There is a lie floating around the Black community that deserves immediate cancellation. The lie?
That we’re somehow built differently. That we can survive anything. That we can run on four hours of sleep, three side hustles, unresolved childhood trauma, workplace microaggressions, family drama, and a diet consisting primarily of caffeine and determination. And somehow be fine. Respectfully, that’s nonsense.
The phrase “the body keeps the score” is just a fancy way of saying what your lower back, blood pressure, and stress-induced eye twitch have been trying to tell you for years. Your body remembers. It remembers every time you swallowed your anger because speaking up felt dangerous. It remembers every family crisis you volunteered to manage because apparently everyone else’s emergency automatically became your responsibility. It remembers every “I’m good” you said when you were, in fact, absolutely not good. And while your mind may have moved on, your nervous system is sitting in the corner with receipts.
For generations, Black people have been celebrated for our resilience. To be clear, resilience is real. We have survived things that would have broken entire systems. We have turned struggle into art, pain into purpose, and impossible circumstances into opportunities. But somewhere along the way, resilience got confused with invincibility. It didn’t help that many of us grew up hearing some version of: “Pray about it.” “Keep pushing.” “You’ll be alright.” “Don’t claim that.”
Meanwhile, your stomach is in knots, your shoulders have been touching your ears since 2019, and your body is operating like it just got a suspicious email from life itself. The reality is that stress doesn’t disappear just because you ignore it.
The body keeps score.
Every sleepless night. Every loss you never fully grieved. Every racist encounter you pretended didn’t bother you. Every time you had to be twice as good for half the recognition. Every family expectation that landed squarely on your shoulders because you’re “the strong one.” Especially if you’re “the strong one.”
Can we talk about that title for a minute? Being called the strong one is often less of a compliment and more of an unpaid internship. The strong one gets fewer check-ins. The strong one gets assigned everybody else’s problems. The strong one is expected to absorb pressure without complaint. The strong one eventually develops mysterious neck pain and an Amazon cart full of magnesium supplements. Coincidence? The jury is still out.
What we now understand through research and lived experience is that chronic stress can contribute to real physical consequences. High blood pressure. Anxiety. Sleep problems. Chronic pain. Fatigue. Digestive issues. The body has countless ways of saying, “Excuse me, but I cannot continue carrying all this nonsense indefinitely.” And honestly? Fair. Your body was designed for survival, not for permanently living in emergency mode.
The good news is that healing works the same way. The body keeps that score, too. It remembers rest. It remembers joy. It remembers laughter so hard you have to sit down. It remembers dancing in the kitchen for no reason. It remembers saying “no” without providing a twelve-page explanation. It remembers therapy. It remembers community. It remembers peace. Every act of care leaves evidence. Every boundary is a love letter to yourself. Every nap is a small act of resistance against a culture that believes your value is tied to your productivity.
So yes, Black does crack.
Not because we’re weak. Not because we’re broken. Not because we’re failing. We crack because we’re human beings, not some damn fictional superhero! And the sooner we stop treating exhaustion as a personality trait and suffering as a badge of honor, the sooner we can build lives that are about more than survival. Because survival is impressive. But healing? Healing is the real flex.
Beauties, our skin may age beautifully, but stress still sends invoices.
Black Does Crack 
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