The Invisible Black Woman

You didn’t think I was going to stop at one love letter to rest, did you? No way, no how. Not when rest is as necessary—and revolutionary—as breathing. Yesterday, I told you I was offline for a few days to embrace the radical and restorative power of rest, and today, I’m doubling down. Why? Because for Black women, one reminder to rest is never enough. Society keeps whispering (or shouting) that we don’t deserve it. But let me be clear: we do.

Rest isn’t a one-time event. It’s not a box to check or a thing to “earn.” It’s a lifestyle. A mindset. A refusal to accept exhaustion as a badge of honor. Rest is a practice that deserves space in our lives—not just on the weekends, not just during holidays, and definitely not just when burnout has taken us out of the game.

You see, rest is more than sleep. Rest is choosing yourself in a world that insists you come last. It’s not just physical—it’s emotional, mental, and spiritual. It’s shutting down the group chat when the drama gets too loud. It’s saying, “I’m not available” without explanation. It’s taking back those moments that everything and everyone who isve’t vested in your rest and well-being try to steal from you every chance they get.

And let’s talk about why this is so hard for Black women in particular. We’re conditioned to believe we have to keep going no matter what. That if we pause, the world will fall apart—or worse, we’ll be judged for being “lazy” or “ungrateful.” But here’s the truth: rest isn’t a weakness. It’s a rebellion. It’s a full-on, unapologetic act of defiance against systems that profit off our exhaustion—and our amazingness.

I’m reminded of something Audre Lorde said: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Let me run that back for the people in the back: political warfare. Every time you rest, you’re dismantling the myth that you have to be superhuman to be worthy.

Whew.

And if you’re thinking, “But I don’t have time to rest,” let me lovingly call BS, sis. You have time—you just need to reclaim it like Maxine Waters. Go ahead and chant it if you have to. Take five minutes, take five hours, take whatever you can and block the world out. Watch how your body, your mind, your soul sigh in collective relief.

I’ll be honest: resting doesn’t come naturally to me, either. My default setting is “keep going,” even when the fuel tank’s flashing empty. But this time, I committed to myself. I unplugged. I let the world spin without me, and surprise—it didn’t fall apart. Instead, I felt something rare and profound: peace.

So no, I’m not done talking about rest. Because every time I lean into rest, I learn something new about myself. I remember that I am more than my to-do list. I rediscover the joy of simply existing without the constant pressure to perform.

And maybe you need to hear this again, too: rest isn’t a reward. It’s a requirement. It’s not something you squeeze in—it’s something you center. And for Black women especially, rest is the love we give to ourselves when the world refuses to.

So, if you’ve been waiting for permission to rest, don’t look at me. Nobody else neither. You don’t have to get permission to enjoy something that belongs to you. And while you’re at it, ask yourself: How can I rest today? How can I rest on purpose?

I’ll be here, cheering you on from my restful, quiet corner.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the glorious rest that awaits you.