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3 Dynamic Resistance “I’m a Strong Black Woman!”

Beginning in her formative years, Billie was faced with a multitude of circumstances that she had to regularly resist. These battles not only included the intimate partner abuse she endured during adulthood but involved events during childhood that included combating child abuse by her mother, sexual molestation by her brother, and teasing by other school children because of her low-income class status. As she aged, Billie had to deal with recurrent financial stress, the authority of the criminal justice system, employment discrimination because of her arrest record, her alcohol and cocaine abuse, and physical health problems. She summed up her life by stating, “I’ve had a rough life. Now I go to church. I’m trying to get it together.” During our time together, Billie regularly spoke in a manner that encompassed her entire life, her entire life struggles, and the strength that she and other Black women must possess in order to contend with these difficulties. The general consensus among the women in the study was demonstrated by Billie’s declaration: “Black women are strong. They go through everything. From the time I could remember, Black women have been going through hell. White women have been pampered.… I think White women, they’ve got it so easy and Black women don’t.”

The women I interviewed undoubtedly understood the gender disparities within society, in which all women are in a devalued position compared to that of men.¹ They also overwhelmingly believed that they were at an even greater disadvantage than White women because of their race. Further, although understanding the place in which they, as Black women, are situated in the general social order and in relation to men in their immediate communities, the women consistently conveyed that they had a stronger conviction than White women in resisting the patriarchal hierarchy. The women’s observations of their life experiences typically intertwined their gender, race, and class locations. This supports the reality of Black women as individuals with intersecting identities. The women were asked to articulate how they believed they were different from other women and their circumstances different from the circumstances other women face. They compared themselves to battered and nonbattered women, typically using White women as their comparison base. Their self-depictions and descriptions of other Black women overwhelmingly included the use of the term “Strong Black Woman,” while White women and battered White women were often described as “weak.” In most cases, “Black woman” was synonymous with “strong woman.” The women were also acutely aware that in the view of other people one element of their identity might supersede another. For example, in their experiences, race often trumped gender in the views of non-Blacks.² Employing a Black feminist criminology and interpretive approach to my study enabled me to genuinely listen to what the women were telling me and to develop a way of knowing how their lives as Black women affected the way they experienced all that comes with intimate partner abuse. Using these methods of Black feminist criminology and story telling led to the conceptual model of dynamic resistance. Dynamic resistance is the concept that links the varied and similar experiences and identities of battered Black women to provide improved understanding of their encounters with and reactions to the violent events in their lives and the existing support networks. Dynamic resistance will become even more evident as the reader progresses through the remainder of this book, where the model is clearly linked to the evaluations of the women’s formative life experiences (Chapter 4), encounters with battering and perceptions of the batterers (Chapter 5), rejection of victimization and physical efforts at resistance (Chapter 6), and resources used for departure from the abusive relationships (Chapter 7).

Perceptions of Other Battered Women

The women’s perspectives on other women and the ways some of them handled intimate partner abuse were based on several sources. First, general interaction with other women of color and White women served as a partial foundation for their opinions. This interaction was with women they encountered in daily associations within their communities. The extent of interaction with White individuals varied greatly among the women. They were raised in and lived in many types of communities across the United States and internationally, ranging from rural, mostly White towns to highly populated metropolitan neighborhoods that were predominantly Black and Latina/o. Yet none of the women were completely isolated from daily interactions with Whites. Another source for scrutinizing differences and similarities between Black women and White women was the media. Celebrated women in the news media and dramatic television shows were the typical sources. However, the women were aware that White women, as well as Black women, are often presented by the media in a stereotypical manner. Last, several of the women had extensive interaction with battered White women through their experiences with the criminal justice system and with social services agencies, including stays in battered women’s shelters, and from employment or voluntary work experiences in which they interacted directly with battered women. The women with these direct encounters provided more extensive statements than the other study participants about battered White women’s experiences with and responses to intimate partner abuse.

The comments presented throughout this chapter were provided by a diverse selection of the women. That is, regardless of education level, socioeconomic status, and age or generation, the women tended to see their status as that of Black women in U.S. society, which they contrasted with White women’s status. But some of the women, when initially asked about differences between women based on ethnicity or race, denied any differences. Interestingly, though, as they progressed through their answers and thought process, they all identified distinctions.

Paula, a 41-year-old who was raised middle-class and who began attending college a few years prior to my interview with her, demonstrated the greater attempts that Black women must make because of their lack of resources. If strength was attributed to White women, it was in the context of their established position in the social structure:

I think more so, not all, but some White families as being more intact than a lot of Hispanic and Black families.… A lot of times [the White families’] moms and dads are working individuals, are teachers, lawyers, doctors; their grandparents probably are, too. The things they are coming from is a stronger base. Having someone to talk to them about, “What’s your plan?” Maybe they never get off course and stumble and go into these little diversions and never have to jump some of these hurdles that Hispanic families and some Black people start out with. One mother, a couple aunts over here, maybe a grandmother still alive, and it’s a weaker base from the get-go. It’s more stressful. So when I’m down at campus, I think of the women in the classes as the majority of them probably coming from a stronger base from the get-go.… A lot of the White kids are coming from high schools that are preparing them earlier than a lot of these schools in the public school system.… I look at a lot of the [White] women, especially the younger ones, and they’re coming in already prepared. They’re coming in from a different place from the get-go.

With regard to differences between battered Black and White women, I identified several themes in the women’s perceptions. The consensus among the women in my study was that White women stayed in the relationships longer.³ Angie, a 39-year-old who was in a low-income socioeconomic status from childhood through to the time of our conversation, did not utilize battered women’s shelter care or any other service programs for battered women. Angie’s deduction on the differences between battered women by race was based on her general knowledge about White women and the representations of these women in television programs: “I think White women just stay there like I did. It depends on the person. It’s hard to say, Black or White. ’Cause I stayed, and I didn’t think I would. But I think White women stay more and I think they get messed up more, but that’s just maybe ’cause I watch too much TV.” Angie’s account provided an insightful perspective into the often stereotypical images presented in television programming on the portrayal of Black and White women. Billie’s perception was also based on media representations. She stated that White women will “put up with a little bit more. They’ll go with an abusive guy for 17, 18 years. Most Black women won’t put up with it that long, I don’t think.” Other women’s observations were more resolute than Angie’s and Billie’s remarks. Cicely’s opinion was based on her personal commitment to educating herself on the social injustices involving Blacks. The 52-year-old offered the following comparison between battered White women and battered Black women regarding the length of time these women remain in abusive relationships: “A Black woman is more likely to leave. A Black woman will be in a relationship five years. She’s more likely to get out of that one way or another. Where the White woman, she’ll stay in there 20 and 30 years before she either kill him or she get killed.”

