African societies adopted this view to ensure that power and titles of leadership were conferred through the mother’s lines. This matriarchal foundation of African society meant that respect for women was woven into the very fabric of society. African social organization was fundamentally built around the matriclan, wherein one’s identity, inheritance, wealth, and politics are all determined. All matriclan founders were female, but men traditionally held leadership positions within the society. These inherited roles, however, are passed down matrilineally, meaning through a man’s mothers and sisters (and their children). Women remained indispensable to the reproduction of communities in matrilineal societies, for their bloodlines defined the transmission of both office and wealth.
Women were the major food producers, and thus not only had ready access to land but also had authority over how the land was to be used and cultivated. The value of women’s productive labor in producing and processing food established and maintained their rights in the domestic and other spheres. Lobola, a customary Southern African dowry practice, gave women a certain amount of economic independence and clout. In the past, African women retained a measure of control over their lobola, which economically empowered them.
Foreign invasions, particularly Islam and later European colonialism, significantly exacerbated and hastened the erosion of women’s status. It’s a common misconception, held by both Africans and non-Africans, that the current status of women in Africa mirrors their status in ‘traditional African societies.’ This, however, isn’t accurate.
What is correct is that missionary activities and the desire of European missionaries to recreate African families into monogamous and nuclear units were possibly the biggest contributors to the sidelining of women’s earning power and their ability to claim the proceeds of their labor. Even the development of legal systems under colonialism guaranteed that women were at a disadvantage, as “customary” laws were often established based on male testimony alone. This gave men, especially elite men, advantages over women in issues of marriage and divorce.
The colonial production system, which excluded women from the cash economy, was imported by missionaries, and the colonial wage economy was essentially a male one. A significant contributing factor to the persistent gender inequality in Africa was the introduction of a gender-biased educational system by missionaries. During colonial times, the introduction of cash crops and women’s subsequent exclusion from the global marketplace greatly diminished women’s power and economic autonomy. Even further, men and international commerce benefited because they were able to rely to some extent on women’s unremunerated labor.
In precolonial Africa, women’s significant role in agricultural production meant their labor was necessary; it was the labor that yielded surplus.192 It was women who developed the practice of purposeful cultivation and were responsible for food production. There is also strong linguistic and archaeological evidence to point to women’s strong social and political authority across Africa.
Indications are that avenues for female political representation were only closed off during the colonial period. Patriarchal alliances struck between various colonial administrations and African chiefs and elders resulted in the systematization and codification of patriarchy across African societies. Women’s precolonial political activity was generally disregarded by the colonial authorities, who turned exclusively to men when they established local political offices. In many parts of Africa, women were members of associations run by and for women, which gave women the final say in disputes over markets or agriculture. The colonial agents, nearly always men, ignored that reality.
In the past, African societies had a dual-sex political system that allowed for substantial female representation and involvement in governance. Cheikh Anta Diop explains bicameralism, a type of governance our ancestors used to rule their people. Before Africa came under the dominance of any foreign powers, women had a position of influence in society. A key aspect of precolonial African political structure was bicameralism, wherein women had their own separate assembly distinct from the men’s assembly. Despite their separate natures, these assemblies shared influence and power, reflecting the valued role of women in public affairs. This assembly sat separately from the man’s assembly, but the two shared influence and power. The resistance against foreign invasion and occupation of West African nations such as Dahomey (Benin) and the Yorubas in Nigeria is said to be a result of the women’s assembly meeting at night. African bicameralism allowed the blossoming of both males and females and allowed the full use of both the feminine and masculine minds.193
Bicameralism is an ancient example of African democracy that made full use of the human resources of society in a manner that supported and encouraged everyone. In modern times, prominent figures like Winnie Mandela have continued the call for women’s empowerment. Mandela contended that women should rise up to challenge their marginalization in male-dominated society by declaring “nothing about us without us” and encouraging them to take active roles in all social and political structures.194
Historian Ivor Wilks refers to the sixteenth century in African history as the “era of great ancestresses,” a time characterized by egalitarian social structures. According to C. Magbaily Fyle, Professor in the African American Studies and African Studies departments at the Ohio State University, although men dominated politics in Africa in the precolonial period, there were quite a few women who played an active role in politics and government. Africa, with its diverse cultures and traditions, has experienced variations in the roles and status of women. While women were generally not subservient to men, their exercise of power and authority was not uniform across the continent.
•For instance, among the Sotho of South Africa, daughters of sub-rulers were heads of women’s regiments, showing the direct involvement of women in governance and military affairs. Another example is found during the reign of Sigidi ka Senzangakhona, also known as Shaka. His aunt Mkabayi and Queen Mother Nandi were given substantial authority, placed in charge of military kraals, and empowered to govern while the Emperor was on campaign.
•In Niger and Chad, women led migrations, formed cities, and conquered kingdoms, such as Queen Amina of Katsina (Songhai people).
