The power of black motherhood: Moving beyond the statistics of maternal mortality

-Black mothers are lions. -Black mothers are the epitome
of strength. -Beautiful, powerful,
often overlooked. -Superheroes. We carry the world
on our shoulders, we raise kings and queens,
and support our husbands, and work nine-to-fives,
and all in heels. It’s like magic. -I say black mothers
are resilient because the battle
of becoming a mother, as a black woman, is not easy. -Typically the stacks are
against us at the beginning, and not necessarily only with
the maternal mortality rate. Just in, you know,
family dynamics, um, with the awareness, sometimes living
in neighborhoods that may not have a lot
of support or resources. And no matter what
your socioeconomic status is, you definitely need support. -It’s wonderful that
the maternal mortality rate is being talked about,
that it’s on policy agendas, it’s important,
it affects black women most, it affects indigenous women,
it affects queer people, it affects white women
and white families — everybody in this country. So, it’s very important,
however, the fear that’s, I think, becoming, um,
an effect of all of this news, being pregnant and being black
is not a death sentence. -Labor and delivery, pregnancy,
childbirth, has become such a business, and though I do feel like there
is a need for doctors, but I feel like
if you’re able to look at the different options
that you have, whether it’s finding a midwife
or finding a doula, or a combination of all three —
knowing your rights and being able to be well versed
in what your body can do, and the potential risks
that may be involved, you can really make an informed
decision about your birth plan. -The numbers are so scary.
To actually hear it? And that’s what the great thing
is about, um, having a tribe of women,
some that you don’t even know. ‘Cause in the social
media world, we have the ability to be
together without being together. And so I think that we are using
our voices more, collectively. And it seems so much harder
when you feel like you’re facing
something like this on your own. But when you have other women
you can count on, I think black mothers now
are standing together, and they’re making
more of a protest, and they’re putting it
in the front of things and making it have to be heard. -I really didn’t have a tribe
with my first child, or my second child. Took me until I was 34 to really find a tribe of women
that I could connect with. So, by reaching out
to older women that have gone
through the experience, leaning on them,
asking them questions, seeking counsel and guidance,
that’s the way to go. -While we can hope
that the system changes, and we can hope
that the hospitals and caregivers
are more attentive to our needs, it should empower us
to walk into these settings, um, fully informed. It’s a call to action
for us to say, every time I visit the doctor, I’m going in there
with a tool kit, and with questions,
and with my own research, and I’m not going to be passive
in this interaction. -We have always been
strong women, I think it’s just a matter
of the way the world has perceived
our strength, right? So, the best part
is being able to — to birth children
and raise them up, and instill this legacy in them,
to watch them blossom, and see who
and what they are going to be, and to watch
how people’s perception of us, as a people, is so changed. I think that’s a beautiful thing
to have that much power and that much blessing over,
you know, a child, and see what they turn into. I just thank God
that I’m able to do so.

2 Replies to “The power of black motherhood: Moving beyond the statistics of maternal mortality”

  1. I call horseshit! So why are so many of their children in Prison or out in the streets, selling drugs, robbing and killing. This video is all bullshit. White Mothers always know where their kids are

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