Black Women and Movement: Reclaiming Our Bodies and Freedom

Growing up, I watched my mother move in ways that felt almost magical.

Most of the time, she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders — her brow furrowed with worry, her steps heavy with exhaustion. But on Saturday mornings, something changed.

As the sounds of Aretha Franklin, Gladys Knight, and Mahalia Jackson filled our home, she swayed, stepped, and spun with a joy that felt untouchable.

When she was dancing along to the music, bills didn’t exist, trauma was on pause, and she was simply free. I didn’t have the language for it then, but I see it clearly now: movement was her liberation.

And for Black women, movement has always been more than just exercise — it has been survival, resistance, and a way to reclaim our bodies.

For centuries, Black women have turned to movement as a form of self-preservation, resistance, and joy. Whether in the rhythmic stomp of ring shouts on plantations or the coordinated steps of protest marches, our bodies have always carried our stories.

Research supports this truth. Studies show that dance and embodied movement hold a deep cultural and emotional significance for Black women, serving as tools for resilience, connection, and healing.

The Burden of Stillness and Strength

From a young age, we learn to be still. Teachers tell us to sit quietly.
Employers expect us to remain composed.
Society warns us not to be too loud, too big, too much.

The world has trained us to shrink.

This control over Black movement has deep roots. During slavery, Black women’s bodies were policed —our labor demanded, our autonomy denied. Later, in Jim Crow America, segregation laws dictated where we could walk, stand, and even dance.

Today, that control continues in more insidious ways.

Black girls face harsher discipline in schools for “not sitting still.” Black women in professional spaces navigate expectations to appear calm, contained, and non-threatening.

At the same time, society expects us to be strong, hold everything together, carry the weight of our families, and never show exhaustion.

This expectation tells us to push through rather than process, to endure rather than express.

But what if we didn’t?

What if we moved without explanation, without justification, without purpose other than joy, as an act of rebellion.

This disrupts the systems that have taught us to control our bodies rather than listen to them.

It defies the idea that our worth is tied to what we endure and how small we can make ourselves.

Reclaiming Movement as Liberation

What would it look like if movement wasn’t about control, but about coming home to yourself?

Reclaiming movement starts with giving yourself permission to move in ways that feel good — not just when you’re doing the electric slide at a wedding, but every single day.

It can be as small as:

• Stretching in the morning and feeling the vitality in your body
• Rolling your shoulders after a long day and noticing where tension lingers
• Swaying while you cook, letting your body soften into the rhythm

Movement does not have to be structured or performative.

It does not have to be impressive.

It only has to be yours.

A Call to Move (For Yourself, Not for Others)

To the Black woman reading this: when was the last time you moved just for you?

Not to work out or perform.

But simply because your body was made to move?

If it feels safe, good, and right for you, try this:

And remember, movement has always belonged to us. It is our heritage, our resilience, our right.

It is time to Move and Be Free.