Years ago, a colleague made a comment that stayed with me. She explained that while in college, her campus was asked to read Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. My colleague, a liberal/progressive white woman in her 70’s, spoke about the trials faced by Pecola Breedlove, the novel’s protagonist, who is often looked upon as a symbol of self-hatred.

I remember that when I read the book, I had to stop midway. I told myself I'd come back to it, but I needed to stop. The affronts to Pecola’s personhood were just too unrelenting. 

I looked at my colleague and realized then that, despite her 70 years on this Earth, she had no capacity to understand or absorb the unrelenting nature of aggression levied toward Black women and girls. Morrison’s book, published in the year of my birth, represented such a severe abstraction from her sense of what reality is for many Black women and girls. Not simply a horrible, out-of-the-ordinary crisis, but what Black women and girls face every day in big and small ways—the assertion from society that we are not wanted, we do not belong, and that we must outperform for any recognition.

So, when we do win, we make a big deal about it. We stamp it with #BlackGirlMagic in gold foil, big it up on all the social platforms, and do all we can to be affirming instead of critical (if we can help it) because we know what it took to get there. We know the work involved in doing anything of significance and we also know she had the added burden of navigating the social-emotional economics that rob us of our focus and energy. The narrative seems to lean towards the idea that even when we win, we also lose, and the result is a draw.

And, yet, as it is in little Black girls' fairytales of being unbothered by the twin assaults of racism and sexism, we DID win. Here are just a few examples of how Black women and girls did exactly that in 2023.

This year has been a win for Black folks and love. Whether it’s Ashanti rekindling their flame or the love and acceptance for transgender/gender non-conforming youth by their parents (we see you, Marlon Wayans and Dwyane Wade), we have seen countless examples of speaking up and out for Black women and girls and gender expansive youth in our lives. And it is beautiful!

And we have also seen the not-so-lovely. KeKe Palmer and Cardi B both revealed the inner turmoil of their relationships, resulting in public break-ups.  And even though they probably wished it didn’t play out this way, they also received full social media spreads of support from their collective fans.

And while we may not have yet learned of all the instances of abuse and violation, we can uplift the ways in which the community is rallying around Black women and girls who are survivors of sexual abuse and were compelled to speak out after the New York Adult Survivors Act passed a lookback statute, where they now feel empowered to tell the truth about the horrible things that have happened to them. 

There’s nothing new about Black women’s bodies being viewed as machines utilized for labor without care or concern for their interiority. What is new is their open refusal of this dynamic and the recovery that has come in the form of new arrivals, rest, and wins. This is no more visible than in the world of sports.

Olympians Sha’carri Richardson and Simone Biles are living their passion. Periodt! Despite public shame and setbacks or simply the audacity to sit out and address their mental health, both of these elite athletes have returned better than ever this year and with their whole selves.  And by the way, isn’t it wonderful to see Simone married and in love? Congratulations, sis! 

Enter baby Shai and baby Adira River, who were born to their tennis mom phenoms, Naomi Osaka and Serena Williams, respectively.  Both followed in the footsteps of Allyson Felix and left the game to be human. While we expect Naomi to return, the G.O.A.T., made the decision to retire. We love to see Black women owning their worth, their labor, and their rest.

These record-and-boundary-setting moms' decisions are even more poignant as we learned of the death of elite track and field athlete Tori Bowie. She was found dead after a wellness check, and it would later be determined that she died as a result of complications related to childbirth. 

This year, we have witnessed more wins for Black women in the political sphere. Those who showed a continued effort to stabilize our flailing democracy amidst the disparagement of their names. Many thanks to Lafonsa Butler for keeping the California Senate seat warm until the next election, a seat left vacant after the passing of Senator Diane Feinstein. 

Also, one to watch is the mayor of Los Angeles, Karen Bass, who is doing what many before have not done by trying to legitimately address the unhoused epidemic with respect and regard for the people most affected. And a hearty congratulations to Cherelle Parker, the new mayor-elect of the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia. 

For Black women, all leadership and service is political because the title of “leader” is not readily ascribed to us. And yet, we persist. In addition to the myriad ways Vice President Kamala Harris continues to be undermined for fear she will be named the President of the United States, Fani Taifa Willis, Leticia James, and Tanya Chutkan forge ahead in their legal stewardship to hold the 45th President of the U.S. accountable for his crimes. 

This year, we have also seen Black women ascend and, unfortunately, find their demise as presidential leaders of colleges/universities across the country. At the start of the academic year, Dr. Orinthia T. Montague, president of Volunteer State Community College, and JoAnne Epps, president of Temple University, both died suddenly. This happened just as two other Black women were celebrated for their presidencies: Dr. Claudine Gay, who was sworn in at Harvard this fall, and Dr. Melissa Gilliam, who was sworn in at Boston University, as their next university leader. 

 It is not surprising for Black folks to have wins in media and entertainment.  We are talented and have been historically relegated to entertaining our oppressors. This summer, Beyoncé welcomed us to the RENAISSANCE and we all gathered in glimmery silver, light-up hats, and all manner of high fashion to get low at the only world tour party. It was a moment that amplified the liberatory potential accessible in LGBTQIA+ ballroom culture. 

Black women continue to tell our stories on the big and streaming screens.  Issa Rae gave us the second season of “Rap Sh!t” as hip hop celebrated its 50th year by honoring Lil Kim, Queen Latifah, MC Lyte, Moni Love, The Real Roxane Shante, Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, Lauryn Hill, and so many others. Oprah Winfrey’s decision to recast “The Color Purple” for a new audience and generation and Ava DuVernay continues to astound us with her new project, "Origin," the independent film based on Isabel Wilkerson’s book, “Caste.” DuVernay raised $38 million through the generosity of the philanthropic community and donors to get the film made. She, like so many others, made a way out of no way.

A Look Back at Finding Our Voices

While this year, many of us asked to be removed from the group chat, articulating a desire not to know so much of what was happening in the private lives of our favorite celebrities, Black women have been reclaiming their narratives. In her book, “Worthy,” Jada Pinkett-Smith said all the parts out loud and explained them to us. Sheila Johnson, co-founder of BET and owner of the Salamander luxury hotel and resort, also told her story in “Walk Through Fire,” a tell-all about entering and leaving a marriage and business that took way more than it gave. 

And finally, a look at those we lost and those whose last wishes were finally heard from the grave. This year, we lost the iconic Tina Turner. We also said goodbye to actresses Mary Alice and Ellen Holly, as well as Richard Roundtree, who we know brought many a Black woman pleasure from the big screen during the Blacksploitation film era and beyond. And, while we lost Aretha Franklin five years ago, it took as much time for her voice through her last will and testament to be heard. 

Like Pecola's narrative in The Bluest Eye, the collective stories of Black women and girls in 2023 have been laced with highs and lows, wins and losses. Regardless of the score board at the end of the year, Black women and girls remain uniquely positioned to impact the lives of everyone in our circle, leaving the world and ourselves forever changed for the better.

Dr. Wendi S. Williams is the author of “Black Women at Work: On Refusal and Recovery” and “WE Matter!: Intersectional Anti-Racist Feminist Interventions with Black Girls and Women.” Her podcast, She(Been)Ready!, amplifies the leadership legacy of Black women by mining the leadership strategies nestled in Black women’s (and other diverse leaders’) narratives. Learn more about Dr. Wendi's work at drwendiwilliams.com.