Medea’s employment in a position involving work in intimate partner abuse afforded her regular contact with battered women. Accordingly, she offered several professional, educated, and personal interpretations. Although she had interactions with battered women in a professional capacity, it is notable that her comments resemble those furnished earlier. Like the others, Medea relayed that White women are trapped in abusive relationships longer than Black women and provided her reasoning for this outlook:

I find White victims are far more passive. They are far more likely to take it for a longer period of time, and they don’t identify, they don’t internalize that strength that is needed to break away. Of course, that’s a generalization. That’s not every White victim. But the White women that I encounter just in daily life just incorporate [abuse] into their world and go on, and that amazes me.

Medea’s comment that battered White women do not internalize the strength to allow them to free themselves from the relationships as battered Black women do was echoed by Jade, who is a social worker. Because her position involved working with families in need, the 35-year-old Jade had numerous interactions with battered women. She identified an additional, as well as harrowing, aspect of battered Black women that puts them at risk of further intimate partner abuse even if they do not stay in the relationships as long as White women:

I must say the White women stayed in it. I remember that right away. They stayed with their husbands. They somehow claimed that they worked it out and worked through it. The Black women, no, they think they’re handling it.… They continue getting into unhealthy relationships.… Most of them don’t stay. But they do keep hopping into other unhealthy relationships.

Jade’s perception is supported by the women’s experiences as a whole; three-quarters of the women were in two or more abusive relationships. Perhaps Billie’s assessment can begin to aid us in understanding this phenomenon. Billie offered her observation about White women in the context of interracial relationships. She discussed how White women in relationships with Black men will tolerate more than Black women with Black men would: “Things that Black women wouldn’t put up with, [White women] will.” Also, the description of the women’s reasoning for their batterers’ abusive behaviors (outlined in Chapter 5) can assist in explaining the women’s encounters with multiple abusive relationships. Further, it can be speculated that Black women find their way out of these relationships quicker but that they are not closely evaluating their situations once they leave an abuser and thus find themselves in similar relationships.

On the basis of their interactions and familiarity with battered White women, the women perceived that the White women were more reliant on batterers than battered Black women. During her group counseling experience targeted specifically at victims of intimate partner abuse, 48-year-old Olivia, who was raised middle-class, said of the White women in the group: “They became dependent on [the batterers]. They felt women couldn’t survive without a man. I could never figure it out.” Forty-seven-year-old Harriet’s observations derived from her experiences volunteering in a battered women’s shelter after getting out of her abusive relationship. Harriet found in her work with White and Black women in the shelter that the women would say, “Nobody would want me, I don’t know how to take care of myself.” She concluded, “It’s called brainwashing, propaganda, whatever you want to call it. I’d think, ‘Don’t believe it. Get out of there, get out on your own.’ … Some of [the Black women] were like that, too, but not as much.”

Fifty-one-year-old Wendy was raised middle-class and was working-class during her abusive relationship (her husband was in the military) and at the time of her interview. She formed her opinion about the differences between battered White women and battered Black women during her stay in a battered women’s shelter:

[The White women] were scared to go out and venture out on their own: “I can’t do it. I have to go back to him.” They were used to being pampered. Living the good life, but taking the abuse behind closed doors. They were scared to step out and do for themselves [and] give up what they would call the good life, as far as material things. I didn’t care about the material things. If I had it, I had it. If I didn’t, I’ll get it. That’s what I was focused on. Me being different from them was they had it all. They didn’t want to give up that nice livin’ to live in a shelter like this. To live in a one-bedroom apartment, not have nice furniture, have to have used furniture. They wasn’t used to that. So they’d rather go back and take the abuse and send their kids through hell than to go out and stand up on their own two feet. When we had group meetings and we’d talk about things like this, that’s all I heard from all of them. I was like, “Oh no, honey, you need to get over yourself. You ran away because you didn’t like it. You need to stand up on your own two feet. I’m gonna stand up on my own two feet. I’m gonna succeed anyway that I can. I’m gonna succeed. And I’m gonna show my girls that there’s a better life out there than to have to hang on to some man to beat you just so you can have material things. Get over it.” That’s the way I look at it. That’s why [the counselor] took me to the side and said, “You’re gonna be a strong woman.”

Clearly, the belief that battered White women are more reliant on their batterers than battered Black women is peculiar since all of the women remained in the relationships for a certain time. But this must be considered in the context of how Black women experience intimate partner abuse and their activities during the relationships. Many of the women’s discernments are rooted in the configuration of Black families that are frequently female-headed households with nonresident male intimate partners, where Black mothers often also serve the role of “father.”⁴ Even if the women were raised in two-parent households, they were personally cognizant of the prevalence of this pattern in many Black families through their personal experiences with extended family members and basic knowledge of this occurrence. Overall, the women reasoned that Black women, married or not, could effectively and successfully handle life on their own without the assistance of a male partner.

Akin to the appraisal that battered White women are more dependent on men than battered Black women is the women’s perception that Black women make greater attempts at being equal with men than other women do. Regarding the Latina/o community, Olivia talked about her Latina friend and Latina/o culture regarding the roles of women and men:

I found out in their culture, and I never knew this until I hung out with them, that women are upstairs and the men are downstairs. You’re not allowed to interact when you’re at parties. I been there, I seen it.… We always got to be separated. We can’t be their equal. If we want to be their equal, there’s something wrong with us. Then they want to get violent.

The women in this study clearly recognized that sexism by Black men toward Black women exists, but they often considered themselves to be on equal footing with men. And, in some instances, as demonstrated in Chapter 5, when they felt pity for their Black male mates, the women considered themselves stronger than their batterers because of the women’s endurance of the abuse and their daily struggles as Black women in the United States. Accordingly, they believed they, unlike women of other ethnicities and races, were able to at least attempt to be equal with men.

In Chapter 6, I assess the women’s overwhelming response to abuse from batterers by employing the resistance endeavors of talking back and fighting back. The women expounded on the level at which White and Latina women, in comparison to Black women, verbally and physically challenge their batterers. As rooted in their dealings with and exposure to battered women of other races and ethnicities, the women in this study believed these other women to not be as vocal as Black women in abusive relationships. Harriet’s volunteer experience at the shelter led her to the view that “White women were more submissive than the Black women during the times that they were in the abusive relationship. Passive. They were more passive. They won’t say nothin’, where a Black woman would speak anyway, a White woman wouldn’t.” Similarly, Olivia stated that “a lot of White women, they don’t stand up to their husbands.” And she spoke again about the relationship her Latina friends have with their Latino partners: “I’ve seen [the men] tell [the women] to go to their room. I said, ‘Go to your room? You’re a grown woman! Why do you have to go to your room? Talk back to your husband!’ She says, ‘If I don’t [do what he says], he’ll try and fight me after everybody goes.’”

