The Saga Continues: Our Identity As A Discussion for the World

Introduction

Black women’s bodies have never simply existed in America—they’ve always been dissected, debated, labeled, and controlled. From the moment Saartjie Baartman was paraded through 19th-century Europe as a spectacle of anatomy rather than a human being, the world began its long obsession with turning Black femininity into public discourse. What should have been sacred and sovereign became public property. Our curves, our hair, our skin, our style—nothing was exempt from inspection.

In the American imagination, Black women have often been sexualized, dehumanized, or used as symbols of labor, lust, and ridicule. Stereotypes like the Jezebel, Mammy, and Sapphire weren’t just tropes—they were tools to justify violence, exclusion, and control. Yet in spite of it all, Black women have always responded with creativity, grace, and resistance.

The Sapphire Trope

The Sapphire trope is a long-standing stereotype that portrays Black women as loud, angry, emasculating, and combative—a direct contrast to the submissive and docile ideals often placed on white femininity. Named after the character “Sapphire Stevens” from the 1950s radio and television show Amos ‘n’ Andy, the trope reinforced the idea that Black women are difficult to work with, emotionally volatile, and inherently aggressive.

Where the Jezebel stereotype reduced Black women to hypersexual beings and the Mammy trope painted them as nurturing and self-sacrificing for white families, the Sapphire trope cast Black women as verbally abusive, constantly dissatisfied, and threats to male authority—especially Black male authority. This narrative didn’t just emerge in media; it was cultivated to justify systemic silencing.

Throughout history, the Sapphire image has been used to:

• Dismiss legitimate emotion: When Black women express frustration or passion, they’re often labeled as “angry” or “unprofessional,” regardless of tone or content.

• Undermine leadership: In workplaces, politics, and social spaces, this stereotype has made it difficult for Black women to lead without being accused of being "too harsh."

• Police behavior: The fear of being seen as “too much” has caused many Black women to shrink themselves—modulating their voice, tone, and presence in order to be palatable.

  
  

Even today, when a Black woman stands firm, asks questions, or demands respect, she risks being labeled a Sapphire. The damage of this trope is that it pathologizes strength while ignoring the resilience born out of survival.

Reclaiming Our Image

Reclaiming our image means recognizing that assertiveness is not anger. Passion is not aggression. And demanding dignity is not emasculation. The Sapphire trope, like others, is a projection—one we continue to dismantle by standing in our truth, with clarity, grace, and power.

We took our power back.

Through fashion, we have redefined beauty on our own terms. Bold prints, protective hairstyles, modest silhouettes, locs, headwraps—every choice speaks to a legacy of both survival and style. Through integrity, we’ve chosen dignity in a world that profits off our pain. And through image reclamation—on social media, in art, in business—we’ve rewritten the narrative. We are not caricatures. We are creators. Yet, even as we rise, the critique follows.

Thomas J. Price’s “Grounded in the Stars,” a towering bronze statue of a Black woman in Times Square, was meant to celebrate presence, power, and everyday divinity. She stands tall in her quiet, unshakable confidence—hair natural, body unapologetically Black. But the backlash was swift. Some called her unworthy of representation. Others questioned her femininity or “likability.” Once again, the world debated our body. Once again, our presence was too loud, too much, too different.

More revealing, though, was how some non-Black critics mocked the statue by assigning it exaggerated phrases in AAVE (African American Vernacular English), using linguistic stereotypes to belittle the figure’s dignity. This attempt at humor cloaked in racism reduced her to a punchline—an echo of the same historical ridicule that has long plagued Black women in public space. It was a reminder that even when we are exalted, we are still subjected to mockery rooted in ignorance and fear.

Comic Illustration inspired by commentary on "Grounded in the Stars" by Thomas J. Price.

"Grounded In The Stars" Reminds Us: The Saga Isn't Over

But we are not asking for permission anymore. We are being. And like the statue, we are grounded—rooted in something deeper than trends or approval—yet reaching for the stars, refusing to shrink. So the world can keep discussing. We’ll keep embodying the greatness that lives within our spirit and melanin.

By: Amber Aviva, Aspiring Vessel