25 Things Black Women Really Want for Christmas
“We hold the world together. This season, may something finally hold us.”
Dear Sis,
Last week, I shared what every mom really wants for Christmas. But I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge all my identities by not sharing what Black women want too.
Here’s the thing, for a lot of Black women, we don’t step into the holiday season from a place of ease. Some of us step into it carrying the weight of a year that has stretched us thin and demanded too much, all while continuing to ask for more. And while the world experiences all of the magic this season brings, Black women’s magic is built on labor. The kind we’ve learned. The kind we’ve inherited. The kind we’ve perfected. And if we’re really being honest? The kind that no one acknowledges or thanks us for.
Black women hold traditions, make holidays feel like home, wrap everyone in prayer, and are the glue that holds everything together, even as we are falling apart. On top of the emotional, cultural, generational, professional, spiritual, and invisible labor we carry.
And this year, 2025, has been especially heavy, cruel, and revealing. We have witnessed hundreds of thousands of Black women leaving the workforce due to mass layoffs, being pushed out, and removed from roles they have exceeded expectations in. We’ve watched departments dissolve, DEI initiatives evaporate, and companies strip away seats that we had to fight twice as hard to earn. And though it all, we are still expected to bounce back, survive, pray, push through, and somehow continue to take care of everyone else.
So when someone casually asks, “What do you want for Christmas,” the answer is rooted in relief, rest, dignity, protection, softness, and support that doesn’t require suffering. What we truly want isn’t something found in a gift guide, stocking, or can be scanned at a checkout counter.
Black women deserve more than survival, endurance, and strength that we never asked for. And this year, I’m naming it. Fully and unapologetically.
So, here are 25 things Black women really want for Christmas.
A break from carrying the whole damn community. While we are strong, we were not built to be everybody’s foundation. And it would be nice to have someone else do the heavy lifting.
To not be the family’s emergency contact for everything. Because every crisis should not require our intervention.
To not be told how strong we are. It’s not a compliment and it’s not flattering. We’re exhausted and we’re struggling too.
To not be pitted against one another. Because abundance belongs to us all, and there’s enough room for every Black woman to expand.
To not be the diversity representative. I hate to break it to you, but we are not the spokesperson for all Black people.
For our hair to not be a conversation piece. Don’t touch it. Don’t comment on it. And please, don’t question it.
Medical care that actually listens to us. Not dismisses our pain. Not minimizes our symptoms. Or questions our intuition. But takes our health and our lives seriously.
A world that doesn’t question our brilliance. Not surprised by it. Not intimidated by it. Not threatened by it. Just respects it.
A time where the “angry Black women” stereotype never existed. Because our emotions have range and we deserve to freely experience all of them.
To not be punished for our ambition. We should be able to dream big without being told to “slow down” or “stay humble.”
To be paid our worth… plus tax. And with interest included.
A seat at the table that we don’t have to build ourselves. Or work twice as hard for.
People who don’t mistake our silence for agreement. Sometimes silence is survival. Sometimes silence is wisdom. And sometimes silence is restraint.
Luxury that doesn’t require a side-eye. We want nice things simply because we want them. And you know what, we deserve nice things too.
For someone to finally center us without hesitation. Not after everyone else has been taken care of. Not after the emergencies settle. But now. Right now.
Joy without the fear of it being taken away. Because we deserve joy we can trust. And Joy that stays.
To rest without being asked for productivity afterward. Rest is rest. Not a reset to work harder.
The ability to take up space without shrinking. Black women deserve to show up with their full voices, full presence, and full selves.
To be seen without being surveilled. Observed, not policed. Noticed, not scrutinized. And visible, not vulnerable to harm.
Permission to choose ourselves. Because we need us too.
To be believed the first time. No second-guessing. No doubting our experience. No needing to “prove” what we already know.
A world where our tears aren’t used against us.Crying is not weakness. And it certainly isn’t permission to mistreat us.
For our daughters to inherit fewer battles and more peace. No more passing down survival skills. We want to pass down softness, grace, and ease.
A break from racial fatigue. The constant monitoring, managing, adjusting, calculating, we just want to be free from it.
To not be viewed as a threat. Just because we’re confident, direct, and ourselves does not mean we are dangerous, have an attitude, or are aggressive.
And here’s one more: To feel held and protected, emotionally, physically, and spiritually, without having to ask. Real protection. Not the “you’re strong, you got it” kind, but the “I refuse to let anything harm you” kind. No hesitation. No conditions. No explanations needed.
My love, if no one has told you this, you are allowed to want rest, softness, protection, and joy. And one better, you deserve it.
This Christmas, I hope that when someone asks for what you need, they mean it. That you receive support without having to ask or perform strength for it. That you feel seen, valued, honored, celebrated, and held. And if nobody gives you anything on this list, I hope you give yourself the gift of choosing you.
Out of love, and not survival.
With love,
Racquel