Taking Off the Cape / Why Health Equity is Self-Care for Black Women
Black women deserve rest, care, and health equity. Explore how self-care and justice intersect in our journey to healing and thriving.
Tomara A. Fisher, Esq.
10/1/20253 min read
Sis, let’s take a deep breath together. Inhale, exhale. Let the weight of the day slide off your shoulders. This is our moment to rest, to reflect, and to remember: we deserve care, love, and a world that supports our wholeness.
We’ve talked before about what it means to take off the cape—the one we wear as we juggle work, family, community, and the endless expectations placed on us as Black women. But here’s something we don’t always talk about: the way health itself, and the systems meant to support it, have not been equally designed for us. And that truth, as heavy as it is, matters deeply to our self-care.
Recently, I came across a research article that laid this out in detail: Black women’s health in America has improved over the years, yes—but we are still facing some of the steepest health disparities. From maternal mortality to chronic illness, the weight of structural racism shows up in our bodies. The study reminds us that achieving true health equity means more than fixing individual habits—it requires transforming the systems around us.
And that, my sisters, is where self-care meets social justice.


The Truth About Health Disparities
The article highlights something we’ve known in our bones for generations: Black women live with unique health challenges that cannot be explained away by “bad choices” or “not trying hard enough.”
Maternal mortality: Black women are three to four times more likely to die during pregnancy or childbirth than white women. This isn’t about education, income, or effort—wealthy, highly educated Black women face the same risks.
Chronic conditions: Hypertension, diabetes, and heart disease show up earlier and more aggressively in our lives than in many other communities.
Stress and trauma: The daily toll of navigating racism, sexism, and economic injustice leaves its imprint on our bodies—what scientists call “weathering.”
Let that sit for a second.
Our health outcomes are not accidental. They are rooted in systems that were not built for us—or worse, were built to exploit us.
Beyond the Individual: The Systems Around Us
Too often, self-care gets sold to us as bubble baths and green smoothies. And listen—there’s nothing wrong with either. But real self-care for Black women has to include something bigger: a demand for environments that let us live and thrive.
That means looking beyond individual behavior to the structures that shape our health:
Housing and neighborhoods: Safe, affordable homes and clean environments.
Economic opportunity: Jobs with fair pay, benefits, and protection from exploitation.
Access to care: Doctors who listen, hospitals that treat our pain as real, and systems that see us as human.
The study made it plain: health equity cannot be achieved without addressing these social and economic determinants. And you know what? That’s not on our shoulders as individuals to fix—it’s on society as a whole.
Rest as Resistance, Care as Power
Here’s where our capes come off.
When we rest, when we care for ourselves, we are not ignoring the fight—we are strengthening ourselves for it. Because this work of pushing for equity, of demanding change, of speaking truth about what it means to be a Black woman in America, is not light work. It takes energy. It takes wholeness.
And so, our self-care isn’t selfish—it’s strategic.
Saying no to overwork is a way of saying yes to our longevity.
Choosing joy is a way of refusing to let trauma define our days.
Gathering in community is a way of creating the networks of support that systems have failed to provide.
When we care for ourselves, we are modeling a truth that the article points toward: equity begins with recognizing our worth.
Collective Healing, Collective Power
The article ends on a hopeful note: that while the disparities are real, there is a path forward. That path includes policy change, equity-driven health care, and systems that finally, fully acknowledge our humanity.
But here’s the part I want us to hold close: this isn’t something we have to carry alone. Collective healing is real. Every time we show up for one another—whether that’s through a listening ear, sharing resources, or advocating in our communities—we’re building equity from the ground up.
So, sis, remember:
You are not alone in this.
Your health is not a burden—it is a right.
And your self-care is not just personal—it’s political, powerful, and necessary.
A Gentle Invitation
This week, I invite you to carve out a few minutes for yourself. Maybe it’s journaling, maybe it’s stretching, maybe it’s sitting quietly with a cup of tea. As you do, I want you to whisper to yourself:
“I deserve care. I deserve rest. I deserve health.”
Because we do. Every single one of us.
And while the fight for equity continues, while the systems shift slowly, we can continue to nurture ourselves and one another in ways that remind us of our inherent worth.
Sis, take off the cape. Rest your shoulders. The world may not yet be built for our thriving—but together, we are building it anew.
