Dr.La-Toya S. Gaines- Owner, Family Matters Counseling

I didn’t always know I was carrying the Strong Black Woman trope on my back—it was just who I was. The responsible one. The capable one. The one who made things happen when they needed to happen.

When my mother had a stroke, just six years after surviving breast cancer, I barely flinched. I was in the final stretch of my dissertation, preparing to conduct my research and write my manuscript. But caregiving decisions had to be made. Life had to keep moving. And I told myself what so many strong Black women tell themselves: There is no one else to do this. So I will.

So I did. I didn’t pause. I didn’t cry. I didn’t ask for help. I armored up and got it done.

It wasn’t until I shared what I was carrying with a close friend—allowing myself to be fully seen, vulnerable, and held—that something in me began to shift. That was the first time I looked in the mirror and saw the cost of strength when it’s wielded like a shield. That was the moment I realized strength doesn’t have to mean silence or self-sacrifice.

Since then, I’ve walked through many identities—licensed psychologist, daughter-turned-caretaker, mother, wife—and each one has revealed a different version of strength to me. Some are nourishing. Some are inherited survival strategies that no longer serve me. I'm learning to take what I need from the strong Black woman identity and lay down what keeps me disconnected from others, and from myself.

This journey has taught me that vulnerability is not a weakness. It’s a lifeline. And now, I work every day to model that truth for my daughter—and for the women I serve—so we can all begin to redefine strength on our own terms.