"She Made Me Twice as Strong": How Black Single Mothers Shape Their Daughters' Identities and Ambitions

The story we are told is that Black single mothers fail their children, creating a cycle of struggle and poverty; however, this story is false. Black women’s labor—whether in the home, fields, or workplace—has been the backbone of survival and progress. To be raised by a single Black mother, then, is not to inherit lack; it is to inherit a legacy of resilience and unrelenting drive. 

Nearly half of Black mothers are raising their children alone. Black single motherhood is burdened by stereotypes such as the “welfare queen” and “baby mama.” On the surface, Black single mothers are labeled as socially irresponsible and continuing the cycles of poverty.

 In reality, Black single mothers are the reason this world spins on its axis correctly. They are the backbone of American society. They take words like 'perseverance' and 'grit' to another planet of meaning. Their independence not only guarantees their own survival but also that of their children, communities, and surrounding neighborhoods. 

For many Black women,  Black single mothers have long carried dual roles as workers and caretakers, not simply out of individual obligation but as a response to systemic forces that have historically incentivised the absence of men in the home. Black mothers do this all while instilling in their daughters an unshakeable drive to excel. 

At Spelman, where so many of us are living proof of their sacrifices, the question is not whether Black single mothers pass down failure, but how their legacies of ambition, survival and leadership continue to shape the identities of their daughters.

Anthropology and Sociology Department Chair Dr. Erica Williams noted that Black mothers are rarely “solo mothers”. Children are often raised with the support of a village, creating intergenerational networks of care. 

These efforts, however, have been historically maligned. The trope of the “angry Black woman,” rooted in the matriarch and mammy caricatures, has sought to control Black women’s actions and reinforce comparisons to white women, stereotyping Black women as unfeminine and undesirable as marital partners. As Williams’ reflections and historical scholarship revealed, Black women’s resilience is not only personal but also political and communal, sustaining families and communities against structural odds while navigating societal narratives designed to diminish their labor and humanity.  

Leah Thompson, a junior at Spelman College, reflected on her mother’s experience raising four children under one roof. With Thompson’s sister’s  father being murdered in prison and not offered governmental support, her mother had to be “four times as good,” constantly juggling the needs of each child, often at the expense of her own well-being. Thompson recalled watching her mother navigate these pressures, witnessing firsthand the burnout and sacrifices that accompanied her resilience. 

“While I saw my mom’s strength every day, I also saw the toll it took,” Thompson said. “Resilience became expected, like Black women have to endure everything without a break in order to be considered strong or worthy.” 

The cycle of strength that Black mothers exemplify is powerful but comes at a cost for themselves and their daughters.

 Nyla Slye, a D.C. native and junior political science major at Spelman College, reflected on how being the firstborn daughter meant going through all the “ups and downs” alongside her mother, taking on responsibilities that forced her to mature faster and work twice as hard as her peers.

“From the outside looking in, people say that Black women have this sense of resilience, but that’s sometimes offensive,” Slye said. “They’ll tell you, ‘you're so strong,’ but you shouldn’t have to be. Black mothers shouldn’t have to be so resilient; they define what it means to be strong, not what it means to struggle consistently. And as the firstborn daughter, you go through everything with your mother. You grow up twice as fast. You don’t really get a childhood.” 

Slye’s sentiments echoed those of Dr. Williams previously, focusing on the adultification of the daughters of Black single mothers, causing their daughters to carry responsibilities far beyond their capacity. The enduring strength that Black single mothers and their daughters carry is undeniable, but it should never have been required in the first place. Their labor has not only sustained their families but also entire communities and, in many ways, the nation itself. 

 To inherit resilience is not only to inherit power, but also the heavy weight of survival that society should have shared, not left for Black mothers and their daughters to carry alone. 

At Spelman, many of us stand as living proof of the sacrifices our mothers made. Each internship, exam and leadership role reflects not only our ambition but also the unfulfilled dreams and enduring sacrifices of the women who raised us. For Spelmanites such as Slye and Thompson, their drive to excel is inseparable from the legacy of resilience passed down from their mothers. At Spelman, we carry  the legacy of strength and the responsibility to redefine tenacity as cultivating strength, balance and gentleness. 

There’s no doubt about it: I got myself to Spelman. I did the work, but my mother made the sacrifices. Black single mothers are not evidence of failure; they are architects of possibility. As their daughters, we are not just their legacy; we are their victory.