate partner than white women (Violence Policy Center).
Despite these numbers, Black women are less likely to be believed, less likely to be offered support, and more likely to be blamed. This isn’t just about the justice system failing us—it’s about society refusing to see us as victims.
The Sexualization of Black Women and Girls
From a young age, Black girls are treated as less innocent and more sexual than their white peers. This isn’t just a feeling—it’s backed by research.
The Georgetown study, Girlhood Interrupted, found that Black girls as young as five are seen as older, less in need of nurturing, and more sexually knowledgeable than white girls of the same age.
This hypersexualization doesn’t just lead to harmful stereotypes—it affects how Black girls are treated when they report abuse. They’re less likely to be believed and more likely to be blamed
Here’s the link to the Georgetown study that can be added to the newsletter:
Feel free to include this in your resources section or as part of the discussion on adultification bias and its impact on Black girls.
Girlhood Interrupted: The Erasure of Black Girls’ Childhood https://genderjusticeandopportunity.georgetown.edu/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/girlhood-interrupted.pdf.
Black women’s bodies have been commodified and fetishized for centuries—from the exploitation of enslaved women to today’s media, where our features are praised on others but demonized on us. This history shapes the way society sees us and, unfortunately, the way we sometimes see ourselves.
The Stupid Questions We Face
After my attack, I heard it all:
What were you wearing?
Why were you out alone?
Why didn’t you fight harder?
These questions aren’t just ignorant—they’re harmful. They place the blame on survivors instead of the perpetrators.
And let’s be real: these questions hit differently when you’re a Black woman. Society already sees us as “strong” or “angry,” making it harder for us to be seen as vulnerable or deserving of care.
Trauma Isn’t Your Fault
Sexual violence isn’t about sex—it’s about power.
Children are victimized.
Men are victimized.
Elders are victimized.
Nuns are victimized.
Black women, white women, and everyone in between are victimized.
The shame and blame belong solely to the attacker—not to you.
The Path to Healing
After my attack, I stayed in my apartment, convincing myself it was a show of strength. But inside, I was unraveling. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t relax. Every sound felt like a threat.
It wasn’t until months later that I sought therapy, and let me tell you, sis, that first step saved me. I learned that my body’s hypervigilance and fear weren’t weaknesses—they were survival mechanisms.
Here’s what I learned about healing:
It’s Not Linear: Some days you’ll feel strong; other days, you won’t. Both are okay.
Therapy Helps: A good therapist can help you unpack the lies trauma tells you and rebuild your sense of safety.
It’s Never Your Fault: No matter what society or your inner critic says, the blame isn’t yours.
Resources for Healing
If you’ve experienced sexual violence, know this: You are not alone, and you are not to blame.
RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): RAINN
The Black Women’s Blueprint: BWB
Free Counseling for Military Service Members and Veterans: Give an Hour
Reflection Prompt
What’s one societal narrative about Black women that you’re ready to let go of, and how can you reclaim your story?
Final Thoughts
As Black women, we’ve been taught to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, but it’s okay to put it down. You deserve safety, support, and healing. Trauma might change you, but it doesn’t define you.
Rooting for your healing,
Dr. Brooklyn Chick 🌱✨
