Unspoken truths about labeling our Black girls and policing their femininity before they can explore it themselves. Don't walk like that or wear that you got men looking at you.
This is such an important conversation. I was vehemently warned against becoming a fast girl when I was 9 or 10 just because a boy in my class liked me and I thought he was cute.
My mother and grandmother went into a rage telling me I needed to keep my legs closed and the books open. Huh?!?! I didn’t even know what that meant.
I shut down emotionally and refused to tell them anything again. They were not a safe space and their labeling me was uncalled for.
This is such a good piece. I recently wrote about being mislabeled as a tomboy and then boy crazy. Neither were true but shaped so much about how I viewed myself and interactions with others. Thank you for writing this!
While I understand the lack of Black women and girls’ autonomy and the ever present predatory behaviors by men and systems around them likely led to this traumatic culture of calling our girls fast, I just wish our elders as a whole had a little more self introspection and investigating how harmful this was/is. I was never explicitly called fast but my body and how I dressed it was heavily policed by my mother and I was often warned if men looking at me. Even as a young girl, it never made sense to me that so much effort was put into my appearance to ward off strangers. I would ask, in some form or fashion, why not confront the men then? I would never get an answer, and now as an adult, I realize she probably didn’t have an answer. She was raised in a very religious male centered environment and her youngest child,me, was innately the opposite. I recognize she may not have had the tools, but whew, I often wish she and others knew to recognize that and get them. I’m grateful for my group of friends and family members who are no longer carrying this trauma to our girls and boys.
HONEYEEEEEEE! DEEP. Because “fast” was never about us moving too quickly. It was about grown folks projecting their shame onto our becoming.
Too many of us were parented through fear, not protection. Silenced when we needed language. Punished for a gaze we didn’t invite. Told to shrink when our bodies showed up before we had the tools to understand them. And then expected to navigate the world with confidence and discernment while still recovering from being blamed for being seen.
What this piece names with clarity is what many of us have always known in our bones: “fast” is not a descriptor—it’s a warning label placed on our girlhood to justify why it didn’t deserve tenderness.
We were never too much. We were just unprotected.
I think often about how different our homes would feel if mothers had the space to tend to their own wounds before handing down their silence. How different our communities could be if we replaced warnings with wisdom. If we actually taught our daughters what power feels like when it’s grounded, not punished.
The term “fast” needs to die with the generation that invented it. Our girls don’t need discipline in the shape of shame. They need truth, they need questions, and they need adults who remember what it felt like to be misunderstood and choose differently anyway.
This is such an important conversation. I was vehemently warned against becoming a fast girl when I was 9 or 10 just because a boy in my class liked me and I thought he was cute.
My mother and grandmother went into a rage telling me I needed to keep my legs closed and the books open. Huh?!?! I didn’t even know what that meant.
I shut down emotionally and refused to tell them anything again. They were not a safe space and their labeling me was uncalled for.
very good piece! and so needed at this time
Such a great piece, thank you for writing this!
This is such a good piece. I recently wrote about being mislabeled as a tomboy and then boy crazy. Neither were true but shaped so much about how I viewed myself and interactions with others. Thank you for writing this!
I'm so glad you liked it!!
While I understand the lack of Black women and girls’ autonomy and the ever present predatory behaviors by men and systems around them likely led to this traumatic culture of calling our girls fast, I just wish our elders as a whole had a little more self introspection and investigating how harmful this was/is. I was never explicitly called fast but my body and how I dressed it was heavily policed by my mother and I was often warned if men looking at me. Even as a young girl, it never made sense to me that so much effort was put into my appearance to ward off strangers. I would ask, in some form or fashion, why not confront the men then? I would never get an answer, and now as an adult, I realize she probably didn’t have an answer. She was raised in a very religious male centered environment and her youngest child,me, was innately the opposite. I recognize she may not have had the tools, but whew, I often wish she and others knew to recognize that and get them. I’m grateful for my group of friends and family members who are no longer carrying this trauma to our girls and boys.
HONEYEEEEEEE! DEEP. Because “fast” was never about us moving too quickly. It was about grown folks projecting their shame onto our becoming.
Too many of us were parented through fear, not protection. Silenced when we needed language. Punished for a gaze we didn’t invite. Told to shrink when our bodies showed up before we had the tools to understand them. And then expected to navigate the world with confidence and discernment while still recovering from being blamed for being seen.
What this piece names with clarity is what many of us have always known in our bones: “fast” is not a descriptor—it’s a warning label placed on our girlhood to justify why it didn’t deserve tenderness.
We were never too much. We were just unprotected.
I think often about how different our homes would feel if mothers had the space to tend to their own wounds before handing down their silence. How different our communities could be if we replaced warnings with wisdom. If we actually taught our daughters what power feels like when it’s grounded, not punished.
The term “fast” needs to die with the generation that invented it. Our girls don’t need discipline in the shape of shame. They need truth, they need questions, and they need adults who remember what it felt like to be misunderstood and choose differently anyway.