The women’s opinions about battered White women’s propensity to retaliate physically against their batterers were similar to their opinions of the tendency to talk back. Forty-three-year-old Jacqueline formed her opinion about the differences between battered White women and battered Black women during her stay in a battered women’s shelter. Her main conclusion was simply but keenly stated: “The Black women fight back. The White women don’t fight back” Cicely’s experience with battered women of different races elicited her prediction that “Black women are more likely to fight back a lot quicker than the White women. A White woman will get beat to the pulp, whereas a Black woman, she might get beat to the pulp, but the man is goin’ be beat halfway down, too.” This statement is evident in the assessment, presented in Chapter 6, that most of the women made valiant efforts to fight off their batterers. As with talking back, they viewed their efforts to be more active than those of battered White women, supporting battered Black women’s reluctance to view themselves as “victims.”⁵ In opposition to this, the recollections about battered White women were told in the context of viewing the White women as “victims” because of the belief that White women do not make major efforts to defend themselves against the abuse.

In sum, in answering what they think the differences are between White and Black women, the women notably framed their answers from an emotional strength perspective, which was partly demonstrated in the aforementioned accounts. Throughout the following chapters, the subject of strength of battered Black women is prevalent in the women’s life stories and as they describe their association with intimate partner abuse. Hence, when recounting what they knew or thought they knew about the lives of White women, they made many comparisons based on the adapted strength of Black women and the force exuded by Black women who are battered. This is evident in the comments regarding the length of time the women remain in abusive relationships, White women’s reliance on their batterers, and Black women’s belief in women’s parity with men and their personal strategies to combat the abuse. Excerpts from interviews with three women from various upbringings and socioeconomic statuses offer just a sampling of the women’s perceptions of White women’s general strength as distinguished from that of Black women:

I know that Black women in general have to fight harder.

I think Black women just have to put up with a lot more shit [than White women].

I think Black women are stronger. White women get more support, so they just look stronger. Their package looks better.

The women’s perceptions of White women’s personal power are what led to their conclusions presented in the preceding accounts of the reasons White women respond to intimate partner abuse the way they do. Medea’s extended experience with intimate partner abuse victims allowed her to establish conclusions about battered White women’s level of strength, taking into consideration White women’s location in the U.S. societal hierarchy:

The differences that I’ve noticed, that are apparent to me, are the White women are really weak. They don’t see, they who are the second most privileged class in the world, do not see that they have options. They’re like, “Oh, but I can’t do that. How can you stand up?” They are also more attached to the material aspects of the situation, because he is a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief, because of the position, because of the money. It seems to me that they take more shit [from batterers] than women of color, or at least than I would.… They seem to be more passive somehow. It’s odd that you ask that question, ’cause this is something I’ve thought of a lot. I can’t figure it out. I mean, they can take some abuse. I said to one one day, I said, “Your ass has been kicked from here around the block. How can you tell me you’re not strong? If you can take the amount of abuse and be battered to the extent that you have, you’ve got to be strong. A lesser person would be dead. So how can you then say, “Oh, I’m so weak?” It just doesn’t make sense to me. (This was a personal conversation. I’d never say that to a victim at work in a professional setting.) She said, “You know, I never thought of it that way.” The White women I’ve dealt with have a perception that they are weak. It may be because you have a whole civilization catering to you. That may be a part of it.… But their perception is that they are weak and powerless. And that’s amazing to me.… There’s a whole world out there doing your bidding and you don’t have to identify that strength and use it.

Medea’s narrative emphasizes that Black women are forced to summon their inner strength in order to resist various sources and methods of abuse and domination on a regular basis. Many of the women believed, as is obvious in Medea’s explanation, that White women do not have to call up their strength to the extent that Black women do because White women are pampered and socialized as such, and because, though they face sexism, they are not confronted by the range of discriminatory and dominating acts that is imposed on Black women.

Further, Medea’s comments offered insight into how many of the other women viewed strength in their experiences with intimate partner abuse. The women equated strength with the ability to endure and survive an abusive relationship. In part, this resiliency aided in raising the women’s ability to empower themselves to be active in contending with the violence. Nevertheless, viewing the endurance of and retaliation against abuse as only a positive attribute may cause the women to ignore the emotional damage the abuse produced. In all of the life situations where strength is expected to be and often is actually used by Black women, we must take into account the intricacies associated with the concept of the Strong Black Woman and its connection to Black women who have been in abusive relationships.

Complexities of the “Strong Black Woman” Maxim

References to the Strong Black Woman can be found in academic or intellectual reports, fiction writings, poetry, self-help resources, the popular print media, and the entertainment domain, such as television programs.⁶ In particular, there are references to the Strong Black Woman phenomenon in research on intimate partner abuse against Black women.⁷ Commentary on Black women taking on the characteristics of the Strong Black Woman is presented from both positive and negative viewpoints. That is, scholars consider how appropriating this image can both help and harm the individual Black woman. Angie identified some of the positive and negative characteristics of the Strong Black Woman. She recognized that many Black women are able to singlehandedly manage a multitude of duties in their lives (the positive aspect) but that taking on these countless responsibilities leads the women to ignore or undervalue their need for emotional, financial, and other forms of assistance (the negative aspect):

I think that Black women are strong women and they take a lot. I’m including myself.… I think they’re most likely to be head of the households and they have to run the family, keep things together, hold things together. Sometimes they gotta put theirselves on the back burner and take care of what needs to be taken care of and put theirselves second.

The Black woman as the Strong Black Woman is simultaneously a stereotype and a reality. Although Black women may possess strength, they are at the same time “devoid of power.”⁸ Black women’s tendency to focus on being strong, which includes taking care of others by providing mothering and financial security, does not allow them to be seen or to see themselves as being in need of emotional support or as “victims” of others’ misdeeds.⁹ In Michele Wallace’s controversial 1979 book, Black Macho and the Myth of the Superwoman, she provides a detailed and conflicting description of the image of the Strong Black Woman, based on both an historical and a contemporary analysis. Although parts of the description are not supported by present-day research, such as her comparison of Black women’s level of wealth and professional employment to those of Black men,¹⁰ the characterization is still useful. The description is extensive but provides a portrayal of the Strong Black Woman for my analysis:

