Gaslighting Black Women is the Supersport

Lately I’ve been scrolling through social media and one thing keeps jumping out: gaslighting Black women is aSupersport. And no, it’s not new. It’s just that now, we have the language to call it what it is: systemic gaslighting.

Other groups excel at sports. Football. Swimming. Cricket. But when it comes to gaslighting? Institutions, men, the media — everybody seems to think Black women are the playing field. From the doctor’s office to the office kitchen, it’s always game time.

The Doctor’s Room Diet

My most recent gaslighting Black women moment happened in a doctor’s office. Routine check-up. Nothing dramatic. He glances at the chart and announces — with the confidence of a man reading the shipping forecast — that I’m obese.

Obese? Me? I looked over my shoulder to see if there was someone else behind me. Because I am many things, but obese isn’t one of them.

I left with a prescription for doubt and, like any woman who doesn’t want to die before her time, I went on a diet. Two weeks of salads, green juices, and sorrow. The scales? Silent. They said, “Sis, we’re not moving. Try again.”

And then I realised: this wasn’t me. This was systemic gaslighting in health care. He didn’t see me as a Black woman with hips, thighs, curves that BMI charts don’t account for. He just saw a number. Apparently losing 12kg would “fix” me. But if I lost that much, I’d look like I was auditioning for a famine documentary.

So I came off the diet, had some jollof, and remembered: the issue wasn’t me. It was gaslighting.

Celebs Get Gaslit Too

Don’t think it’s just us everyday women. Celebrities face systemic gaslighting too. Whoopi Goldberg, Mo’Nique, Lizzo — you name it.

Take the Williams Sisters. Their entire careers have been overshadowed by coded language. “Too strong. Too masculine. Or, Too aggressive.” Meanwhile, white athletes with the same drive get praised as “competitive” or “powerful.” Serena has 23 Grand Slams. If she were white, Nike would’ve renamed their HQ after her by now.

It’s the same story in music, acting, even motherhood. Look at Black maternal health outcomes — disproportionately poor, yet when we speak about our pain, we’re told, “Are you sure it was that bad?” Yes, Karen. We’re sure.

And if millionaires with platforms and fanbases still get gaslit in public, what chance do the rest of us have in a GP surgery, HR office or courtroom?

Institutions Play the Game Best

Gaslighting Black women is institutional. Health care, politics, the media, education — everywhere. And why? Because we’re easy targets.

We’ve been labelled “strong” for centuries. But being “strong” wasn’t a choice. It was survival. Slavery, colonisation, racism, sexism — pick your trauma. We weren’t born strong. We became strong because the world gave us no other option.

But when we do show vulnerability? Different story. Black women’s tears versus white women’s tears.

Black woman crying in a meeting? Awkward silence. Shuffle of papers. Tissues offered like it’s your personal weakness.

White woman crying in the same meeting? Suddenly men are rushing with jackets, HR is launching investigations, and she’s on paid leave by lunch. Her tears are weaponised. Ours are dismissed.

Black Men: Step Up

And let’s be honest. Some of you, Black men, are also clocking medals in this Supersport.

Reflect on your own trauma and the toxic ideas you’ve internalised about Black women. If your only defence is to throw around the Angry Black Woman stereotype whenever you’re challenged, newsflash: you’re predictable. And boring.

Stop leaning on Black women as free labour — emotional, physical, financial. We’re not your therapists, mothers, chefs, cheerleaders and punching bags rolled into one. Do your own healing work.

Black Women: We Need Each Other

It’s not easy. We all carry our own trauma. But competing for crumbs helps no one. Less of the “one Black in the village” mentality. More sisterhood.

That means:

• Sharing resources. 
• Recommending each other for opportunities. 
• Having each other’s backs in spaces where no one else will. 

And yes, we also need boundaries. Supporting each other doesn’t mean setting yourself on fire to keep another woman warm. Solidarity is powerful, but self-preservation is too.

How Can We Change It as a Community?

Here’s the truth: waiting for white people to dismantle systemic gaslighting? That’s like waiting for the fox to secure the chicken coop. It’s not happening.

We cannot outsource our liberation. Change has to come from us.

• Create Black-led media platforms where our narratives are centred, not filtered. 
• Support Black-owned businesses, building economic power instead of begging institutions for validation. 
• Form networks of care — advocacy in health care, legal support, therapy collectives — so no one faces systemic gaslighting alone. 
• Normalise Black joy, not just Black struggle. Joy is resistance. Rest is resistance. 

Change won’t come from waiting for validation. It comes from us setting our own rules, refusing to play their game, and reminding each other daily: we are not the problem.

Gaslighting Black women is a Supersport. But the more we call it out, the more we refuse to play, the less fun it becomes for those trying to score points at our expense. Let them find another game.

© Chelsea Black ® 2025