Why Black Women Don’t Owe You a Smile

I recently had a conversation that struck me. A well-meaning, well-intentioned White man expressed sadness that his Black partner—who was raised in Mississippi and grew up witnessing violent acts of racism, including the lynching of her family members—doesn’t share his love for the United States. He explained how his family immigrated to this country and found opportunity, and while he acknowledges that he has had a different experience than his partner, he finds it difficult to understand why she doesn't share his sense of patriotism.

This isn't the first time I’ve encountered this sentiment from White people. There’s a persistent fixation on the fact that Black women, in particular, aren’t smiling enough, aren’t cheerful enough, or don’t show the same love for this country that others do. I can’t help but ask: why is this so hard to understand?

When Black people express dissatisfaction, discontent, or even anger toward the United States, White people often take it as a personal attack, as though we are rejecting their love for the country. But we have to ask, what has this country really done for Black people?

Instead of empathizing with their partner’s pain, some White people focus on their discomfort that the person they love doesn’t share the same experience. It’s understandable that this would feel uncomfortable. But discomfort isn’t a reason to dismiss or sideline someone’s lived reality.

It’s important to recognize that for centuries, the safety of Black people has been predicated on White people feeling comfortable. Look at the tragic case of Emmett Till, a 14-year-old Black boy who was brutally murdered because a White woman claimed to feel threatened by him allegedly whistling at her. The discomfort she felt—real or imagined—precipitated the violent events that led to his death. Even after decades, when she later admitted that she had lied, there was no justice for Emmett Till’s family. He paid the ultimate price with his life because a White woman claimed to feel uncomfortable.

This isn’t just a story from the past—it’s a reality that Black people face every day. No matter what is going on in our community or in the country, we are still expected to show up and smile. We carry the weight of centuries of trauma, the pressure of being responsible for creating change, and the constant anxiety of simply trying to survive.

Empathy is crucial if we are going to move forward. And a critical part of this empathy is recognizing that it is not enough to simply acknowledge inequality. White men, in particular, need to actively use their privilege and their positions of power to dismantle the systems that continue to harm others. It’s not enough to express sadness or frustration that the people around you feel differently. There has to be action.

Instead of wondering why Black women don’t smile, White men should be asking themselves, what can I do with my privilege to change the structures that make Black women feel like they have little to smile about? This is about leadership. It’s about using the platforms and influence one has to address systemic racism, sexism, and oppression head-on. If those in positions of power continue to ignore these issues, nothing will change.

It’s not as simple as just 'smiling more.' The hard truth is that this country was not built to support anyone outside of White, cisgendered men. The structures, policies, and institutions that form the backbone of our nation have historically been designed to oppress, marginalize, and silence minority groups. Even today, we continue to fight against laws and systems that disproportionately harm others.

So why would anyone expect someone who has been oppressed, violated, and victimized to express love for their oppressor?

Let’s be clear: empathy without action is just lip service. If we truly want to see a country where all people can thrive, it’s time to do more than observe from the sidelines. White men in positions of power have a unique responsibility to use their privilege to challenge the systems that continue to harm Black women and other marginalized groups.

So, what can you do today?

• Start by listening—really listening—to the voices of Black women and other marginalized people. Seek to understand their lived experiences.
• Use your influence to call out injustice and advocate for policy changes that protect and uplift, not silence and marginalize.
• Challenge the systems within your own spheres of influence—whether at work, in government, or in your community—that perpetuate inequality.

Leadership isn’t about comfort. It’s about using your position to make a difference even when it’s uncomfortable. If we want to build a future where everyone has something to smile about, the work starts now.? It’s time to stop demanding smiles and start building a nation where joy and equity are a reality for everyone.

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