Black Women- Paid In Full

One of my favorite movies is Robert Townsend’s classic cult hit, Hollywood Shuffle. There is a scene where Robert imagines he runs an acting school and begins with a group of enslaved people running toward their freedom. The “Harriet Tubman-like” Black woman in the opening scene turns to a Black man and tells him, “we’s aint’ going back and ‘dat ‘dere is our freedom.” She points forward and climbs out of a ditch, leading a trail of Black men. The camera is then placed on a Black man named Mandigo, who utters, “I can’t wait to get my freedom.” Apparently, this man is loved by three women, one of whom is white. Mandigo decides to make sure the white woman gets out of the ditch first before he climbs out and leaves the two Black women behind. Townsend, in that 1 minute and 45 seconds, offers us a glimpse of the Black woman’s plight. One that depicts her as this ultra-determined, fearless leader while contrasting this symbolic representation with one that depicts her devalued status.

When I recently decided to watch that scene again in my older self, it struck a deep emotional chord. I have had a few experiences where my voice could have been more understood and acknowledged. There have been incidences where men take a piece of my work and use it without my acknowledgment or permission. Not only that, they more often positioned themselves as an expert without referencing or deferring to my expertise. I put in the “labor of love”.

Our society in the U.S. has exploited Black women’s “labor of love”. Throughout history, society has devalued the bodies and minds of Black women through unfair compensation structures and reward systems, yet simultaneously benefitting from them. Our love, intellectual, and physical labor become commodified and used to achieve a mean — like that scene in Hollywood Shuffle where the Black woman led those Black men to freedom. Yet, we are left behind, passed over, and overlooked.

Johnson (2019), writes that “Black women and girls have bravely looked beyond societal problems to imagine and create new futures in which not only Black women and girls but everyone can live safe, happy, liberated lives”. Black women’s labor is the primary fuel behind the U.S. workforce, particularly in jobs requiring service, care, and social and racial justice-oriented work. Black women’s labor has been a primary driver behind Black people’s freedom — Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth — yet our story remains the same. Black women are often not credited for the labor they have done and continue to do to build new futures.

Black women are devalued, under-compensated, and continue to experience barriers to leadership opportunities. Gender norms and institutional racism often means that Black women occupy positions of service and are less likely to hold positions in wealth management and executive leadership. Payscale (2022) notes how “when women enter occupational fields traditionally dominated by men, the pay for positions in those fields drops”. And according to Government Accountability Office (2022), Black women earned about 62 cents to every dollar earned by a white man. These trends may be the most evident in the nonprofit sector, comprised of mostly “workers in education, health care, and social assistance” (American Association of University Women, 2018).

Women make up about 75 percent of these workers. Some of the most highly experienced and educated Black women are overrepresented in line staff and middle management positions and underrepresented at higher leadership levels (Biu, 2019). The Race to Lead survey found that only 19 percent of Black women indicated holding Executive Director and CEO roles. We cannot keep extracting the labor of Black women to take care of this nation.

I come from a long line of Black women laborers; those who have had to sacrifice the most, give up the most and work in the shadows, unrecognized or valued. I know these women’s inventions, the ideas and brilliance coopted and stolen, and the labor of love they put into building the dreams of the men around them. I have had to lift these women’s names in my narrative just as much as I have fought hard to lift my own. I know the story of bringing our “labor of love” to the workforce, into institutions and organizations, and seeing others profit from that labor. Our rate of return seems minimal, and compensation structures remain imbalanced.

I am tired of that shit!

I want to rewrite the script of that scene in Hollywood Shuffle. It begins with the “Harriet Tubman-like” Black woman getting paid in the quest for freedom, she points forward, and the men clamber to ensure her pathway is safe while she and the other Black women are protected. The camera is then placed on the Black man named Mandigo, who tells those two Black women, “My freedom is your freedom, and until you are free, then I sure cannot be.” I want him to hold those women as they climb forward out of the ditch, and we see Black women elevated.

I want Black women’s back pay, our reparations, and our names scribed on almost every building, institution, and organization in the U.S. I want you to say our name and mention us every second whenever this country thinks about freedom movements, innovation, and advancement. I want whoever decides to read this to do the following:

Tell more stories about Black women.

Tell a Black woman you value all she is and praise her.

Increase the compensation structure for Black women at your organization, institution, and office.

Place tags around your organization or office that states, “A Black woman’s labor more than likely contributed to this”. Maybe even consider adding these as metal nameplates and putting them on many of our buildings in the U.S.

Let us rewrite scripts, elevate Black women, and ensure they get paid in full.