Being a mother of a Black pre-teen is more than a notion. In wanting to validate the greatness within my daughter, and even in others, I have often said the phrase “Black Girl Magic.”
“Work your Black Girl Magic!”
“Sprinkle that Black Girl Magic, hunny!”
“Yessss! That Black Girl Magic is shining!”
In saying it to my daughter once, I began to think about what “magic” really is.
a : the use of means (such as charms or spells) believed to have supernatural power over natural forces
b : magic rites or incantations (spells)
This has bothered me for some time. I wrote a blog for my young Black girls – requesting her to shine her Black Girl Magic at all times.
But what am I really saying? What are we really saying when we say this to our youth and sisters?
Why do we consider the excellence in which we move and be, to be magical? As if there lies no merit in it being just who we are, the perfectly designed being that is purposed to be great? Since when did accomplishments be diminished to being magic? Something supernatural, occurring under a spell or charm?
Why is this considered a phrase of validation?
I recall some of my favorite movies, Disney movies of course, where magic was a central element. Aladdin and The Princess and the Frog. In both, the element of magic was used to alter reality. In Aladdin, the Genie gives supernatural gifts to Prince Aladdin to change his life; in The Princess and the Frog, the Shadow Man uses magic to alter reality in the most dark ways.
But we congratulate our girls by telling them they are Black Girl Magic?
I became furious! Maybe unwarranted, yet there were continuous thoughts of contradictions and confusion that followed.
Why can’t we just be great? Why we gotta always be magical?
Why are we so bent on being celebrated in the most interesting ways, that we forget that we are just being who we are designed to be? Would we really say, White Girl Magic? Or do we see a separate standard for ourselves that we must continuously paint a picture of make-believe for our youth?
Why must be supernatural when we exhibit what it looks like to operate in our individual gifts?
Anita Baker said it best,
The story ends, as stories do
Reality steps into view
No longer living life in paradise-or fairy tales
We are not in a fairy tale, (are there black fairy tales?) but in the reality that, in America, we have gassed up our black girls and boys by equating the actuality of their limitless potential and abilities with magic.
From now on, I think I’ll just say,
“You go girl!”