Sapphire. Mammy. Tragic mulatto wench. Workhorse, can swing an ax, lift a load, pick cotton with any man. A wonderful housekeeper. Excellent with children. Very clean. Very religious. A terrific mother. A great little singer and dancer and a devoted teacher and social worker. She’s always had more opportunities than the Black man because she was no threat to the White man so he made it easy for her. But curiously enough, she frequently ends up on welfare. Nevertheless, she is more educated and makes more money than the Black man. She is more likely to be employed and more likely to be a professional than the Black man. And subsequently she provides the main support for the family. Not beautiful, rather hard looking unless she has White blood, but then very beautiful. The Black ones are exotic though, great in bed, tigers. And very fertile. If she is middle class she tends to be uptight about sex, prudish. She is hard on and unsupportive of Black men, domineering, castrating. She tends to wear the pants around her house. Very strong. Sorrow rolls right off her brow like so much rain. Tough, un-feminine. Opposed to women’s rights movements, considers herself already liberated. Nevertheless, unworldly. Definitely not a dreamer, rigid, inflexible, uncompassionate, lacking in goals any more imaginative than a basket of fried chicken and a good fuck.¹¹

When the women in my study spoke of the Strong Black Woman, they used this term or similar descriptions of Black women without leading questions posed by me. Sometimes they spoke on this issue while answering other indirectly related questions, and other times it was in response to the question “What do you think are the differences between Black women and White women?” While some of the women did not specifically describe themselves or certain other Black women as strong, they still viewed their actions in the context of strength. Such women were seen by those who spoke in this manner as failed Black women because they did not exhibit the Black woman’s assumed characteristic of strength. Although other researchers had mentioned the connection between the internalization of the Strong Black Woman character and intimate partner abuse, in the spirit of the ethnographic approach of research, where propositions are developed as the researcher is immersed in data collection and analysis,¹² this was an area where I did not expect to make any significant discoveries. But, as the interviews progressed (beginning with the first interview with Paula), I became aware of the overpowering importance of the image of the Strong Black Woman and its association with managing intimate partner abuse through the women’s numerous references to the attribute.

Most of the women’s initiation into the idea of the Strong Black Woman undeniably began with their observing their mothers and othermothers as they were growing up.¹³ The Black criminologist Laura Fishman has described the lessons she learned from her “female black elders” about being a Black woman, rooted in her elders’ personal experiences and the messages they received from misreported media images and folktales about the Black experience, crime, and violence:

The implications of these messages were clear. We young black girls had to learn to protect ourselves against physical hurt, to figure things out in order to maximize our safety within both private and public space. To cushion ourselves against physical mistreatment meant learning to fight to defend ourselves and to win. To cushion ourselves therefore meant that we could not expect any protection from black men or, especially, from the police. I was able to be on my own as a strong, independent black woman who could handle anything life threw at me.¹⁴

In my study, the observation of their mothers as Strong Black Women was particularly important for most of the women who witnessed their mothers being abused by male mates. The women who witnessed their mothers’ victimization and whose mothers fit the Strong Black Woman characterization formed the idea that Strong Black Women are confronted not only with racism, sexism, classism, and the responsibility of running a household and raising children but also with abuse. Violence inflicted on their mothers became yet another form of strain in the Strong Black Woman’s life.

The majority of the women provided descriptions of their mothers and othermothers that fit within the qualities of the Strong Black Woman. Even women who did not have healthy relationships with their mothers described their mothers as strong because of their lifelong and recurring struggles to maintain the family emotionally and economically, while coping with sociostructural stressors. Angie addressed this when she spoke of her grandmother’s life as a basis for observing the Strong Black Woman: “Looking at my grandmother being the single parent of nine kids and doing what you can to keep food and roof over your family’s head. Just strong to me.” Fifty-one-year-old Shahida, who was raised in the lower class but became a college-educated professional of middle-class status in adulthood, described her mother as “an Angela Davis-type radical.” Wendy also spoke of her reverence for her mother’s strength:

She was wonderful. Sweetest little lady you ever want to meet. Very sweet, very gentle. She talked to you, she was very forward. She never beat around the bush about anything; she’d just come out let you know how she felt, what was going on. She taught you how to take care of business. You always want to know how to take care of business, you never leave anything undone. She was like that. Very stern. Very strong Black woman. Very strong. I’ve seen her go through a lot. I’ve seen her work to the point where she would just crawl through the front door. You know, ’cause she would be so tired, she worked a lot. We had a beautiful home. She always kept her house immaculate.

As indicated, strength to the the women also attributed their mothers’ strength to the mothers’ endurance in abusive relationships. In Chapter 4, I describe how many of these women witnessed their mothers’ attempts at verbally and physically repelling the abusive acts perpetuated by their husbands and boyfriends and note that this aided in the women’s decisions to fight off their own batterers. Still, as 18-year-old Keisha said about her 38-year-old mother, Leah, with whom I also spoke, the women were often at a loss to explain why their strong mothers would endure the abuse at all. Keisha acknowledged, “I think with her relationship with my dad and Vic, the stalker, I seen this strong woman. This strong woman, she’s my mother, and she’s just going through ridiculous trials and tribulations over guys.”

The strong mothers often helped the women to resist further intimate partner abuse. As I describe in Chapter 7, the women’s mothers were a substantial resource for leaving abusive relationships. Thirty-nine-year-old Rebecca elaborated on how her mother and othermothers were a source of strength while she dealt with abuse: “There were a very, very large amount of strong women in my family who helped me get through a lot of what I’ve been through.”

I will expand on the relevance of some of the women receiving special treatment in their families of origin in the following chapter, but there are connections between this status in their families and issues of Strong Black Women that should be introduced here. The women who did not describe their mothers or main mother-figures as Strong Black Women included six of the seven women who received special treatment in their families of origin (four of the seven were not exposed to any major forms of violence in childhood). Harriet’s mother died when Harriet was young, leaving her father as her main parent and role model, and the mothers of the other six women would not have been considered to fit the definition of the Strong Black Woman during the women’s childhoods. An additional three women who did not describe their mothers as Strong Black Women (a) did not fit within the special-treatment category; (b) were exposed to at least one form of violence during their upbringing; and (c) were raised by both biological parents. One woman’s parents were regularly under the influence of drugs and were virtually absent as parents. Within the other two sets of parents, the mothers were particularly docile and modeled the more “traditional” role of mother and wife by being fairly reserved and not major decision makers in the homes of origin. However, even most of the women who did not have Strong Black Mother role models began to describe themselves as Strong Black Women toward the end or after the conclusion of their abusive relationships. These self-perceptions were created because of their personal dealings with the many social structure and cultural struggles faced by most Black women in U.S. society and because of their fortitude during the intimate partner abuse. Their views of themselves as strong were often solidified through interactions with White women, who, as highlighted earlier, were regarded as pampered and weak. Fittingly, even women without Strong Black Mothers as role models came to view themselves as strong for having lived through unfortunate circumstances. For instance, Wendy was a “special-treatment” child and did not have a mother who fit in the Strong Black Woman characterization. However, she described how her mother eventually displayed strength qualities after years of abuse by her husband (Wendy’s father). As evident in her appraisal of herself and her mother a couple of years prior to my conversation with her, Wendy followed her mother’s path to the Strong Black Woman characterization: “By this time, I had became my mother: the Strong Black Woman.”

