Last Saturday, inside Garrett Morgan School of Leadership and Innovation groups of Black girls and women congregated at small tables, with markers and large pieces of paper.
This was a Cleveland Commission on Black Women and Girls Listening Session – where members of the community gathered to share their experiences with the aim of improving Black women and girls’ quality of life.
The commission was formed after a report in 2020 found Cleveland to be the least livable city in the country for Black women.
As a reporter covering health in Northeast Ohio, I’ve talked to a number of experts about how Black women face disproportionate health impacts, such as higher rates of stress and being more likely to die in childbirth than their white counterparts.
But I was interested in hearing more firsthand experiences of Cleveland women.
I arrived planning to sit somewhere in the back and just listen. But it turned out the commission members wanted us all to sit in a circle at tables and talk.
I felt a little awkward. I was the only white person in the room, and it was clear the topics we’d be discussing were outside my worldview.
I shifted in my seat, feeling as though there was a spotlight on me, because it was clear I didn’t fit in. But as I was managing my feeling of discomfort, I overheard a woman mention how isolated she feels in predominantly white spaces. It dawned on me that, something like I was feeling right then, could be a common experience for some women in this room.
As my group chatted more, some of my anxiousness slipped away. It was nice to just sit with a group of friendly strangers and get to know them for a few minutes.
As we talked, I learned about two different nonprofits women in this group run to help young people in the community. One woman has an afterschool program focused on empowering Black girls. Another woman in the group would clean students’ laundry for them.
But even as these women uplifted their communities, they faced challenges, too.
For example, one woman described being brushed up against at work as she passed a colleague in an office hallway. The man didn’t acknowledge that they had accidently made contact, which made her feel invisible.
That story sparked another woman who said someone at her workplace wouldn’t make eye contact with her but did with their white colleagues.
That reminded another woman in the group of her experience seeing an idea she pitched get used by another colleague who acted as if it was his own. Several people at the table nodded their heads, in knowing agreement.
But it wasn’t a feeling of pity that the women at my table shared. Everyone was so motivated to take action about what needs to be done to ensure Black women are seen, heard and valued.
The commission member leading our group distilled some of these experiences and ideas on the paper and shared them with the broader group.
The Cleveland Commission on Black Women and Girls will be holding more listening sessions in the future. Their goal is to take the observations and use them to shape programs and policies to improve Black women’s quality of life here.
To me, it seemed like a meaningful starting point.
I plan to connect with some of the women I met there. But even if they don’t end up featured in one of the stories I report, their willingness to open up and share about their experiences has helped shape my understanding a little better.
As I listened then, and as I reflect now, I feel a deep sense of gratitude.
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