by Sharisse Tracey

When white actresses like Kate Winslet, Melanie Griffith and supermodel Christie Brinkley have a trio of kids with three different dads, it’s a trend. When I do it, it’s ghetto. There's even a reality show on the E! Network showcasing the exploits of The Stewarts and The Hamilton’s, as in forever young Rod Stewart and forever tan George Hamilton. These men have a lady in common: Alana Stewart. She’s the mother of their children and in Hollywood that’s called entertainment. But when a black woman, like me, has multiple kids with more than one man, I get labeled ghetto, promiscuous, easy, irresponsible, uneducated and even a whore.

by Anna Gibson

At the MTV Video Music Awards, Nicki Minaj decided to read award show host Miley Cyrus like an open book. Shortly after Nicki ascended the stage to accept the Best Hip-Hop Video award, she ripped Miley for her comments about Nicki earlier this week. She said, “Now back to this b**** that had a lot to say about me in the press. Miley, what’s good?”

by Malaika Jabali

Newspaper stories identified the race of the accused, assumed without question that the accused [Black] person was guilty, used a number of dehumanizing terms to label the Black victim—e.g., ‘wretch,’ ‘fiend,’ and ‘desperado’—[and] assumed the Black person's race predisposed him to commit violent crimes.

The aforementioned quote by Professor Richard Perloff was not written to describe a scene in 2015. When discussing black people accused of crimes and subsequently killed by vigilante racists, Perloff is referring to a period in American news media in the early 1900s, a period when 78% of the country’s lynching victims were black. In the midst of reporting on blacks being victimized by white brutality, news media shifted the narrative to enforce the supposed immutable violence of black people. A century later in 2015, almost nothing has changed.

by Bee Quammie


We weren’t meant to be here.

When I say “we,” I mean Black women. When I say “here,” I mean existing in a place of self-confidence. If America’s greatest fear is an educated Black man, the world’s greatest source of confusion can be found in a self-assured Black woman.

by Felice León


By now you’ve heard of the fight involving seven teenage Black girls (six suspects and one victim) that took place in a Brooklyn McDonald’s. The video was uploaded online and went viral, making national headlines—not only for the fight itself, but the media’s frenzied obsession with the teen girls involved.

by Kenya Carlton

by Anonymous


I am getting married soon. My fiancé and I decided to write personalized vows instead of using the traditional ones. As I began writing my vows, I reflected on my journey to love and marriage. Being a first-time bride at this stage in my life (early 40’s), my motivations and hopes for marriage are quite different than they were twenty years ago when my dream was to be married by 26 and to have 2 children by 30. Back then, I was wanted all the things that society had taught me are necessary for women to be happy and complete—for me to be an acceptable woman.

by Gina Torres


VH1 has quietly become the unofficial network of all things ratchet and hood, as they consistently churn out TV shows that regurgitate and perpetuate age-old stereotypes about Black women. Their latest offerings of “Sorority Sisters” and “Bye Felicia” on top of their “Love and Hip-Hop” franchise is a testament to this.

Last week, I read an opinion piece posted on For Harriet, critiquing Black women’s backlash to VH1’s new show, Sorority Sisters. I found the title, “So Now You're Mad?: A Response to ‘Sorority Sisters’ from a Sorority Sister” to be taunting, and I found the piece to be riddled with problematic generalizations.

by Kinsey Clarke


Last week, TIME Magazine asked which popularly used words in 2014 should be banned in 2015. The list contained many words that originated in African American Vernacular English and are often used by black women. TIME’s list was offensive, as For Harriet explained in another article here.

by Sharon Lynn Pruitt

I spent a good portion of my life trying to be better than the best. I was always the first to jump at an extra assignment or task, to show everyone that I was capable. But for what? Why?

by Elizabeth Wellington

Something about the models walking the DKNY catwalk last month in coifs that Lucky magazine called "slicked-down tendrils" - known in my hood as baby hair - tweaked my Queens-reared soul.

I felt a similar pull in April when Marie Claire called Kendall Jenner's cornrows "epic." Hmmph - no one ever declared mine anything but necessary for swimming in the summertime.

by Tamerra Griffin

I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Shortly after Alessandra Stanley’s piece of work on Shonda Rhimes as an “angry black woman” ran in The New York Times, I began receiving exclamation-heavy text and Facebook messages directing me to the story and inviting me to join the collective deep sigh side eye. One of my friends even told me to grab a glass of wine to help me get through it. I did not listen, but I should have.

What is a sassy black sidekick? Past and present television shows have used this trope to relegate black women to a sidekick position whose primary function is to entertain, act as the butt of a joke, or be an accessory.

by Janice Fuller-Roberts

Recently, the news and the Internet have been abuzz with stories about Facebook’s Sheryl Sandberg and pop star Beyoncé Knowles and their mission to ban the word “bossy” as it applies to girls and women.  Their campaign makes sense.  It’s no secret that in America, attributes praised in men are often vilified in women.  Where a man is bold, confident, daring and a real “go-getter”, a woman is aggressive, bitchy, cocky or a “ball-breaker”.  In other words, assertive girls and women get called “bossy”.

by Stephanie Gates

Last week, I was sitting in a room full of white people, and I pulled out my banana and ate it. I wasn’t the only brown face in a sea of whiteness. There was another woman of color in the two-day workshop, but there’s something markedly different about being the only Black person in a room full of white folk.

Jamaica Kincaid is one of the preeminent literary voices of our time. That's why her work is featured on our list of 100 Books by Black Women everyone must read. But many Black women know that exceptional brilliance or achievement will not shield you from the closely-held misconceptions many hold about our womanhood. In a recent interview with The American Reader, Kincaid explains why critics so often call her "angry."

(PRWeek) In Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead, Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg writes: "Authentic communication is not always easy, but it is the basis for successful relationships at home and real effectiveness at work. Yet people constantly back away from honesty to protect themselves and others. We are so rarely brave enough to tell the truth."

A large part of our history as Black women has been using our voices to speak up for ourselves and our people. We have given speeches, marched in rallies and even exercised our voices through artistry. There is an undying need many of us have to speak up for one another but where do we draw the line between speaking up for some of us and speaking for all of us?

With the prevalence of social media in our day and age, it seems that everyone has an opinion they want to be heard, a critique they must give and a point they must get across. We find it necessary—dire even, to use our first amendment rights and map our ideas and beliefs onto anyone that will listen.

While speaking out is necessary when trying to engage minds or promote change, it is important for us to question whether or not our claims are as astute as we think they are. People (myself included) are quick to refute opinions they disagree with and at times, will take offense to them if they are not properly backed up with facts or if they are expressed in a way that generalizes an entire group of people.