Why I'm Over The Carefree Black Girl Label

Willow Smith (Dave Kotinsky/Getty Images for Vitamin Water)
Willow Smith (Dave Kotinsky/Getty Images for Vitamin Water)

The advent of the social media era has brought about a great many things – some good, some bad – and notably it has facilitated the emergence of safe and thriving spaces for underrepresented people of color, both men and women. Worldwide, communities of Back women have been able to stand in their glory and showcase their worth in spite of a patriarchal and institutionally racist society that seems altogether determined to put Black women in limiting boxes of what we can and can’t be, what we represent, and what we have to offer.


On the whole, this is great. Seeing women use technology to establish their own self-determination in the face of marginalized expectations is fantastic. Taking a peek at hashtags such as #BlackGirlsAreMagic will introduce you to a rich multitude of women who are kicking ass and taking names, whether it be Serena Williams versus arguably PED-laden fairer-skinned European rivals, Gabby Douglas continuing to make waves in the global gymnastics circuit, plus-sized women on the cover of EBONY, or women of color being highlighted at the forefront of the current social justice movement.

This has also in some ways metastasized into the concept of the “Carefree Black Girl” – the Black woman who defies gendered and cultural norms set upon Black women in society by doing things on her own terms, her 3c hair or twist outs flowing in the wind, bralessness and septum piercing optional but preferred. Tumblr aesthetic aside, on its face I understand the seeming empowerment behind praising women who seemingly set their own terms for how they comport themselves; but nontraditional and carefree are not synonymous terms and shouldn’t be treated as if they are. Nevertheless, I find myself constantly reading depictions of women with various amount of celebrity being affixed with this “carefree Black girl” title and I find myself at a loss as to why this is happening.

One such recent case is Cardi B – a woman who, through a series of Instagram videos about love, life, and strip club etiquette, has won over the heart of the inner hoodrat of many of us. (Present company included.) Cardi ‘s brash and no-holds barred approach to bopping and thotting is many things – witty, insightful, entertaining (as long as it’s not directed to the brown M&M peanut known as DJ Self) – but carefree it is not. Cardi is trying to get out of the hood of the Kingsbridge section of the Bronx; she has openly stated that she got out of stripping to get out of an abusive relationship. Cardi B cares, and she cares a lot. The realities of her life don’t allow her to be carefree, but they do allow her to not be afraid of being bold and enterprising by any means necessary.

This doesn’t apply just to Cardi either. Most Black women, I would argue, care about a great deal of things – how to advance in their careers, how to not be reduced to their sexualized identities, how to find something else to keep you warm at night besides your degrees, etc. Personally speaking, on any given day my range of concerns can be as broad as demanding respect in a male-dominated field, to rerouting my daily path home because of the creep that figured out my schedule, to stressing over the fact that H&M seems to have an eternal vendetta against cutting pants that accommodate my rice-and-plantains fed behind.

The fact is,that most of us simply don’t have the liberty to be carefree beyond a certain point. And that is perfectly okay. The Smith kids may be the “carefree black teens” ambassadors, with their rejection of formal schooling and dabbling in whatever whims come to mind, but I don’t know how us regular folks can really extrapolate that circumstance to our day-to-day lives, although I am more than open to suggestions.

Ultimately, why do we want so badly to have that carefree label? What is so intrinsically better about it? Being a Black woman is amazing, and I fervently believe we should celebrate that at every turn possible. It’s also hard, and consequently difficult to create a “carefree” space in a world where there are so many lenses that are boring down on us. And that’s okay! It really is. We shouldn’t feel so beholden as to pursue this carefree state of mind when what most people seem to ultimately seek is as much self-determination as possible.


Additionally, why do we label some of the people we do as carefree in the first place? People were heartbroken when they found out Lianne la Havas was part of the All Lives Matter ilk. But why did we associate her as carefree and woke in the first place? Taking pictures with flowers in your fro indicates nothing beyond following the same aesthetic that you can see at any FKA twigs concert and says nothing about how you comport yourself in day to day life, or in Black, White, or blue spaces. Yes, hair and aesthetics can certainly serve as a political or bold statement, but placing that label on someone who hasn’t claimed it for themselves is unnecessary and just as ridiculous as the eternal memes comparing the Ayesha Currys and the Kim Kardashians of the world.

I encourage all of us to use our words and not be so lazy as to describe things as carefree when we mean a litany of other things. Creative doesn’t mean carefree. Neither does midnight blue hair. Or being proud. Or laying in a bed of flowers. Or wearing a crop top year round. Or making your own deep conditioner. Or having casual sex partners. Or going to AfroPunk Festival. Or engaging in sex work. Or any one of the plethora of ways that people choose to go against the grain of the limited selection of boxes Black women seem to be allowed to check. We can celebrate the array of ways that Black women have chosen to represent themselves without reducing it to a catch-all term that seems to run counter to the reality of not just being a Black woman in America, but in much of the world. Most of us don’t have the pleasure of truly being free from anxiety or responsibility. But more and more, we’re finding ways to carve out our own flourishing spaces despite that, and that is more than remarkable enough for me.

Brooklyn-based writer by way of Harlem, Canada and East Africa who comments on culture, identity, politics and likes all things Dipset.



Slightly off-topic: I cringe every single time I hear Black women referred to as 'girls'. I know it isn't meant as a slight but it really, really bothers me.