Empowering the woman who builds worlds, my reflection, and does she eat pineapples?

When I think of the trope of the strong Black woman, I envision a figure who bears both burdens and joys, yet is rarely empowered to fully wield the power of "No" or "Yes" in its entirety. She is often expected to embody the grace of a virgin mother, calmly & without complaint. But is this not a redefined "Eve Complex," molded within a white male paradigm that dares to tax tampons as a luxury?

In this moment of introspection and discovery, I find myself reflecting on the Black Ballad Weekender—the catalyst for these thoughts.

A master leadership team of three delivered an empowering experience for their community of Black women, with a few men sprinkled in. If I were to fully articulate the impact this weekend had on my psyche, I’d be signing books at next year's event. Yes, I'm following through on Candice Brathwaite’s keynote #Manifesto. I’m here for 2025.

But back to a more structured thought - Powerhouse editor Jendella Benson, Founder Tobi Oredein her husband Bola Awoniyi and the entire support team pulled off something extraordinary. The sessions were among the best-curated I’ve ever attended. Every speaker was not only well-versed in their topics but also engaging and generous. The wealth of knowledge, the beautiful exchanges, and the raw, honest moments reminded me of my childhood—sitting on the stairs, peering through banister railings, eavesdropping on “grown folks’ business.” Now, as an adult, I find myself still learning, laughing, and gazing in wonder.

One session, in particular, encapsulated the entire event for me: “Everything About Our Gynaecological Health. with Yele Fafowora Dr. Aziza Sesay Dr Jennifer Owusu Adeji and Karen Arthur

As women, we carry our bodies with us wherever we go. Through our bodies, we bear the wounds and suffering of nations, yet we are also expected to birth joyous, well-rounded humans. And yet, many of us know so little about our anatomy, its transformations, and its evolution—from the clitoris to menopause. This, to me, sums up the experience of being a Black woman: navigating a world that imposes rules we often lack the time or space to unpack unless we’re fighting for survival. Otherwise, a nap or a midday bath might be our only reprieve.

In the session, we were able to discuss openly and freely about our journeys, insecurities, and dilemmas. But since leaving the room I am concious that we so often leave out the joyous moments, So I have a question that I will ask at the end of this post.

For me the energy of the weekender was distilled in a simple question: “Hi, my name is ....... , how are you finding the event?” We didn’t lead with what we do, or why we were there. We led with, “I see you, and are you feeling what I’m feeling in this moment?” Energy doesn’t lie, and the energy was Black gold in all its glory. I could wax lyrical about this event—and I will, slowly, like a saline drip easing through the system. But for now, I have a very important question for all my beautiful Black Gynaecologists: Pineapple?

So, I began this reflection on the trope of the strong Black woman and our default power stance of strength. But I must ask, (my question) from a place of joy and curiosity—especially to my Black female Gynaecologists—does eating pineapple really make a difference? A strong woman needs to know.

Tamu T. Bola Sol Lemara Lindsay-Prince Hannah àjàlá-Rahman