Treatmebetta

These days, it’s tough to find a space anywhere on the internet where discourse between men and women doesn’t eventually degenerate into a discussion of submission, or women’s lack thereof, when it comes to relationships. It would seem this lack is the reason for most, if not all, of the issues the sexes are currently facing when it comes to creating successful unions. 

When the women in question are Black the idea of submission in relationships is even more charged. It often finds us squarely at the center of both controversy and a good deal of criticism. 

It’s a loaded topic, especially when you consider societal expectations and the stereotypes that must logically come into play in this type of discussion. But consider: For Black women, the discourse around submission isn’t just about following traditional gender roles, it’s intricately tied to a long history of survival, strength, and resilience. Yet, despite these complexities, many people, including some Black men, criticize Black women for being “too strong” or “not submissive enough.” This criticism, however, is not only unfair — it’s deeply flawed.

Submission, when discussed in the context of Black women, stirs up a great deal of debate. But the commonly shared perception that Black women aren’t submissive, or that we are too masculine, and that is why our relationships fail, is rooted in harmful stereotypes, gendered racism, and historical factors.

Submission Through a Historical Lens: Why Black Women Had to Be Strong

Historically, Black women have been subjected to a unique set of circumstances that shaped their roles in both the public and private spheres. From slavery to systemic racism, Black women have often had to assume positions of strength and leadership, not out of choice, but out of necessity.

During slavery, Black women were forced to work alongside men in physically demanding roles. We did this while also maintaining households and taking care of families. We were often the default heads of our households because our male counterparts were frequently torn away from their families by violence, imprisonment, or systemic racism. This need to be both nurturer and provider was our only option, and its legacy has followed us into modern times. Black women are still frequently the breadwinners in their households due to structural inequalities that disproportionately affect Black men.

For these reasons, Black women have often had to adopt traits of independence and strength to navigate a society that was not built to support them. However, society has increasingly made a habit of weaponizing these traits, turning them into negative stereotypes such as the “Angry Black Woman” or “The Strong Black Woman,” which, in turn, plays into the false narrative that Black women are incapable of submission. 

This summation is both short sighted and unfair, as strength and submission are not mutually exclusive. Further, the assumption that a strong Black woman cannot submit is both insulting and far too simplistic.

The Gendered Racism Behind Submission

Our critics often completely fail to acknowledge the racial and gendered dimensions of submission when it comes to Black women. The why, if you will, is often buried under dramatic recriminations and finger pointing. 

But when you boil it down, the stereotype that Black women are too strong or unwilling to submit is rooted in racist ideologies that have been passed down for generations and which are still, unfortunately, quite common in today’s cultural zeitgeist. While women of other races are often perceived as soft, delicate, and obedient, Black women are seen as combative, difficult, and unyielding, stubbornly so, I find, since all it takes to be slapped with one of these unfortunate labels is the mildest disagreement or pushback. 

This dichotomy perpetuates the idea that Black women are somehow unfit for traditional gender roles and incapable of nurturing romantic relationships that involve submission. Which feeds into the idea that we should not be cared for, treated softly, or protected. When in reality, these stereotypes are often no more than dated, extremely harmful generalizations. And that’s not even digging into the fact that the idea of submission itself has been perverted.

In podcast-bro-red-pill-land, submission is more or less synonymous with doormat. But real submission in a healthy relationship is more about trust and partnership, not race or perceived temperament. Yet, when Black women assert themselves or advocate for their needs, it is often misconstrued as aggressiveness rather than strength or leadership. 

Sadly, this double standard does not only come from outside the Black community; it is sometimes perpetuated within it. Black men, and even some Black women, influenced by these same racist and sexist stereotypes, may feel threatened by the independence and strength that other Black women have had to embody in order to make it. And so, they turn on us for the very same attributes that enabled us to survive — and which we often must still rely on today.