•In Yoruba political culture, there was the Iyalode, who was a member of the Alafin’s council. This was the judiciary body in Yoruba.
•The Iyalode was a female representative who was responsible for women’s issues and their spokeswoman at the Alafin’s meetings.
•In Sierra Leone, among the Mende and Sherbro people, by the nineteenth century, women could be heads of towns and sub-regions.195
The African cultural concepts of “rights in persons” (the value of individual human capabilities) and “wealth in people” (the importance of human resources) placed a significant value on women’s labor and procreation. Colonial powers understood this, and thus the most important project of colonialism was to destroy the African family structure, as this is the most important economic and political institution.
Ultimately, the patriarchal assumptions of European colonial administrators and missionaries shaped colonial economic structures and gender-biased education systems. These changes, in turn, enabled African chiefs and male elders to orchestrate a social coup. Therefore, it’s important to reassess our understanding of African women’s status as “traditional.” This label often misrepresents historical and cultural realities and can prevent us from fully acknowledging and addressing the challenges they face today. In many cases, colonizers manipulated what we now recognize as our customary law to impose patriarchal norms. They often co-opted, distorted, or reinvented local traditions to justify and entrench the subordination of women, a legacy that continues to impact the status of women in society.196
According to Professor Emerita and former chair of the Women’s Spirituality Program at the California Institute of Integral Studies, Arisika Razak, many early African cultures did not separate the sacred and secular dimensions of life, but created images that depicted Black women as sacred embodiments of social, spiritual, and cultural power. While individuals of diverse sexual orientations and diverse genders exist in Africa as they do everywhere else in the world, the cultural and artistic celebration of the African Sacred Feminine was a part of many precolonial African societies.
In their ancestral African cultures, both men and women revered female deities and elemental powers, and today, people of all genders still do so in a few instances from Nigeria. Although many spiritually-based North, Central, and West African cultures were patriarchal, they still acknowledged the existence of male and female deities and affirmed the spiritual power, political authority, and social leadership of women.197
Razak asserts that, in spite of imposed sexist gender norms, African American culture affirms Black women’s leadership. Take, for example, the pivotal roles played by women in the Civil Rights Movement and other liberation struggles that served the interests of the entire population, regardless of gender. In addition, historical images of the African Sacred Feminine offer a healing template for the wounds of racial misogyny that African American women still experience with regard to their bodies, their sexualities, and their social and spiritual roles.198 Furthermore, the activism, leadership, and spiritual power of iconic African American women such as Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, and Ida B. Wells,199 who all embody the womanist ideals of Black feminism professed by Alice Walker, are rooted in West African cultural concepts that viewed spiritual power, economic prowess, physical strength, and political authority as characteristics shared by all genders and therefore characteristic of both the masculine and feminine realms.200
African Americans in the United States celebrate many new spiritual traditions. Some of these traditions emanate from the Black church, while others draw from African-derived traditions. These African roots can be traced back to various cultures, including Yoruba, Fon, Igbo, Dahomean, and Khemetic sources. They provided African Americans of both sexes with potential sites of resistance to racist oppression201 and reflected West African concepts of women’s power. Among the Ibo and Yoruba, women held power as individuals202 and as members of female collectives, which were part of dual-gendered systems of social, spiritual, and political power.203 These collectives enabled women to challenge, critique, punish, and make war against individual men, as well as masculine collectives and colonial bureaucracies.204
My studies, particularly my Women in Africa class, which I proudly passed with an A, greatly influenced not only my academic understanding, but also my personal outlook. I began to see myself and the legacy of Black women through a different lens. This newfound knowledge also reframed the way I looked at other Black women and my legacy of greatness. I knew that it was rooted in matriarchy, or even more accurately, in bicameralism, where women participated in the running of public affairs within the framework of a women’s assembly. Our lineage was passed down through matrilineal lines, with women’s power, political authority, and social leadership central to the fabric of the collective good of the community. Again, like the understanding of our beauty, the energy that we transmit is one of the divine feminine, and our legacy is one of immense power that has no home within the false and harmful stereotypes of the Strong Black Woman, the Sapphire, or the Jezebel. By harnessing this truth, I started to embrace my power as innate and ordained by my ancestors, rather than a mark of aggression or lack of self-control.
Moreover, I came to understand that decolonizing my mind would be a lifelong journey. It entails recalling and relearning my true story, a narrative that my ancestors had to endure during the processes of colonization, enslavement, and displacement. By embracing the truth about how wonderful we are in every way and how worthy we are to be both admired and revered in a central role of respect, we honor what our ancestors wanted for us. They made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure our minds remained free, regardless of the physical bondage our ancestors suffered over generations. To honor that sacrifice, it’s important that I uphold a legacy of greatness, intelligence, and excellence. Embracing Black excellence means more than subscribing to notions of “working twice as hard,” chronic burnout, “grinding,” stress, and “hustle culture.” Instead, it’s about choosing to embody the woman I was destined to be, a destiny etched in the blood that runs through my veins. My divinity affords me autonomy and the right to choose how I present myself and interact with the world. I create life not just with my womb but with my thoughts, my words, and my actions. That is true divine energy.
