I remember a time when I was a few years younger, but still grown, and I traveled to Boston to see a guy. I didn’t tell anyone—not out of shame, but because I wanted to avoid judgment.

Of course, my family found out—extended family too—and their worry, while it seemed as if it was coming from a place of protection, was… eye-opening. I realized in that moment that what I experienced was a form of racial profiling.

Because I am a Black woman, they assumed the worst. They assumed I was seeing a “no good” guy, that I must be up to something, and many other things that simply weren’t true. And here’s the reality: the guy wasn’t no good. He just wasn’t my type—that’s it.

This experience highlights a subtle but pervasive issue: even when concern is well-meaning, it can carry stereotypes and negative assumptions based solely on race and gender. Black women are often expected to face danger or make poor choices in ways that others aren’t. Our autonomy is questioned not because of what we actually do, but because of societal narratives about who we are.

It’s not about shame or guilt—it’s about recognition. Recognizing these patterns allows us to separate genuine care from bias, and it reminds us that our choices are ours alone, not dictated by stereotypes.

So the next time someone questions your decisions “for your own good,” pause and reflect: is this concern about the situation—or about assumptions made about you before the facts even exist?