Starting with the women’s observations of Black mothers’ and other Black women’s maneuvers in the home, the community, and society-at-large, the formation of many of the women viewing themselves as Strong Black Women began at a young age. Forty-five-year-old Helene was one of the women who received special treatment in her home of origin, but she was the only one of the special-treatment girls whose mother fit within the characterization of the Strong Black Woman. Helene discussed her positive view of her own strength when she was a teenager:

Here I am, my senior year in high school. School started in September. I got pregnant in September, my son was born a week to the day I marched and got my diploma. There was no way I was dropping out of school. Back then, you couldn’t even go to school [pregnant]. It didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t dropping out. There was enough I had to drop out of back then: my debut,¹⁵ I had to miss my prom.… That was so embarrassing.… I took my senior pictures anyway, though. I stayed in school every day.

Many times the women received verbal confirmation of their strength. Keisha, who graduated from high school only several weeks prior to my interview with her, described how her mother realized and confirmed Keisha’s strength: “My mom tells me everyday how I’m the strongest person she’s ever seen. She was like, ‘For you to be 18, you’ve been through a lot. With guys, family, and everything, you’re very strong.’ She’s like, ‘You’re a strong woman.’”

As many of their mothers did before them, a number of the women described how they sustained their strength in spite of an abusive mate. Of course, at times, their strength wavered because of the vicious physical attacks, but more so because of the accompanying mental abuse that diminished their self-worth. Yet the women delighted in their ability to conjure up and rebuild the strength that they acknowledged had been gradually weakened by the batterers. They used their anger, and several used their spiritual faith, to summon and restore their strength. In Chapter 7, I will illustrate that even though the women used interpersonal and systemic resources to aid them in discontinuing the abusive relationships, they ultimately used their own resolve to get to the point where they could leave their violent and otherwise abusive companions. I assert that adopting the notion of the Strong Black Woman appreciably aided the women in leaving. Olivia surmised that once she was able to convey to her abuser that she did not need him—emotionally, financially, or otherwise—much of his motivation to exert power through abuse was eliminated:¹⁶

He’d come over, “I’ve come to see my baby.” Or come when it was time to eat, pretend like he really cared. But he was really there to wreak havoc, to see if I was making it without him. I guess I was one of those strong Black women. If I wasn’t making it, I wasn’t going to tell him. The slapping around was to say, “You’re not making it; you have to tell me [that you’re not making it].” But it didn’t work.

Olivia continued her narrative by describing her strength in the context of dealing with future intimate companions:

I am the headstrong female. I’m very independent. I don’t like people sitting at home, I don’t want you cheating. I don’t want you staying out on me, cheating on me.… You know, lay up with me and I’m not supposed to say anything. I’m not that type of female.… So, yes, I’m’a pick a fight with you. And yes, I’m gonna want to know where you been. You got to be accountable.

Similarly, based on her previous experiences with unhealthy intimate relationships, Harriet spoke of how she required even stricter conditions for men’s behavior in relationships. Harriet accepted being an independent, assertive woman and maintained that she was not going to compromise herself for a man’s sake and ego. She discussed how she believed men responded to women like her:

I was never, ever a submissive Black woman at all. Never have and never will be. And a lot of men become intimidated by that, I guess.… I saw where they didn’t think that I was passive enough. I’ve always been taught to speak my mind. Some men like that when they first meet you. They lie and say they like that. But don’t believe it. I’m not goin’ change for nobody.

Concerning talking back, the women in this investigation may have faced corporal repercussions when they responded to their batterers with verbal attacks, but they were pleased that they showed their strength by at least letting their feelings about the unwarranted and harmful treatment be known. Olivia emphasized the strength in battered Black women’s tendency to talk back:¹⁷ “Black women, we’re loud, we’re boisterous, we’re just out of control sometimes, which is a good thing. ’Cause it saves us.” By talking back, the women began to be empowered to terminate or escape the abusive relationships. In a sense, they began to listen to their own rants, which was the foundational stage of providing them agency in taking action against the abuse.

The majority of the women depicted the qualities and consequences of the Strong Black Woman in an optimistic way. However, some women, including some who attributed some positive aspects to the Strong Black Woman classification, identified the negative facets of being a Strong Black Woman. As Harriet’s anecdote illustrates, other women also spoke of viewing the strength of Black women in a negative manner and talked about how it may affect their ability to establish heterosexual relationships with men who believe the women are too strong-willed. In trying to determine why she was abused by her intimate partner, 36-year-old Gloria retrospectively reflected, “Maybe I was too controlling or something.” Some women also contemplated this view during their abusive relationships. Sadly, there are individuals who rationalize that if a woman is outspoken with her male intimate partner, he essentially has a right to aggressively correct her behavior.¹⁸ Some of the women’s comments regarding Black women’s strength appeared to blame the women’s strong qualities for the abuse by men. Jade described how she repressed her self-assured personality in order to attempt to transform her abusive relationship into a nonabusive one, because she thought her strong and independent qualities exacerbated her husband’s behavior: “I was a strong woman.… I wasn’t one to really invest myself into men and feel like men made me complete or anything like that. But it was like, OK, I really want to try this. His parents never got divorced and I came from a divorced situation. He made me feel ashamed of that.”

Thirty-seven-year-old Naomi, whose mother was not identified as a Strong Black Woman, spoke of how certain women (of any race) and a number of Black men perceive Black women and also discussed the effect of embracing this image on speaking publicly about abuse:

The Black men say, “I’m not gonna date a Black woman because they’re mouthy or aggressive.” You’re expected to be a certain way. You’re expected to be strong as a Black woman. Most women expect Black women to be very strong. They wouldn’t think a Black woman would put up with [abuse]. You’re trying to keep that, so people can think I’m strong. I honestly think that. I don’t know any statistics, I haven’t talked to anybody, but that’s what I believe. Because people look at me like, “You put up with it?” I think that’s why a lot of Black women aren’t coming out, except for the extreme stuff.

