Toni Morrison once said, “For me the history of the place of Black people in this country is so varied, complex and beautiful.” I read the influence of Mother Morrison’s quote among the stories, essays and poems shared in the anthology The Black Superwoman & Mental Health (Peter Lang). This collection, edited by Drs. Venise T. Berry and Janette Y. Taylor, highlights the primary mental health challenges that Black women face: anxiety, bias, spirituality, suicide. It’s a complex and beautiful mix of emotions and narratives. Per the preface written by award-winning author Marita Golden, “This book will become a seminal text, a crucial reference” to the overdue dialogue Black women are having more often about mental wellness and healing.
There are several themes front and present throughout the anthology, including microaggressions, self doubt and silence about it all. The most prominent of them is the idealization of the “strong Black superwoman,” the narrative that Black women are and should be everything to everybody. Shanita Baraka Akintonde’s essay “I Am Not Your Superwoman: I Only Play One on TV” sheds light on this harmful misnomer by exploring its impacts on Black women’s mental health. She cites examples of this internal war at play in pop culture works like Beyonce’s Lemonade album and Jodie Turner Smith’s protagonist in the film Queen & Slim, writing, “Black women’s essential strength is needed by many and requited by few.”
The prose of the anthology’s poets hit just as hard. In “My Sisters in Media,” Moala Bannavti calls out the tropes: “We are Black women in media / Mammy / Jezebel / Overworked / Walked through hell.” Averi Bryant’s “Holes In My Mind” explores the psychological effects of this messaging; Black women facing constant discouragement, misogynoir and resentment grow to undervalue themselves. As a reader who happens to be a Black woman, the message is clear and relatable, especially as someone inhabiting predominately white spaces on a daily basis.
Anika Dean speaks to this in “Abandoned, Disappointed, and Angry,” a recounting of her interactions with white liberal friends five days after the murder of George Floyd. “During this time of unrest, amid a global pandemic, mental health was at a low point for many people. But especially within the Black community, my community.”
Interwoven with these real-life stories are a few fictional pieces, which pack the same emotional punch as the essays and poetry. After reading Cynthia Harbor’s “Jess and the Boo Hag” — it’s giving “Southern noir Cinderella meets Octavia Butler in the lowcountry” vibes — I immediately emailed Harbor to request more of this magical realism hoodoo tale of a Black woman working to decenter her toxic stepfamily. It was equal parts hoodoo fairy tale and call for self-care. Thick! by Jan Pena-Davis follows Bea, a woman on a weight loss journey. Without the proper support she deserves in place, Bea struggles to navigate everyone else’s thoughts about it. (Sound familiar, sistas?)
In all, this anthology grips its reader on a ride of emotions, fears and successes while reminding us to check in on the real “strong friend”: ourselves.
This article was originally published in Little Village’s December 2025 issue.
