Beyond the Backhand: Healing from the Sting of Black-Girl Malice

There is a specific kind of beauty in being a woman who carries a natural glow. Whether it’s your professional drive, your creative gifts, or just that "vibrant" frequency you operate on, people are instinctively drawn to you. I used to think of it as a compliment, and in many ways, it is. But I’ve learned that there is a paradox to being the light in the room.

People love the idea of the sunlight until it gets too bright.

They move into your orbit because they want to get warm. They want to bask in your energy, soak up your wisdom, and stand near your glow, hoping some of it rubs off on them. But the moment your light reveals a shadow in them, the moment your success highlights their stagnation, the climate changes.

Instead of adjusting their own vision or stepping into their own light, they reach for their sunglasses. They start trying to pull the blinds on your brilliance. They go from being your biggest fan to being your low-key critic, throwing shade just to find some relief from the heat of your harvest.

We talk all day about healing from the heartbreak of men, but we rarely discuss the internal renovation required after you’ve been backhanded by a woman you called sister-friend.

It’s a different kind of sting. It’s the compliment that feels like a jab. It’s the congratulations followed by a "but." It’s the "Black Girl Malice" that operates in whispers and reckless talk behind your back, all while smiling to your face. When you’ve been mishandled by the collective, it creates a "Keep-Away Rock" in your chest. You become hyper-vigilant. You walk into rooms with your guard up, pre-scanning every new woman for the shade before she even speaks.

But I’m learning that living in a fortress might keep the hating out, but it also keeps the healing out. You cannot find your unfiltered circle if you’re looking at everyone through a cracked lens.

In this season of my life, between the honors, my new role at Emory, and the joy of my personal life, I am meeting women who aren't looking for sunglasses. They are secure enough in their own light that mine doesn't blind them; it just adds to the room.

Here is how to move beyond the sting:

• Audit the Appetite, Not the Person: Some women only have the capacity for "low-light" friendships. They can handle you when you’re struggling, but they malfunction when you’re shining. Recognizing their capacity prevents you from taking their malice personally.

• Look for "Gardeners," Not "Gleaners": A "gleaner" only wants what they can take from your harvest. A "gardener" is too busy tending to her own roses to throw rocks at yours. Look for women who are already "full" in their own lives.

• The "Sunglasses" Litmus Test: If a woman starts acting standoffish the moment you receive a win, she’s telling you she can’t handle your climate. Don’t dim your light to make her comfortable; just let her find some shade elsewhere while you keep rising.

• Trust the New Arrivals: God is currently introducing me to women I never expected, women who celebrate me "unfiltered." Give the new connections the grace to be different from your old betrayals.

There are good-hearted women out there who truly, genuinely want to see you win for real. They aren't jealous of your sphere of influence; they are inspired by it.

I’m learning to let the backhand of the past heal so I can reach out to the sisterhood of the present. My light isn't a threat to a secure woman; it’s an invitation. If you’ve been stung, don’t retreat into the dark. There is a circle waiting for you that doesn't need sunglasses; they’re just happy to see you shine!

Continue to write your story, one healing page at a time... QP