Why Submission Is Not One-Size-Fits-All

One major issue with the discourse around submission is that it assumes a one-size-fits-all approach, ignoring the individuality and autonomy of women, particularly Black women. It is often framed as a requirement for a successful relationship, particularly by men who expect submission but who are simultaneously unwilling or unable to provide leadership.

Many Black women, like women of any race, are willing to submit in relationships where their partner has proven himself to be a trustworthy leader. Where that masculine energy is doing its thing, and bearing his weight and some of ours too. And we, by association, are free to lean into our femininity and softness, trusting that we will be okay, and that no harm will befall us once we expose our proverbial bellies. 

Submission is not just about obedience or subservience — it’s often about partnership, a serious level of commitment, a belief that women intrinsically have value, and are worth some sacrifice. But this piece of the puzzle often seems lost in the aforementioned discourse. In a relationship where both parties trust each other and bring equal value — and that value is acknowledged on both sides — submission becomes less about control and more about balance, a beautiful dance between masculine and feminine where no one’s toes are stepped on, and everyone has a fabulous time. 

Unfortunately, the expectation that Black women should blindly submit without receiving the same level of trust or support in return is often what’s put forward as the preferred narrative. For obvious reasons this is both misguided and detrimental to building healthy relationships — and especially detrimental to Black women. 

We’re tired. Love should be a place for peace, enjoyment, for pleasure. There will be some work, as relationships have a team and partnership dynamic. But by and large, it is not the place to go and work hard, or to be mistreated, or to be treated unfairly, and that’s what the modern version of submission often suggests. But I posit that love or a relationship is the very last place a Black woman should want to go to and resurrect demeaning, ridiculous tropes of waiting on someone hand and foot — in addition to working full time, going 50/50, and all this other nonsense. 

Submission Is Earned, Not Demanded

Another important distinction that often gets lost in conversations about submission is that it is something that must be earned, not demanded. Even in sexual matters of dominance and submission, the sub, if it’s a healthy relationship, must give herself over to the dom willingly. 

And outside of this sexual positioning, submission is not a masculine right that requires nothing in return. That’s part of why many Black women express frustration with men who expect submission without proving their ability to lead, and by association, to provide and protect. As one male influencer humorously put it, “What the f$#@ am I submitting to, poverty? Ew.” 

It’s not enough for a man to simply demand submission — he must demonstrate leadership, reliability, and a clear sense of direction. This applies to men of all races, but it’s especially relevant in discussions involving Black women because we’ve often had to assume leadership roles in our personal and professional lives due to the aforementioned historical and systemic factors. It’s not that Black women don’t want to submit — I’d wager that we absolutely do, when it’s the right kind of submission. But I fully support any Black woman’s outright refusal to submit to someone who hasn’t earned her trust or respect.

This leads to a broader question: Why is submission viewed as a one-sided act where only women are expected to submit, or to behave in a certain way? In healthy relationships, submission should be reciprocal, where both partners are willing to defer to one another based on mutual trust and respect. In that relationship it can be part of the foundational fabric that helps that pair become a valuable team. 

The idea that submission only flows in one direction — usually from woman to man — on the other hand, reflects outdated patriarchal norms that really have no place in modern relationships, especially when it comes to Black women, who have historically shouldered so much of the burden, financially, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and even physically, in our communities.

The Submissive White Woman Myth: A Faulty Comparison

Another problematic aspect of the submission conversation is the inevitable comparison between Black women and white women’s behavior with men, particularly the idea that white women are just naturally more submissive. This stereotype is not only racist, it’s based on faulty assumptions. It implies that white women are inherently more cooperative or agreeable, while Black women are naturally more defiant and combative. In reality, these are sweeping generalizations that ignore the individuality and agency of all women. 

The myth that white women are more submissive also plays into a larger societal issue — the fetishization of white femininity and frailty — something automatically worthy of protection — and the persistent devaluation of Black womanhood — something barely acknowledged unless it is to hypersexualize. 