Naomi’s assertion is supported by Patricia Hill Collins’s argument that the “matriarch or overly strong Black woman has … been used to influence Black men’s understandings of Black masculinity. Many Black men reject Black women as marital partners, claiming that Black women are less desirable than White ones because we are too assertive.”¹⁹

Wanting to be seen as a Strong Black Woman, even by those individuals closest to the women, interfered with their ability to be completely honest about their limitations, thus making them vulnerable.²⁰ Twenty-eight-year-old Isis discussed why she had not disclosed her previous abusive relationships to her current, nonabusive boyfriend:

He knows about them because of the kids, but he doesn’t know about all that stuff. Sometimes I just don’t want to open those flood gates. Like I’m crying now, but I don’t want him to see me that weak. I don’t want him to ever see me being a weak person because of that. And he probably wouldn’t. And maybe if the time is right, maybe one day I will tell him. But I just haven’t found it necessary to even talk about it, because we talk about other stuff. I feel like I’ve built at least a strong exterior where I could deal with these things. I’ve dealt with them OK at this point. I haven’t been on drugs. I’ve never been arrested. All my kids are healthy.

Caretaking is a major characteristic of the Strong Black Woman. Women with children had first of all the responsibility of caring for those children. However, as many women are socially and culturally obligated to do, there were many other duties for which they were also responsible. These duties are multiplied for women who are unpartnered mothers. Bil-lie’s narrative described the caretaking facet of the Strong Black Woman. She realized, with the benefit of hindsight, that because of her custodial obligations at work, to her children, and to her current husband, Odell, she neglected herself:

I think because I got into health care and I was always helping somebody else, I didn’t have to worry about Billie. I was always helping somebody else, you see what I’m saying? As long as I was helping somebody else, helping Odell with his seizures and his [medical condition], then I don’t have to worry about me. Me will be fine. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m the strong one. I’m supposed to take care of this. This is my job.… Babies’ daddies were never there to help me and I never really depended on ’em, either. If I got pregnant, I was like, “Oh, well. I’ll take care of it.” God ain’t going to put no more on you than you can handle. I always felt that way. God don’t make no junk.

Keisha described the self-awareness process that occurred when she joined her mother, Leah, in a battered women’s shelter. Keisha went to the shelter for emotional support from her mother after Keisha was beaten by her boyfriend. Keisha shared the following about loosening the bind of the Strong Black Woman attribute in order to heal:

I’m strong about mine and there was no weakness ever shown in me. I never cried or anything. The time I broke down was when we were at a meeting [in the shelter] and we were all talking about our problems, and that’s when I broke down. I lost it. But it took a while for me to break down because I kept it inside, with a whole bunch of other stuff. I was just angry.

Even at the age of 18, Keisha had already developed the unyielding self-image of the Strong Black Woman, which was difficult to set aside in order to address the sources of her distress. Keisha’s autobiography, as she reported it to me, and the other life stories presented here demonstrate the damage to a battered Black woman who considers herself a Strong Black Woman influenced by the societal and cultural perceptions of Black women and the element of intimate partner abuse in their lives. Labeling one’s self and being labeled by others as a Strong Black Woman hindered the women in detecting the extent of the psychological consequences from the abuse, seeking mental and physical health assistance, leaving the relationship early on, and seeing themselves as “victims” or as a “battered women.” Obviously, many battered Black women are able to see the abuse for the destructive action it is, but they may not view it as a mental abscess that will only further infect the women’s overall well-being if not treated. Conversely, the espousal of the Strong Black Woman maxim did provide many of the women in this study with the strength to eventually leave the relationships and to cope with the lingering wounds of abuse. The characteristics that make up the Strong Black Woman effectively allow for a theoretical explanation—dynamic resistance—of battered Black women’s reactions to their abuse.

Dynamic Resistance

To this point I have regularly used the term “victim” to describe the women as they live through precarious situations in some of their intimate relationships. Yet, in Chapter 6, I expand on the women’s general inability to view themselves as “victims” or even as “battered women.”²¹ A review of the analysis provided at the start of this chapter of the women’s opinions of White women in general, and battered White women specifically, begins to offer an explanation for this pattern. The women viewed battered White women as passive or submissive, while seeing battered Black women as aggressive or assertive. They agreed that Black women can survive without a man better than White women. They asserted that, although heterosexual Black women enjoy and welcome stable heterosexual relationships, the problem—both perceived and real—of absent Black fathers and husbands in the Black community leaves Black women with the mindset that there may be an occasion when they cannot rely on these men for domestic assistance. In relation to this, the women believed that White women remain in abusive relationships—that is, tolerate these relationships—longer than their Black counterparts. The perceived passiveness of White women, according to many of the women, translated into the White women’s incapacity to verbally rebuke the batterers’ wrath. The women reasoned that talking back was much more prevalent among battered Black women, building on the stereotype that Black women are loud-mouthed. It was believed, and rightfully so as demonstrated in existing research, that Black women physically retaliate against their batterers at greater rates than White women.²² Finally, all of these perceptions of White women were grounded in the basic impression that Black women are emotionally stronger than White women. Accordingly, it is difficult for Black women to view themselves as victims of any of life’s problems and to incorporate this idea into their identities, particularly when they compare their and other Black women’s life histories with those of White women.

Increasingly, in the intimate partner abuse literature, the term “survivor” is being co-opted to describe battered women.²³ Jennifer L. Dunn writes that this term is becoming preferred over “victim” because “[f]raming victims as ‘survivors’ constructs a different, less pathetic and more reasonable battered woman embodying the cultural values of strength rather than weakness, and agency instead of passivity.”²⁴ In her study of Black women who were physically and/or sexually abused, Traci C. West chose to use the term “victim-survivors” to describe these women in order to “rhetorically remind us of the dual status of women who have been both victimized by violent assault and have survived it”²⁵ Lee Ann Hoff²⁶ and Edward W. Gondolf and Ellen R. Fisher²⁷ argue that battered women are not simply helpless victims but heroic survivors who are skillful women employing calculated strategies to protect themselves and their children. “Even in the midst of severe psychological impairment, such as depression, many battered women seek help, adapt, and push on.”²⁸ Indeed, the women in my study tended to fall within the description of the survivor, as opposed to that of the victim, when considering the extant research on the increasingly preferred and more appropriate term for battered women. To describe the women in my study as survivors would be more in keeping with their views of themselves than describing them as victims.

I contend, however, that “survivor” suggests that the battered Black women’s struggles have concluded and that these women are no longer in need of assistance. The women I spoke with were indeed still in need of advocacy—or, at least, acknowledgment of their abuse—from family, friends, clergy, the Black community, and activist allies. In addition, the term “survivor” in the context of woman battering refers to women’s identity as one who has been abused by an intimate partner. It does not adequately allow for how a battered woman truly identifies herself and has a strong influence on how she views herself. This is particularly important when considering women of color. As is particular to my investigation, battered Black women are confronted by many other forms of oppression aside from being abused by an intimate partner. These women repeatedly reflected on their devalued position in general society, which often included encounters with sexism, racism, and classism. At the community and familial levels, the women recognized that within this community, although they are viewed as the mainstay of the Black community,²⁹ they face sexism from Black men,³⁰ discrimination based on skin tone,³¹ classism from middle-class and higher classes of Blacks,³² and intellectual bias from Blacks who have achieved advanced educational statuses.³³ Hence, the pressures from the outside, White-dominated society are not always relieved by interfacing with the Black community and Black family because of the prospect of internal strife within these in-groups. In the face of these countless pressures and stressors, the women in my study showed great fortitude and resistance. From their standpoint, battered Black women are resisters.

