Dear Black Women, Fighting Isn’t Our Identity

Growing up, many of us were told that as Black girls we needed to know how to fight. It wasn’t just about defending ourselves, it was an expectation. Somewhere along the way, the ability to throw hands became tied to honor, respect, and even survival. And while there’s truth in knowing how to protect yourself, there’s also a deeper truth: God never created us to live with our fists as our first language.

I’ve seen it and lived it myself. I grew up a fighter. For me, it wasn’t necessarily because of cultural pressure, it was simply in me. To this day, if pushed, I know I could still defend myself. But here’s the thing: maturity taught me that being a fighter doesn’t mean walking around looking for a fight. It doesn’t mean bragging about how many girls you’ve beat up or wearing masculinity like a badge of honor. That’s not strength, that’s bondage.

The world will label us: “angry Black woman,” “aggressive,” “masculine.” And yes, sometimes those stereotypes grow out of real behaviors that were praised when we were little girls. But as women, we don’t have to live up to false expectations. True strength isn’t about swinging first, it’s about knowing when to stand still. Proverbs 31:25 says, “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.” Notice it doesn’t say her strength is in her fists. Her strength is in her character.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe every woman should know how to defend herself if necessary. But defense is not the same as dysfunction. Fighting because you can’t articulate your feelings or because culture tells you it’s cute? That’s not protection, that’s destruction.

Instead of pushing our daughters and little sisters to toughen up with fists, what if we taught them to toughen up with faith? To be unshakable in their identity, their femininity, and their dignity? What if we pushed them to soften, not in weakness, but in wisdom? That softness is where love, partnership, and peace can live.

And brothers, this is where you step in. You can’t want a woman to be gentle and feminine while you place the weight of masculine burdens on her shoulders. Step into your role; lead with honor, kindness, and provision. When you create a safe space, women don’t have to armor up.

Sisters, being a fighter at heart isn’t wrong, but we have to be careful not to confuse survival with identity, because constantly being in fight mode can make you forget who you actually are. Your worth is not in your ability to brawl or prove how hard you are, your worth is in Christ, who calls you His beloved daughter. And as daughters of the King, we are clothed in strength, yes, but also in softness, grace, and dignity, a kind of strength that doesn’t have to be loud, aggressive, or performative to be real.

This is also why I personally detest shows like Baddies. I’ve never watched it and never will, but I’ve seen enough to recognize what it promotes, and to me it comes across as defiling and ultimately detrimental to our culture, something that should not be uplifted or normalized. I feel similarly about figures like Sexyy Red, because there are certain platforms, shows, and personas that push a mindset and behavior that shouldn’t be glorified or held up as representation.

It’s not that these things define who we are as Black women, not even close, but the reality is that culture tends to cling to what is negative far more than what is positive, and over time that begins to shape perception, especially for the younger generation who are watching, learning, and forming their identity.

Ecclesiastes 3:8 reminds us there is “a time for war, and a time for peace.” May we learn the difference, and may we raise up a generation of women who know their fight is spiritual, not just physical.