True freedom comes from understanding our past, not only on the American continent but across the African diaspora and back to antiquity in precolonial Africa. Understanding our truth creates a barrier against being oppressed, subjugated, or mentally enslaved by harmful constructs. Such accounts often inflict damage on our mental health and emotional well-being, leaving us with a persistent feeling that something is missing. The missing piece is our authentic self-identity. We are embodiments of divine femininity, a philosophy of reverence for the goddesses of the original civilizations, civilizations that were the cradle of all humankind. Fully understanding and internalizing this truth is crucial for maintaining our peace, as it equips us with the power to guard against discord. Fully understanding and embracing this truth is vital for fostering inner peace, a state I consider crucial for my well-being. When I talk about protecting my peace, it means maintaining self-assuredness in my identity, values, and worth. It means not allowing external opinions to shake my self-perception, because I am confident in who I am. I am the beginning and the end because I have always been. Our legacy predates any other, and it will persist indefinitely. We are both the beginning and the end—Alpha and Omega. Our existence and influence have always been there, and they will continue to shape the world.
Affirming ourselves and staying true to our identity is an ongoing process that requires constant reflection and action. It takes time to divest from images that dictate our appearance according to the ideals of beauty ingrained in whiteness. Focusing on our own beauty both inside and out is not only the way for us to embrace our real identities, but it’s also a way to pay homage to all of the women from our ancestral lineage who paved the way forward for us to exist today. We are not, and have never been, the archetypes and stereotypes that have misrepresented our true identity and undermined our self-perception.
I intentionally surround myself with images—whether they are in the artwork on my office walls, my clothing, or my jewelry—that reflect our inherent beauty and femininity. I want to reflect who my ancestral mothers wanted me to be and the amazing physical energy that radiates from within me, provided by them. By doing so, I honor who I am and who I will always be. I also model what I want for the women around me as a collective. Our beauty, energy, and femininity are collective forces that span time and space. That energy is unstoppable, if we believe in its power instead of the harmful and toxic falsehoods we have been spoon-fed that erode our mental health and emotional well-being by causing us anxiety and chipping away at our confidence and self-esteem. What we feed our minds matters. Filling our minds with positivity requires us to continually affirm and appreciate our innate beauty, perfection, and wonderful complexity. It means ignoring anything that doesn’t feed our truth. It means disavowing any story that doesn’t speak to who we really are.
Therefore, it is our responsibility to uphold our truth and reclaim our identity. We can’t rely on a society to provide something they never wanted us to be. Rather, they have actively worked to deprive us of our true nature and the power it holds, but that true power and energy are vibrating at such a high frequency that they can never be denied. We witness the impact of this inherent power around us every day. This visible proof starkly contrasts the harmful stereotypes imposed upon us, ideas that are in conflict with our reality and disturb our well-deserved peace. We can never find true peace by accepting an identity that does not align with our authentic selves. The truth is, we are not defined by any of the narratives ascribed to us by society. We are not and have never been “Angry Black Women,” “Strong Black Women,” “Jezebels,” “Sapphires,” or “Mammies.” We don’t ascribe to anything that forces us to compromise our divine femininity. We are, and always have been, queens in our own right. Our lineage starts and will last forever at the beginning of time.
journaling questions 
1.How does the concept of feminine divinity across the African diaspora resonate with your personal understanding and embodiment of Black womanhood?
2.In what ways have harmful stereotypes and archetypes about Black womanhood influenced your personal perception of your own femininity, and how can you work toward decolonizing these perceptions?
3.How can the practice of daily decolonization serve as a form of self-care and empowerment for you as a Black woman?
4.In what ways does the understanding and honoring of feminine divinity help challenge and counteract the oppressive narratives that have been crafted about Black womanhood?
5.How do you feel the portrayal of Black women in media and society impacts your personal identity and self-perception?
6.How can connecting with the concept of feminine divinity across the African diaspora help foster a sense of unity and collective identity among Black women?
7.How have you seen or experienced the harmful effects of negative stereotypes about Black womanhood in your own life, and what strategies have you employed to overcome or counteract them?
8.What tangible actions can you take to further decolonize your mind and remove any internalized negative perceptions about Black womanhood?
9.How do you incorporate the practice of decolonization into your daily routine, and how has this practice influenced your perspective on self-care as a Black woman?
10.How can a commitment to a long-term practice of decolonization and a deeper understanding of feminine divinity contribute to a holistic and healthy perspective of your identity as a Black woman?
affirmations 
1.I embrace and honor the divine femininity within me as a Black woman, knowing that it is a powerful force that connects me to my ancestral roots.
