Author, Stella Riunga Rop.
As I wrote this, we were just three hours away from the beginning of 2025. The fireworks were already popping and the partying had begun. For me, well, the first few minutes of 2025 were going to find me where the first few minutes of 2024 did–happily asleep in my bed.
In November 2024, I met with some female colleagues, and one of them shared how challenging her year had been, juggling her doctoral studies with several demanding roles in different boards and at her own workplace. I was in awe of her because for sure, if I were in her shoes, every strand of hair on my head would have fallen out due to the stress and pressure. She is definitely a Strong Black Woman.
I want to announce that I am most certainly not a Strong Black Woman (SBW). My sister, once you are labelled an SBW, expect trouble. As an SBW, you will be expected to have the strength of ten elephants, the wisdom of King Solomon, skin as thick as a buffalo’s and the business acumen of Aliko Dangote, not to mention the ability to magically expand time. This SBW business is definitely not for me!
Besides publicly denouncing and rejecting the SBW title, I have founded an association I fondly call FWA–Fragile Women’s Association. As members of FWA, we accept that we are limited, and our delicate shoulders cannot bear all the world’s burdens. We applaud all the people in our lives—husbands, nannies, grandmothers, friends, drivers, outside caterers, hairdressers etc.—that help us keep the multitude of balls we are constantly juggling in the air. If not for them we’d be constantly exhausted, looking like Supergirl with a torn cape, a terrible hair day and a painful limp.
The best thing about the FWA life is that you have peace of mind and time to do the things that matter, because you are not trying to be all things to all men (and women!) at the same time. Let the SBWs conquer the world—you will find us resting at home.
Happy 2025 brethren. Cheers to not doing it all!
