"Get Somebody Else To Do It"! I'm No Longer In Survival Mode

This morning, my daughter walked into the kitchen holding a small container of cinnamon seasoning.

“Mommy, can you open this?”

I looked at her and said, “Go ask your brother.”

Her 13-year-old brother.

She walked away, handed it to him, and within seconds, the cinnamon was open.

As simple as that moment was, it made me think about being a Black woman.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve become everyone’s first call.

Need someone to fix it?

Call her.

Need someone to carry it?

Ask her.

Need someone to sacrifice?

She’ll do it.

Need someone to hold the family together, organize the event, comfort everyone else, work overtime, pray for everybody, and somehow never break?

Find the Black woman.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that our value is tied to our availability.

That if we’re capable, we’re responsible.

That if we can do it, we should do it.

But capability does not create obligation.

Just because I could have tried to open that cinnamon doesn’t mean I needed to.

There was another capable person in the house.

So I let him do it.

Black women, we have to become comfortable saying four words that may change our lives:

Get somebody else to do it.

Need someone to volunteer?

Get somebody else to do it.

Need someone to stay late again?

Get somebody else to do it.

Need someone to absorb the emotional labor?

Get somebody else to do it.

Need someone to rescue everyone while neglecting herself?

Get somebody else to do it.

This isn’t about laziness.

It’s about refusing to carry responsibilities that were never ours to begin with.

We’ve mistaken over functioning for love.

We’ve mistaken exhaustion for strength.

We’ve mistaken self-sacrifice for womanhood.

And we’ve paid for it with our peace, our health, our joy, and sometimes even our identity.

As women, we’re allowed to delegate.

We’re allowed to receive help.

We’re allowed to believe that other people are capable.

We don’t have to be the default problem-solver simply because we’ve always been one.

One of the greatest acts of feminine wisdom is recognizing that everything does not require your hands.

Sometimes your job isn’t to open the jar.

Sometimes your job is to point to the person who can.

So here’s my new affirmation:

Get somebody else to do it.

Not because I’m incapable.

Not because I don’t care.

But because I’m no longer measuring my worth by how indispensable I can be.

I’m making room for rest.

I’m making room for softness.

I’m making room for partnership.

And most importantly, I’m making room for a version of womanhood that doesn’t require me to carry the weight of the world just to prove that I’m strong.

Because I have no desire to be known as the strong Black woman anymore.

I’d rather be known as a well-supported one.

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