When Being the Strong One Becomes a Requirement

A caveat worth stating plainly: Black women are not a single experience. What follows will resonate for some women and not others, and nothing here treats culture, family, or identity as a problem to be corrected. My interest is narrower and more practical — what happens when strength becomes compulsory.

When "you're so strong" stops feeling like a compliment

Strength is a resource. It is also, often, a genuine inheritance — hard-won, protective, and something to be proud of. The difficulty is not strength itself. It is the moment strength becomes an expectation rather than a choice.

When it is assumed, there is little room left for vulnerability, help, rest, anger, grief, uncertainty, being cared for, or simply not being the person who handles it this time. Resilience becomes a job description you never applied for.

The woman everyone relies on

It usually shows up across every domain at once. You are the one your family calls in a crisis. The one who coordinates care for a parent. The one who mentors the newer people at work without it appearing anywhere in your role. The steady friend. The reliable partner. The person whose competence has quietly become everyone's contingency plan.

None of that is a stereotype and none of it is your fault. It is what happens when capability meets need repeatedly and no one renegotiates the arrangement. Much of the cost lands as burnout and chronic over-functioning.

Success doesn't eliminate the need to be cared for

If you are accomplished, the assumption tends to be that you are fine. You have the title, the credentials, the résumé other people describe with a certain reverence. So no one checks.

Achievement does not reduce the human need for care, tenderness, or a relationship where you are not the most competent person in the room. It often just makes that need harder to admit.

You should not have to translate yourself

It is important that you feel comfortable talking about race, culture, family, gender expectations, achievement, leadership, relationships, and history as part of the work rather than as a digression that requires context first. Culturally responsive therapy and coaching means the frame is already wide enough for your life. You spend the hour on your actual concerns rather than on background.

What therapy may make room for

Grief. Anxiety. Trauma. Vulnerability. Family roles and the resentment that can grow inside them. Longstanding relational patterns. Emotional exhaustion. Experiences connected to race and identity that you have been managing without discussing.

Frequently these are tied to family patterns older than you, which is where systemic therapy earns its keep.

What coaching may make room for

Leadership decisions. Career transitions. Boundaries. Visibility, and what it asks of you. Learning to request support before you are depleted. Redefining success on terms you actually chose. Saying no. Moving from over-responsibility to intentional responsibility — and deciding what strength should look like at this stage of your life.

Coaching is not mental health treatment, and I will not offer it as a substitute for care you need. When it is the right fit, coaching for accomplished women is where those decisions get made and practiced.

Strength without compulsory suffering

This is the distinction the whole page rests on. Endurance and strength are not the same thing. Enduring is what you do when there is no other option. Strength — real strength — includes the freedom to stop, to be held, to say this is more than I can carry right now, and to still be regarded as capable afterward.

The goal is not a less strong woman. It is strength that no longer requires suffering as proof.

Please Don't Call Me Strong Right Now

This is not a passing interest of mine. It is the subject of my ongoing video series, Please Don't Call Me Strong Right Now, where I talk with guests about strength, exhaustion, support, emotional labor, culture, relationships, and what the women everyone relies on actually need from the people who love them.

If this page describes something familiar, the series may give you language for it before you ever speak to me.

Frequently asked questions

What does "Strong Black Woman" mean?

It refers to a widely recognized expectation that Black women will be resilient, self-sufficient, and endlessly capable — often regardless of what they are carrying. It began, in part, as a source of pride and protection. It becomes costly when strength stops being a resource a woman draws on and becomes a requirement she cannot set down.

Is being strong unhealthy?

No. Strength is a real resource, and resilience is not a symptom. The difficulty is expectation — when strength is assumed rather than chosen, and there is no room left for rest, grief, anger, uncertainty, or being cared for.

Why can asking for help feel difficult?

Because for many women it has not historically been safe or reliable. If help came with judgment, obligation, or disappointment, self-sufficiency was the sensible adaptation. Asking now requires unlearning something that once protected you.

Do you work with successful and professional Black women?

Yes. A substantial part of my practice is accomplished women — executives, physicians, attorneys, academics, entrepreneurs, clinicians, educators, and leaders — who are respected in every room and privately depleted.

Do you provide both therapy and coaching?

Yes. I am a licensed marriage and family therapist and a coach. They are distinct services with distinct purposes, and I keep that distinction clear rather than blending them.

How do I know whether I need therapy or coaching?

If you are carrying grief, trauma, anxiety, or distress that affects your daily life and relationships, therapy is the right setting. If you are functioning well and want to change how you lead, decide, and set limits, coaching often fits. A consultation is usually enough for us to tell together.

About Dr. Erica Wilkins

I am Dr. Erica Wilkins, LMFT and Coach — a licensed marriage and family therapist, coach, author, former professor, and clinical supervisor. My work sits at the intersection of clinical depth, family systems, and cultural responsiveness, and it has been shaped as much by the clinicians I have trained as by the clients I have seen.

Read more about my background and training, see my work with women who are successful but exhausted, or begin a conversation.