The Weight We Carry: Black Motherhood, Breastfeeding, and Breaking the Chains of Shame

Talaya Murphy
Aug 25
3 min read

Black Breastfeeding Week Matters

Black Breastfeeding Week exists because our community’s relationship with breastfeeding is shaped by history, trauma, and systemic barriers. From the time enslaved women were forced to wet-nurse for others while being denied the chance to feed their own babies, to today’s lack of representation, resources, and support — our stories are complex, and too often ignored.

We need spaces where we can speak openly about our experiences — the pride, the pain, and the pushback — without fear of judgment. We need to see ourselves in the images, hear ourselves in the narratives, and know that we belong in the conversation.

To every Black mother feeding her baby — whether at home, in public, or with a pump sitting in the passenger seat — you are powerful. You are nurturing life in a world that too often forgets to nurture you back.

You don’t owe anyone perfection. You don’t owe anyone discretion. You owe your child nourishment, and you owe yourself grace. The shame doesn’t belong to you — it belongs to the society that tries to silence us.

The Perfection Pedestal

As Black women, we’re often raised to overachieve, to excel, to never let anyone see us sweat. Eldest daughters know this best — the unspoken job of holding everything together, setting the example, making the family proud. That role breeds both resilience and burnout.

When I became a mother, I thought I had to breastfeed “perfectly” too — latch on the first try, produce plenty of milk, make it all look effortless. But breastfeeding isn’t about perfection. It’s about connection. It’s about the deeply human experience of nourishing your child.

Still, the pressure lingered — the pressure to be a polished, picture-perfect version of motherhood that didn’t exist.

The Stigma That Won’t Die

I’ll never forget hearing a woman say, “Breastfeeding is nasty.” Those words stuck with me. How could something so natural, so necessary, be seen as inappropriate?

The truth is, society sexualizes everything about women’s bodies. When we reclaim them for their intended purpose — to nourish, to nurture — we’re told it’s wrong. The same culture that splashes half-naked women across billboards will shame a mother for feeding her baby.

And don’t get me started on public breastfeeding. Pumping on the go makes you hyper-aware of every side-eye and whisper. People tell you to “cover up,” or worse, to take it to the bathroom. But here’s my question: when you sit down to eat, does anyone ask you to balance your plate on the back of a toilet?

Of course not. It’s absurd. Yet somehow, that’s considered acceptable for mothers.

Motherhood has been my greatest teacher in unlearning perfection. I’m still taking it one day at a time, reminding myself that I don’t have to meet anyone’s impossible standards — not society’s, not my family’s, not the ones I placed on myself. Breastfeeding, whether in the quiet of my home or in public under judgmental eyes, has taught me that nurturing my child is never something to be hidden or shamed.

To my fellow mothers — especially my Black mothers carrying generations of weight on your shoulders — know this: your worth is not measured by perfection. Pour love and care into your child, and don’t forget to give that same nurturing to yourself — because our inner child still needs it, too.