When Black men cite submission as their primary reason for choosing white women over Black women, it not only reinforces harmful stereotypes, it also perpetuates a damaging narrative that Black women are inherently less desirable or unworthy of love and respect. 

What makes this citation worse is the fervor with which it’s often delivered, and the vitriol these men feel free to frequently dump directly onto Black female heads in turn. It’s like, just say she’s who you want, and leave us out of it. Love who you want to love, and stand on that. Feel confident in that. There’s no shame in being attracted to someone outside your race. 

Why do you have to unilaterally denigrate Black women as the excuse for your preference? When Black men do this it can feel like the worst kind of betrayal. Not because of their choice, but because of the blanket disloyalty. Because whatever bad feelings or bad experiences might be at the root of that negative energy, they can be laid at the feet of a few of us, not laid over the hearts and minds of us all.

This white women are more submissive narrative is also dangerous because it plays into the false belief that Black women need to change who they are in order to be seen as worthy of love and respect. Like who we are as we are is not — and seemingly never could be — enough. Instead of embracing the strength, resilience, and independence that Black women have developed over centuries of oppression, society asks us to tone it down in order to fit into a submissive mold that was never designed for us in the first place. A mold that may actually be dangerous to us given the complexity of our intersectional lives in modern society. 

The Real Issue: Fragile Ego and Insecurity

The obsession with submission, particularly in the Black community, often speaks more to fragile egos and insecurity than it does to genuine relationship dynamics. Men who feel threatened by strong, independent Black women may use submission as a way to regain control or assert their dominance. But as many Black women will happily tell you, we are more than willing — even eager — to submit to a man who has proven himself to be a true leader. The problem arises when men expect submission without offering anything in return.

To me, submission is easy when a woman can trust her man to lead. He’s proven that he can and is happy to consistently do so. This makes it safe and a pleasure for her to follow his lead, advice, or guidance. But men don’t always have that proven track record of being emotionally, mentally, or financially solid. And if that’s the case, what exactly is a woman supposed to submit to? Nonsense? Instability? Confusion? 

I feel pretty comfortable stating that this sentiment is echoed by many Black women who are tired of being asked to submit to men who have not earned their trust or demonstrated their ability to lead.

Let’s Move Beyond the Static and Noise

It bears repeating that the endless criticism Black women face for being “too strong” or “not submissive enough” is rooted in harmful stereotypes that fail to consider the historical, cultural, and social context and complexity in which Black women exist today and have existed in the past. Submission, in its healthiest form, is about trust, partnership, and mutual respect. It is not about control, obedience, or race.

But the submission we hear about these days is decidedly unhealthy. It’s giving beleaguered, worn down, struggle love, honestly. The very necessary part of equation where the man creates an environment where a woman is safe, protected and able to lean completely into her femininity and softness seems to have gone missing somewhere. 

We are, as Mina Irfan said in her book “Lady Balls,” “living in a world that values masculine energy over feminine energy, our desires are often made wrong. We judge them as too much, too greedy, or too whatever.” So, logically, why would Black women have any interest in that? 

Black women understand the struggle part of life. We’ve got that down pat. There’s no need to invite more of the same. And for us, submission has often been a subject of contention because it’s been framed in a way that ignores our unique experiences and struggles. However, we are more than capable of submitting to a partner who has proven himself to be a worthy leader. The real issue isn’t even about whether Black women can submit — it’s about whether the men asking for submission have earned the right to lead.

Ultimately, Black women should not be placed in some paint-by-number box filled to the brim with stereotypes and simplistic, albeit romantic, slightly warped, ideals. Nor should we be forced to conform to outdated gender roles that don’t serve us. Therefore, if there is to be any resolution, the discussion around relational submission needs to move beyond stereotypes and focus on what really matters in a relationship: trust, respect, and mutual support. Closely and intimately followed by care, stability, and a genuine liking for women.