“If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” James Baldwin

     “The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black woman.” Malcolm X

       In 2005, Calvin and I went to our first child’s ultrasound. I remember the dizzying mix of anxiousness and excitement when the the wand passed over my gel-covered baby bump and we watched for the images to materialize on-screen. It was easy to spot a spine, fingers, toes and a steady heartbeat, but the gender was harder to find as the legs were crossed.

Nearly 15 minutes, and a walk down the hallway later, the baby finally changed position and revealed that we were having a girl. The families were thrilled, Darius was happy to learn a sister was on the way, and I resolved to do whatever it took, with what whatever I had, to not only love and cherish our future daughter, but to protect her and prepare her for a world and community that wouldn’t always treat her with the respect she deserved. As a Black girl and future Black woman, her untested shoulders would soon bear the burdens of sexism and racism, and if that weren’t perilous enough, demands from males who resemble her that she ‘help a brotha out,’ even at her own expense.

That’s the dangerous dilemma being described by rapper and activist, Megan Thee Stallion, in her recent op-ed for The New York Times, “Why I Speak Up For Black Women.” At 25, she’s achieved enviable success with her fiery persona, empowering “hot girl” anthems and her number ones singles “Savage” and “WAP.” In July, the Houston, TX native garnered headlines for a more disturbing turn of events: becoming a victim of gun violence in Los Angeles. She has since accused Canadian rapper Tory Lanez of shooting her in the feet.

“I was recently the victim of an act of violence by a man.” Megan wrote in the Times column. “After a party, I was shot twice as I walked away from him. We were not in a relationship. Truthfully, I was shocked that I ended up in that place.” A recent article from Complex magazine shared a witness account of the terrifying event: “When she gets out of the car and says, ‘I’m just going to walk home,’ he pulls out a gun and says, ‘Dance, [expletive],’ and he starts shooting her.”

The months between her injuries and his recent charges of assault with a deadly weapon, demonstrated to Megan the truth in Malcolm’s words: sympathy may have poured in from fans, but some folks from the black community, as well as the entertainment industry, appeared to blame her for the attack. “My initial silence….was out of fear…..Even as a victim, I have been met with skepticism and judgment. The way people have publicly questioned and debated whether I played a role in my own violent assault proves that my fears about discussing what happened were, unfortunately, warranted.”

It’s nearly unfathomable how anyone, male or female, could read her initial traumatized silence as complicity, or demand Megan’s immediate compliance to law enforcement as her attacker degrading her in real time on social media. If the victim had been Taylor Swift, for example, domestic violence organizations would have rallied around her as feminists pontificated on her behalf to provide advocacy and support. Megan Thee Stallion endured the opposite: speculators demanding ‘the whole story’ and deriding her defensiveness as risking the freedom and career of a black man (‘man’ used loosely here) in exchange for sales and street clout (!!!). How could so many from the same targeted groups flip the script so harshly against a weaponless woman while sympathizing with a gun-wielding coward?

As I wish Megan a full recovery, I also hope that her injuries have taught detractors, especially Black men, that the oppressed can also become oppressors. Black women deserve better and our counterparts should learn that our love and loyalty shouldn’t require  us functioning as both shields and targets.