It’s important to set the stage for this piece with this widely held opinion that’s supported by undeniable facts (think banning books, sanitizing artifacts and images from museums, rolling back the Voters Rights Act, etc.); we’re in the throes of a secret storm that’s no longer secret, a conscious, carefully coordinated strategy to erase uncomfortable, guilt-inducing reminders from our sordid history pertaining to slavery.
Now any way you slice it, we’re watching real time and standing witness to attempts to get us to distrust our lying eyes or books written (ahh, “Project 1619”) designed to amend, not erase, our history.
And true to form, the centerpiece of that strategy is to identify a contemporary villain, that being Black women!
So given that our nation’s original sin, slavery, remains a wound that never seems to heal, Black women are today’s proxies (think Kamala Harris, Laticia James, Fani Willis, Maxine Waters, Jasmine Crockett and, unbelievably, even Supreme Court associate justice Ketanji Brown Jackson) in a sinister strategy to roll hard earned progress back decades.
Now while you feel validated or put off by my bold assertion – or fall somewhere in between – let’s look at the realities beginning with a disturbing interview of a woman of color.
You see, I was riveted by a recent interview with Minnesota representative Ilhan Omar, the first Somali American in the U.S. Congress and the first of two Muslim women in Congress. To many, she’s a convenient distraction from the skyrocketing gas and grocery prices, an unpopular war in Iran, the Epstein files. The levels of hate and nastiness leveled against her would leave one to believe that she - at five feet three inches and120 pounds soaking wet- not nuclear bombs, Putin and other dictators, is the biggest threat to western civilization.
During the interview Mrs. Omar deftly answered difficult questions with remarkable poise, grace and even humor. At times the interviewer was red-faced and clearly uncomfortable having to ask questions to address some of the absurd accusations made about her. Totally fixated, I hung on to her every word.
But what impacted me more than anything was her account of the death threats directed at her and members of her family, stuff that left me struggling with the question, what on earth would drive someone to threaten a woman because of who she is or what she represents? And, more importantly, what responsibility do the rest of us have when we see this stuff happening?
Needing a breather and sanity check, I put those questions to three Black women whose opinions I greatly value: Fran, a newspaper editor; Gwyn, an author of several books; and Ingra, another author. As I expected, they didn’t pull their punches.
Gwyn attributed the abuse directed at Omar to racism, fear and the treatment of someone as an outsider because of her race, gender, physical appearance and religion.
Fran raised a concern shared by many: Black women appearing in political advertisements attacking other Black women vying for public office. She questioned whether those paid appearances allow forces behind the ads to shield themselves from charges of racism and sexism for criticizing a person of color.
Ingra turned the conversation to Black men.
“Sometimes there’s a need to air our dirty laundry and now is one such time.” Citing the absence of support from Black men when Georgia’s Stacey Abrams ran for governor, Ingra challenged what she sees as too little public support for Black women facing abuse, particularly from Black men with power, influence and credibility. “If you plan to write about the assault on Black women Terry, I urge you not to ignore the relative silence of Black men on this important issue.”
So, here’s the deal readers. The comments from these powerful Black women raise an uncomfortable question: Are we as willing to confront the mistreatment of Black women as we are to praise their strength? Sure, praising them is easy; confronting their mistreatment may not be so easy. However, you can’t have one without the other.
Of course, the consequences of the assault on Black women extend beyond insults and has unequal outcomes in employment, health and education.
According to the Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies, Black women’s unemployment rate rose from 5.9 percent in August to 7.3 percent in September 2026.
Further, the Institute for Women’s Policy Research reports that Black women’s federal employment declined by more than 30 percent between January and December 2025, compared with 11.6 percent for all women. For families who have depended on public service for a stable income, those losses can threaten the security built over years of work.
And yes, health figures are equally sobering.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports that in 2024, the maternal mortality rate was 44.8 deaths per 100,000 live births for Black women, compared with 14.2 for white women—more than three times as high. This measure includes qualifying deaths during pregnancy and within 42 days after pregnancy ends; it is not limited to deaths during childbirth.
These findings show why the concerns Black women raise cannot be brushed aside and easily dismissed.
Which brings me back to the challenge Ingra, Fran and Gwyn put before Black men in particular. Of course, we should not turn these women’s frustration into a blanket indictment of every Black man. Yet we cannot allow ourselves to excuse threats, humiliation or the use of stereotypes to discredit Black women.
So where do we begin? Well, how about starting with our own conduct.
When a conversation turns degrading, do we challenge it? When a woman describes unfair treatment, do we listen before dismissing her? When we judge a candidate or colleague, do we apply the same standards we would apply to a man?
Black women deserve recognition as leaders in their own right, not merely as the women who stood behind prominent Black men but the Black women who toiled in the background during the struggle for civil rights and the right to vote. Remember that.
Oh yes, my unwillingness to let Black men off the hook for not responding to assaults on Black women extends to Hispanics/Latinos, Asians, whites, institutions of faith, members of the LGBTQ community and anyone else. Your silence on the unfair treatment of Black women also speaks volumes. As Dr. king once wrote, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
In her new book, “Notes on A Backlash,” renown journalist and author April Ryan, whose first book, Black Women Will Save the World,” wrote this about the undeniable power of Black women:
“And still Black women show up. They lead. The break ground. They clear the path for those who follow. Their resilience is more than inspiring. It is a living testament of human spirit.”
In closing, when I asked Gwyn for closing thoughts on this narrative, she sent me a proverbial “chocolate cake” from which I took the slices below and saved the rest for later consumption.
She posed this question of responsibility: “Ask yourself how you want history to be written about you.” And continued with this: “Did you stand with her, vote for her, encourage her, put your money where your mouth was, or did you sit back and wait to see what would happen knowing how high the stakes were?”
Oh, wait, one more thing before I sign off.
After former VP Kamala Harris lost her bid for the White House, Baltimore mayor Brandon Scott had this to say: “America doesn’t deserve Black women!”
Humm, after connecting all the dots of evidence put forth is this narrative, hell, I’m inclined to concur.
Terry Howard is an award-winning writer, a contributing writer with the Chattanooga News Chronicle, The American Diversity Report, The Douglas County Sentinel, theblackmarket.com, recipient of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Leadership Award, and third place winner of the Georgia Press Award.