In part, I compare the use of the term “resister” to Gary Kleck and Marc Gertz’s definition, in their work on gun use as a form of “armed resistance,” of the use of force by victims of crime as acts of self-defense. Regardless of the outcomes of their research on the use of guns and their lack of support for organized gun-control, their work provided a seemingly peculiar fit to explain battered Black women’s response to their batterers. Battered Black women have often not been recognized as “true victims,” and they use terms reminiscent of street or stranger violence to describe their acts of resistance. The responses from the women in my study are different from the descriptions of many White women who experience intimate partner abuse. Taking these factors into consideration, it is not problematic to reach beyond intimate partner violence research into street or stranger violence research to draw on such findings and to develop a more suitable model. Kleck and Gertz contend that:

The traditional conceptualization of victims as either passive targets or active collaborators overlooks another possible victim role, that of the active resister who does not initiate or accelerate any illegitimate activity, but uses various means of resistance for legitimate purposes, such as avoiding injury or property loss. Victim resistance can be passive or verbal, but much of it is active and forceful.³⁴

Another source for building my theoretical model on battered Black women’s responses to abuse and domination in their lives is West’s research detailed in her book, Wounds of the Spirit: Black Women, Violence, and Resistance Ethics. West interviewed women “victim-survivors” of male “intimate violence,” which includes not only intimate partner abuse but sexual abuse (rape) during either childhood or adulthood and perpetrated by acquaintances and strangers. She also analyzed written narratives depicting violence against Black women slaves. Although West’s emphasis is on a “theo-ethical assumption of the presence of powerful divine resources available to us for resisting the forms of dehumanization leveled at black women,” she provides a secular, sociostructural view of violence and domination against Black women and their resistance efforts.³⁵ West’s main contention is that even when confronted with severe “intimate and social violence,” women undeniably engage in endeavors of resistance. She argues that even though resistance does not guarantee healing, it does provide a space where healing can take place. As depicted in her choice to use the term “victim-survivor” in describing Black women who have suffered intimate violence, West suggests an integrated approach to understanding these women’s resistance. She concludes that “a resistance paradigm for African-American victim-survivors must include the roles of both victim and agent. These roles should be configured in a resistance framework that allows them to exist as alternating and overlapping dynamics.”³⁶

Starting from the standpoint of Black feminist criminology and building on Kleck and Gertz’s conceptualization of victims of (typically stranger) violence and West’s focus on resistance efforts by Black women who have been abused, my evaluation presented throughout this book has led to the theoretical model of dynamic resistance to describe the challenging situations confronting Black women who have been battered and their resulting responses. The multiple meanings of the term “dynamic” are equally applied to the women’s resistance efforts. Being dynamic can mean that something is ever changing and can have the ability to change or adapt, as opposed to being static (fluidity). Being dynamic can involve taking an active stance, as opposed to a passive one (vitality). Being dynamic is an indication of passion and strength, as opposed to disinterest and powerlessness (intensity). A dynamic (used not as an adjective, but as a noun) can also entail interaction with other things or other persons, such as the dynamics between the parties in an intimate couple or the dynamics between Black women and the criminal justice system. These elements of fluidity, vitality, and intensity and the interactional aspect of social and political organisms that explain the term “dynamic” are all functioning within the model of dynamic resistance.

Although a battered Black woman can encompass a multifaceted self, five major aspects of such women include (1) race (Black or African American); (2) gender (woman); (3) sexuality; (4) socioeconomic status (often low-income and undereducated, although there is increasing representation in the higher classes); and (5) experiences with intimate partner abuse. The first three characteristics are considered part of the women’s identity, while the fourth characteristic, socioeconomic status and education, may or may not be endemic to battered Black women’s identity dependent on the extent to which they consider these factors to be part of their identity. However, the fifth item, experiences with abuse, is framed as a “descriptive” characteristic following bell hooks’s argument that the “battered woman” term

is used as though it constitutes a separate and unique category of womanness, as though it is an identity, a mark that sets one apart rather than being simply a descriptive term. It is as though the experience of being repeatedly violently hit is the sole defining characteristic of a woman’s identity and all other aspects of who she is and what her experience has been are submerged.³⁷

While Black feminism, critical race feminism, and Black feminist criminology proclaim that women have multiple intersecting identities that are all parts of their identity at one time, many other concepts and individuals do not distinguish Black women in this way. Persons who rely on stereotypes to guide their judgment may view battered Black women in a linear and hierarchical fashion. In this hierarchical categorization, race is at the forefront or pinnacle, and it eclipses gender, while both race and gender overshadow the women as “victims” because of the tendency not to consider Black women as victims of violent acts.³⁸ Sexuality as part of one’s identity is often overlooked, even though hetero sexuality is viewed by general society as the default sexual classification for all individuals. However, because of the persistent typecast views of Black women (and men) as hypersexual, the sexuality identity may be part and parcel of the prevailing race identity of Black women by non-Blacks. Regarding socioeconomic status, a low-income class status with an inadequate education (or the inability to succeed in educational pursuits) is assumed when one is considering the average Black American, despite the few affluent Blacks who receive significant attention from the media.³⁹ Explicitly, it is regularly suggested that the bulk of Black Americans, by their nature, are poor, government-dependent individuals who are not especially intelligent.

Although many White feminists rally against a number of oppressive behaviors and issues, the gender identity is the prominent focus of women’s identity. Because of the criticism of mainstream White feminists by many Black feminists, White feminists may view gender as the main characteristic of battered Black women, with race being regarded as a secondary concern.⁴⁰ From the mainstream feminist viewpoint, the “survivor” label may be considered alongside the identity of womanhood because of the considerable focus by mainstream feminism on issues surrounding women’s victimization by men and the patriarchal social order. More recent notions of mainstream feminist thought,⁴¹ however, may provide an outlook in which race, gender, sexuality, class, and violence against women are seen as overlapping or interlinking.

Returning to the concept of utilizing Black feminist criminology to understand battered Black women’s experiences with abusive relationships, that Black women have multiple identities that are intricately interwoven was not lost on the women in my study, whose view of their identities in the context of the four basic levels of identity (race, gender, sexuality, and class) encompassed all these areas; the fifth characteristic (experience with intimate abuse) was tangential to this multiplicative identity.

