There comes a moment in most Black women’s lives when the dam breaks. The filter falls off. The “yes ma’ams” fade. The carefully crafted responses disappear. And the smile you’ve been told to plaster on your face for decades becomes optional.
For many of us, that moment comes right around 50 — when the hot flashes hit, the kids are grown (or close enough) and society’s long list of expectations no longer moves us.
We simply stop caring.
And that’s a beautiful thing.
The We Do Not Care Club, started by Melani Sanders, puts words — and viral hashtags — to a truth many of us have lived quietly: Black women at midlife are done performing. We’re done shrinking. We’re done apologizing. And yes, we’re done giving a single solitary f*** about what the world thinks of us.
Taraji said it best. We’ve run out of F’s to give.
For generations, Black women have been expected to hold it all together — for our families, our churches, our jobs, our communities. We were supposed to be strong, but never angry. Sexy, but never aging. Brilliant, but never “too much.”
By the time we cross 50, we’ve spent decades carrying those contradictions on our backs. And we’re tired.
But here’s the twist: That exhaustion turns into freedom.
When we say we don’t care, we’re not saying we’ve stopped loving our people or investing in our futures. What we’ve stopped caring about is the nonsense: The unrealistic body standards, endless judgment about our hair, our choices, our voices and the idea that aging should make us invisible.
Black women over 50 are reclaiming midlife as our season of unapologetic joy. We’re traveling, starting businesses, wearing what we want (even white after Labor Day), loving who we want, and refusing to be silenced. We’re saying out loud what our mothers whispered and our grandmothers endured in silence.
And let me tell you, there’s nothing more dangerous — or more liberating — than a Black woman who no longer cares about fitting into society’s narrow boxes.
So yes, call it menopause. Call it midlife. Call it whatever you want. But I call it magic. Because when we stop giving our energy to the noise, we start giving it back to ourselves.
Black women over 50 have no f’s left to give — and that might be the very thing that saves us.
