Many high-achieving Black women struggle to rest without guilt—trapped in the cycle of over-functioning, people-pleasing, and perfectionism. In this trauma-informed blog, Yemaya Wellness Center explores how the Superwoman Schema impacts mental health and why rest, self-trust, and nervous system regulation are essential acts of resistance and healing. Includes somatic tools, journal prompts, and affirmations to help you reclaim your rhythm….on your own terms.

Teletherapy offers flexibility, privacy, and comfort; but it works best when approached with intention. Whether you're new to virtual sessions or want to deepen your experience, this guide breaks down the benefits of telehealth, how to prepare, and what to know before logging into Zoom.

Discover the rich history and spiritual significance of cowrie shells—once used as currency, now a symbol of protection, prosperity, and divine feminine energy. Learn how they connect to African heritage, spirituality, and modern empowerment.

Black women have been carrying relationships on our backs for generations, mistaking struggle for intimacy and emotional labor for love. We’ve been taught that being needed is the same as being cherished. That bending until we damn near break is just part of the deal. And when we finally hit our breaking point, we still hear, “But you’re so strong.”

Let me tell you something: Strong women deserve soft love, too.

The expectation to be strong, self-sacrificing, and ever-capable is so deeply ingrained that slowing down feels like failure. This phenomenon is known as the Superwoman Schema, a term coined by Dr. Cheryl Woods-Giscombe to describe the unique pressures that Black women face in navigating strength, independence, and emotional suppression (Woods-Giscombe, 2010).

Black women’s bodies have never belonged solely to us—not in the eyes of society. From the enslavement era, where our bodies were commodified, to today’s workplace politics, where we are scrutinized for existing in our natural fullness, we have constantly fought for agency over our own movement.

When we twerk—on our own terms—we reclaim that agency.

In the intricate tapestry of Black culture, dance has always been a profound thread, weaving stories of joy, resilience, and resistance. Among these movements, twerking—a dance characterized by rhythmic hip gyrations—has emerged as both a cultural phenomenon and a potent form of healing for Black women.