The Grace Black Women Aren’t Given When Grieving

Grief Support Is a Luxury Some Communities Can't Afford

I've been sitting with a heavy truth lately: grief support is a luxury, one that far too many in our communities can't afford, not because the resources don't exist, but because the space, time, and cultural permission to use them often doesn't.

In my work with The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc., I've witnessed the profound difference between those who are encouraged and allowed to tend to their grief, and those who are expected to push through it. I've seen which communities show up for themselves in the grief space, and which communities either show up late or not at all.

Let's be real: in many Black communities, and especially among Black women, grief is something you carry silently. There's work to do. Children to raise. Bills that won't pause just because your heart is broken. You're expected to "keep going." "Be strong." "Don't fall apart."

And so, we bury the pain. We shop it away. We entertain it away. We'll spend hundreds of dollars on VIP tickets for a concert because dancing for one night feels easier than sitting still with the ache. But mention a healing retreat or a grief workshop that costs less than dinner and drinks? It's often met with silence, resistance, or delay.

Healing is a privilege when you're constantly expected to survive.

This isn't judgment. This is heartbreak. Because when you're in the thick of grief, you shouldn't have to choose between healing and surviving. You should have both. But society doesn't always offer that grace to Black women. And churches where many of us still seek refuge often don't have grief ministries in place. Prayer is vital, yes. But so is therapy. So is community. So is coaching. God honors your tears and your need for support.

At The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc., we've become a trusted resource hub especially for women grieving the loss of their mothers. Our blogs, podcast episodes, and personal reflections are shared daily, offering companionship in a space where many feel alone.

Still, I can't ignore the question that lingers in my spirit:

How do we show up for people in grief, when they haven't been taught or haven't felt safe enough to show up for themselves?

The answer isn't easy. But it may start with compassion over correction. Gentle invitations instead of guilt. And creating spaces that say:

"You don't have to be ready. Just come. We'll hold the space until you are."

Grief is heavy. But it's not meant to be carried alone.

I share these thoughts not as a professional, but as someone who has lived it, wept through it, rebuilt from it.

Kinyatta

Founder, The Heart of Miss Bee, Inc.