Today - September 22nd - bloggers, writers, political pundits, filmmakers and many other will join together in a movement called No Wedding No Womb (NWNW). NWNW's purpose is to broadcast to the nation that participants stand in unison to say we want to be apart of changing the 72% out of wedlock births in the black community. This vision began as a "light bulb" moment by social activist Christelyn Karazin and has now taken on a life of it's own by her unrelenting dedication and energy for the this cause. Below is my contribution and if you would like to read other participants contribution click here.


She’s a strong black woman, that’s what she’s called. She can bring home the bacon, raise her family single handedly, nurture a boy into a man and teach her daughters how to handle life. She’s a strong black woman. At times it’s hard to distinguish her from the plantation Mamie. When put side by side their characteristics are the same, the mentality hasn’t changed. Centuries ago we birthed her out of necessity. The storyteller, Andrew Johnson, articulates her essence in his poem Black Women:

For generations we’ve perpetuated her existence, celebrated her, relished and marveled about her. We owe our lives to her. She carried us in our most bitter times - through slavery and the civil rights. She was there in our most jubilant hour – with tears streaming down her face she choked the words Yes we can! as President Obama took his oath, knowing that sacrifices from mothers like her made it possible.

Why is it that her persona that once sustained us is now killing us? How is it that she has created a mentality that is uprooting our community at its foundation and yet we continue to give her praise? When did the metamorphosis from strong black woman to baby mama transpire and how did we not see this coming?

She’s everywhere, this strong black woman. I met her while working for the Department of Children & Families (DCF). Time after time she would recount her courageous stories through heartfelt tears and gut-wrenching candor. She’d share her remarkable tales of bravery to battle poverty and keep her children off the streets. I ran into her in corporate America. She wasn’t always conspicuous in her Rebecca Taylor suit, Nine West shoes and Coach hand-bag, but time always dispelled her facade. Education and position didn’t change her; she was a strong black woman rearing her family – alone.

At times I would ask her on the whereabouts of the children's father(s) while displaying visible disdain at his disappearance from their lives. Instantaneously, she would transform and her back would stiffen, she’d throw back her head and through pursed lips and beaded eyes she’d fume that her children didn’t need their father(s).

“I AM their father! I AM their mother! I AM all they need! They don’t need that good for nothing bastard!” A strong black woman would shriek in my office at DCF in such a loud manner her voice could be heard bellowing through the halls. A strong black woman in corporate America was far more demure, but would display much the same mannerisms whilst explaining “What can he do for my children? He can’t even maintain a job. What kind of father could he possibly be to them?”

I’d try to interject that even though she may not like her children’s father(s), the children needed the paternal connection and bond. “What about the children?” I’d ask. “Have you thought about how not having their father(s) around is hurting them?” Abruptly, she’d interrupt me and continue on a rampage that her children’s father(s) were useless, jobless, cheating, lying and the list would run on for hours if I allowed it.

A strong black woman needs to reexamine what really makes her strong; she needs to acknowledge that she might have weaknesses; she needs to look down on the innocent little face looking up at her. My fear is a strong black woman's attitude and complacency is depriving her children of one of the most basic rights they have and so desperately want – a father.

Strong Black Woman, please allow me to implore to you for a moment. I know your story: A deadbeat father who refuses to pay child support. A jobless father with no money. A cheating father who ran off with your best friend. A father who visits inconsistently.

Despite how little you may think of him, not allowing him into his children’s lives is killing them. Although, not all of your children are going to ruin, many of them are. Many of your sons are developing into men with no identity. And many of your daughters are growing into women who can’t recognize healthy male attention. Strong Black Woman we need to stop the revolving cycle of fatherlessness and end the perception that our women will only settle to be baby-mama. Strong Black Woman it's never too late to fight for your children so they won't end up a lost, confused and aimless people who have no vision and no self-worth. Many have already reached this point, but we can stop many more from getting there.

Strong Black Woman, lay down your arrogance. Suck up your pride. Admit that you cannot parent your children alone any longer. Your children’s hearts are bleeding for their father’s presence. Strong Black Woman, I know you hear their cries. Can you really afford to stifle the sounds of their pain any longer? Turn to your brother – your children’s father, your grandfather, your father, your male sibling, your uncle, a strong male figure – and tell him you need his help in raising our nation’s future. By doing this, my Strong Black Woman, you will exemplify the true essence of the strong black woman; for she is not afraid to admit that she can’t raise her children on her own. It takes a village to raise a child and the starting place is with Mom and Dad. The matter is urgent. Turn to your brother now.

To read what other NWNW participants are saying click here.