As a Black woman, I feel like I’m always pushing myself to do better whether it’s excelling in school, handling multiple jobs, or meeting life’s demands. But along with all of this, society expects me to stay strong, composed, and, above all, to “look good” no matter the circumstances. “Being Black and Looking Good While Chronically Ill” reminded me of how “looking good” often makes people overlook the emotional struggle behind the polished surface. While I don’t have a chronic illness, I can definitely relate to the pressure of presenting a flawless image for everyone else’s comfort. The burden of “looking good” isn’t just about appearance, it’s about hiding our real selves. We’re expected to show up as perfect versions of ourselves, and anything less risks being judged or dismissed. The emotional toll this takes is real. It’s draining to keep up a facade of strength when, inside, I’m just trying to survive like everyone else. I sometimes wonder: If I let my guard down and show my vulnerable side, will people still see me as capable? Or will they think I’m less valuable because I no longer fit the image they’re comfortable with?
The pressure to always be strong is exhausting. In “You Are Not Entitled to Our Deaths”, the author talks about how society demands marginalized people, especially Black women, to sacrifice their own needs for the comfort of others. This really resonated with me because I’ve felt that exact pressure to hold it all together, no matter how much it costs me. But through these readings, I’m starting to realize that real strength doesn’t mean hiding my true self. It’s about showing both my resilience and vulnerability. Let’s stop pretending to be perfect. True strength lies in embracing both our power and our humanity—because we are enough, exactly as we are. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop pretending for others and start living for ourselves.
Unruly Bodies 
I really hear you on this—there’s such an exhausting expectation to constantly “look good” and stay strong, especially as a Black woman. It’s like society wants you to be perfect for everyone else’s comfort, but doesn’t leave space for your real struggles or humanity. The pressure to always appear strong, even when you’re falling apart inside, can be so draining. I also resonate with the idea that true strength isn’t about perfection—it’s about embracing all parts of ourselves, including vulnerability. We need to stop pretending for others and start valuing ourselves as we are. Thank you for sharing this powerful reflection.
I feel you 1000% on all of this. There’s something so terrifying about showing up as your true self. A self that is less than perfect, less than 100%, but no one can be all the time. I think it’s disgusting, and like you said, exhausting that we have to be constantly outperforming ourselves just to be met with the same level of respect as everyone else. This type of masking is underacknowledged and underappreciated, especially when it gets to be too much. I know I always find myself on the edge of burning or crashing out, and I don’t want to be, but the world doesn’t give me much of an option. I’ve been working on trying to unlearn this myself and I found a really great tweet (I wish I still had it saved), but it essentially talked about the art of disappointing others. That in fact, especially us a Black women, should be more welcoming to the idea of falling short of society’s impossible expectations — and I think that is a lesson I’m still learning.
Hey, I hear you out on this post. I believe there is a huge expectation from people of color to portray themselves in a way that makes them acceptable in society. No one should have to fake an image of their selves to please society but, I truly understand the pressure that comes from it. I hope you are able to express yourself more often without having constant pressure on you. It can be exhausting to be in those shoes and as a society we need to do better.
I completely agree with what you’re saying. The pressure to always appear strong, polished, and capable can be overwhelming, especially when it feels like society often values the image of perfection over being human. It’s exhausting to carry that weight, knowing that any vulnerability might be misinterpreted as weakness or incompetence. I have seen first hand the pressures placed on black women on social media. Social media is a brutal place and if one hair is even misplaced on a black woman there is always someone in the comments tearing down her appearance. Just know that your worth is far beyond any image or societal standard.
I completely agree—it’s exhausting to constantly navigate the expectation of toning down or hiding parts of who you are just to fit in. The fact that Black women, in particular, are often pressured to downplay their identity only to be judged when they don’t conform is a harsh reality. It’s deeply unfair that society creates these stereotypes, and the emotional labor it takes to constantly adjust is often overlooked.
This is so real. It’s really hard to show up with vulnerability when we live in a patriarchal society in which women, especially women of color, and particularly Black women don’t confirm to a very narrow standard of physical appearance. As a woman of color, I too feel the pressure to show up every day looking good, and honestly, not just from others. In another class I learned about the concept of the Panopticon, where women live under structures that teach us to govern and police ourselves, to judge ourselves when we don’t fit a certain image. I am doing the work to unwire that mentality, and a big part of it involves stepping away from alignment with the Eurocentric beauty standard in which women of color are only accepted if they present themselves as extremely attractive. And I balance that with my own desire to look good for myself!
I agree with you on these expectations that Black women have to uphold and as a Black woman it’s so exhausting having to feel this way all the time. The fact that our expectation is to look pretty and not show a slight bit of emotion towards something that triggered that emotion in fear that we would be labeled an “angry black woman” is incredibly sad. And this image that we always have to uphold can be so detrimental to our mental. And that’s why I love Loverjoy’s story so much because when her image was put against she used it to her advantage to help other people.