In determining the extent to which battered Black women adopt the three different labels describing the violence in their lives—victim, survivor, or resister—I assert three propositions to support the adoption of only the resister label. First, the idea is not that of a sequential relationship where the battered Black woman starts as victim, moves to survivor, then ends as a resister. Second, the idea is not that a battered Black woman at once considers herself all three classifications. Third, a battered Black woman is not each of these at different times, continually moving between the categorizations in a cyclical manner. (The dynamic concept referring to fluidity does not apply here.) It is because of the factors discussed previously that I consider battered Black women’s view of themselves not as victims and not as survivors but as resisters. Describing battered Black women as resisters better captures their self-identity because of the women’s in ability to take on the other descriptive characteristics of victim or survivor as central to their Self. In essence, their dynamic lives aided in this rebuff of victimhood. Although they rejected labeling themselves as victims or survivors, most of the women were aware of the negative effects of the abuse on their self-worth.

By using the term “resister,” we can begin to combat the “victim blaming” surrounding the occurrence of intimate partner abuse. Women abused by their intimate partners are frequently held responsible for the abuse against them. This often happens because it is difficult for those looking into the relationships from the outside to understand why the women remain in the relationships. Even some women who are abused by their intimate partners blame themselves for the abuse. Because Black women usually are not afforded the same recognition for their “victimization” as White women are, it is highly likely that Black women are viewed even more as responsible for the abuse committed against them, more than their White counterparts. White women are often seen as being in need of protection, and Black women are typically perceived as being able to protect themselves. By renaming “victims” of intimate partner abuse “resisters,” we can continue to challenge the culpability placed on all women abused by male batterers. In doing so, accountability can be directed toward the abusers and their behaviors and the social, psychological, and other sources driving these behaviors. Additionally, the term “resister” implies that battered women oppose the abuse and violence directed toward them. The term recognizes the fact that battered women regularly employ dynamic efforts to combat and control the abuse against them.

It should be noted that use of the term “resister” does not necessarily or solely reflect the women’s propensity to physically retaliate against their batterers (particularly in comparison with White women). The term is employed because of battered Black women’s experiences and perceptions, including (a) their not seeing themselves as victims and their not being seen as victims; (b) their self-perception as fighters (whether physical or use of other tactics) against abuse by intimate partners; (c) their self-perception as Strong Black Women; and (d) their personal and ancestral history as Black women who have been confronted with and have resisted continuous sociostructural, cultural, and familial obstacles. The intersecting identity of battered Black women and their varied and ever-changing resistive attempts at combating interpersonal and societal domination yield the model of dynamic resistance.

A possible problem with dynamic resistance among battered Black women may be that battered Black women who have not left their first abusive relationship may present differently from the women in this study. This needs to be addressed in future research on battered Black women, specifically considering the sample selection. However, even Black women who are currently in abusive relationships and who are severely dominated and controlled without resisting can still exude dynamic resistance because they are likely resisting other oppressive situations. Despite this unknown effect, none of the women in this investigation were necessarily completely free of abusive relationships in their lives. This idea is based on the fact that the majority of the women had been in more than one abusive relationship. An admonition based on this awareness, then, is that the concept of dynamic resistance may work even better to explain battered Black women in multiple abusive relationships. As I discuss in Chapter 5, the women remained in subsequent abusive relationships for shorter periods as they progressed through the bad relationships. In essence, they progressively built up their resistance to withstanding abuse by their male mates.

Among the varied forms of oppression or domination, including those that are institutional, societal, or interpersonal, a question arises: Against which of the oppressive entities do battered Black women find easiest to employ resistance? I assert that the forms of domination in the battered Black women’s lives should not be considered through a better-than/worse-than analysis because the forms of domination are often not comparable. For example, how can intimate partner abuse be seen as better or worse than institutional racism? Each of these abuses may cause despondency in the target of the oppression, yet likely in a different way. Further, it is the individual’s ability to cope, her history of coping, and her personal coping strategies in the face of varying forms of oppression that dictate how she is able to tackle various modes of oppression. For that reason, dynamic resistance allows one battered Black woman’s experiences with forms of oppression to be different from those of another battered Black woman. For instance, a battered Black woman who is middle-class and college educated may find it relatively easier to maneuver in and to resist forms of oppression in the social sphere because of her socioeconomic class position. She may be well informed on how her class privilege, in relation to that of Black women who are situated in lower classes, provides her with the means to avoid the levels of economic oppression that face her lower-income sisters. In this context, the middle-class, college-educated battered Black woman may find her abuser more difficult to combat than the societal-level oppressors.

Since it was developed from a Black feminist criminological standpoint, the concept of dynamic resistance allows for Black women to be viewed collectively, as well as individually, particularly since there is diversity among Black women. Collectively, these women share similar experiences with racism or colorism, sexism, sexualization, and classism from society at large and within the Black community. Individually, the women experience various levels and forms of discrimination, domination, and abuse. They resist this discrimination, domination, and abuse using similar methods as well as personal, distinct strategies.

In summary, the women who opened up their lives to me embraced the Strong Black Woman identity and rarely considered the risks of embracing this identity. Most were familiar with the Strong Black Woman concept starting early in life, and all came to exhibit the characteristics of the Strong Black Woman by adulthood. A strongly positive attribute of this concept is that the women reveled in their ability to endure the many forces of domination and the consequential tribulation that consumed their lives as Black women. However, by living by the code that “Black woman” is synonymous with “Strong Black Woman,” they did not easily place themselves in a central position in their own lives. Children, boyfriends and husbands (both abusive and nonabusive), extended family, work, community or religious obligations, and maintenance of the home were placed at the forefront of their existence. The women often put their well-being on indefinite hold or considered their personal interests only after they had cared for the needs of their families. This was even the case for the small number of women who had no children; they spoke of caring for their mothers who were in abusive relationships, providing assistance with childcare of younger siblings, or attending to the needs of battering boyfriends.

The theoretical concept of dynamic resistance effectively takes into consideration not only battered Black women’s personal experiences with violence and abuse but their assigned “place” in society and the ensuing struggles resulting from life chances based on the intertwined statuses of race, gender, sexuality, and, often, socioeconomic class. The resistance that battered Black women in the United States display is due to both perceived and real beliefs about Black women’s strength, particularly in comparison with the perceived strength of White women and battered White women. The women in this study presumed that White women remained in abusive relationships longer, relied on batterers more, did not talk or fight back as much, and were not as strong as Black women. In fact, some of their presumptions have been supported by academic investigation. The women’s deductions were based on their own struggles as Black women in a White, male-dominated society that leads to their best being recognized as resisters against all forms of oppression. Indisputably, their resistance was dynamic in every sense of the word.