Origin Story

 The Rise and Fall of a Black Superwoman…and Her Rebirth   

If I could go back in time and change anything about my life, I would change the way I fully committed to fulfilling the legacy of the strong Black woman.  Spending a lifetime trying to follow the blueprint of this legendary superwoman has done more damage to my mental and physical health than I care to admit.  Putting on the cape meant spending my entire existence trying to embody the unattainable:  perfection.  This never-ending pursuit of perfection allowed me to feed the illusion of being superhuman, while enabling others to circulate the false narrative of me as subhuman.  And somehow, both parties failed to see the most important part of the intersection between my superhuman and subhuman existence:  the human. 

For my part, I have suppressed the tears I want to cry every time this world reminds me how much it hates me for taking up space, so I will never be a victim.  I have refused to slow down, despite the exhaustion I feel from having to work twice as hard as my peers to prove my worth, so I will never be accused of being lazy.  I have refused to accept failure—or even mistakes—in any capacity, so I will never be the source of satisfaction for anyone who thinks I am not good enough.  And I have denied myself the pleasure of asking for help, even when I really need it, so I will never fail to prove I earned my success.  I have taken my fear, sadness, pain, and vulnerability and tucked them away inside my cape, ignoring that this anchor I carry on my back has always been too heavy to allow me to fly.    

As for them, they have decided I don’t deserve respect because I’m too loud when I speak up against all the forces trying to hold me down; that I don’t deserve love because my natural features and traits are only desirable in women that don’t look like me; that I don’t deserve culturally competent healthcare because my pain is not real; that I don’t deserve privilege because I can take whatever I get and make something out of nothing; and that I don’t deserve protection because I’m not afraid to stand up for the voiceless and forgotten. 

Regardless of your perspective, a Black woman’s humanity is always overlooked, even when she is standing right in front of you.  It is time for all of us to open our eyes and hearts to see the human we try so hard to ignore.  It is time to find strength in our weaknesses.  It is time to admit we cannot do it all.  It is time to find allies who truly understand who we are.  It is time to release our capes.   

I started Emare Chivaox because I finally understand that for Black women to live—free from the fallacy that our worth is measured by the weight of the burdens we carry—the tradition of becoming a superwoman must die.  For far too long, I have been afraid to be vulnerable because I thought weakness would bring an end to the legacy of the incredible women who raised me.  However, I misunderstood the purpose of their sacrifice.  My intrepid mother and stoic grandmother always put themselves last, so I could choose to put myself first.  I am finally making that choice and moving forward, my purpose is to empower others to do the same. 

Let’s take control of our narrative and stop lowering our voices to make others feel comfortable.  Let’s live boldly and stop diminishing our presence to make others feel powerful.  Let’s pull back the curtain on our strength and reveal the vulnerability that lies beneath, so they can see us—truly, see us.  And when they do, and the time to answer the call arises, they will understand what it means to stand with us, as allies, shoulder to shoulder, side by side, together…as one. 

Welcome to Emare Chivaox.