We Cannot Keep Calling Survival Leadership
- Latrice Torres

- May 4
- 4 min read
There is a kind of exhaustion that does not look like falling apart.
It looks like answering the email. Running the meeting. Being the steady one. Fixing what someone else should have planned for. Smiling when your whole entire spirit is tired. Holding the team together while quietly wondering who is holding you.
For many Black women leaders, burnout is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is functional. You're highly productive with a polished calendar, a strong reputation, and everyone saying, “I don’t know how you do it.”
And that is exactly the problem.
Too many Black women have been rewarded for doing what should never have been required of us in the first place. We have been praised for endurance, celebrated for resilience, and promoted for our ability to carry impossible loads with "grace".
But endurance is not the same as wellness. Resilience is not the same as rest. Being needed is not the same as being supported.
During Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to say something plainly:
We cannot keep calling survival leadership.

The Hidden Weight Black Women Leaders Carry
Leadership already comes with pressure. But Black women leaders often carry additional layers that are not always named, measured, or supported.
We are often expected to be competent but not threatening. Direct but not “too aggressive.” Warm but not overly familiar. Available but not visibly overwhelmed. Strong but never in need.
We are asked to navigate workplace politics, racial dynamics, gender bias, caregiving responsibilities, community expectations, and personal pain - literally all the things - while still showing up as excellent.
And when we do show signs of exhaustion, the response is often too small for the size of what we are carrying.
“Take a day off.”
“Do some self-care.”
“Try to unplug.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Those things may be well-intentioned, but they are not enough.
Because a day off does not fix a life that has no room for recovery. A bubble bath does not undo chronic emotional labor. A vacation cannot heal the damage of being unsupported...for years.
Burnout Is Not a Personal Failure
One of the most harmful myths about burnout is that it means you did something wrong.
You did not manage your time well enough. You did not set enough boundaries. You did not meditate enough. You cared too much. You let people take too much from you.
But burnout is not only an individual issue. It is often a signal that something around you is unsustainable. Perhaps it is an unsustainable workload, or an unsupportive workplace, or an emotionally unsafe relationship.
Sometimes it is even bigger and by our own design, like a community that takes but does not replenish, or a leadership identity built around being endlessly available.
Yes, personal boundaries matter. But we also have to be honest about the systems, relationships, and expectations that punish Black women when we finally decide to honor our limits.
Early Notice
Too often, we wait until someone is in crisis before we take their pain seriously.
We wait until the breakdown. The resignation, hospitalization, disappearance, or at its worst, the tragedy.
But there are usually signs before the crisis.
She stops responding like herself or becomes suddenly quiet. She keeps saying, “I’m just tired.” She jokes about being overwhelmed, but the joke has no joy in it. She's producing at a high level but looks emotionally absent. She is the person who is always helping others but never lets anyone get close enough to help her.
Perhaps we can become more skilled at noticing, then be brave enough to act. Not to pry or fix. Not to judge. But to stay close.
Self-Care Cannot Be Another Performance

For Black women leaders, even self-care can become something else to manage.
The perfect morning routine. The journal. The green juice. The therapy appointment squeezed between meetings. The Sunday reset that still somehow feels like work.
There is nothing wrong with rituals that help us care for ourselves. But self-care was never meant to become another standard we feel guilty for not meeting.
Sometimes self-care is not beautiful.
Sometimes it is cancelling the thing you said yes to out of obligation. Sometimes it is telling the truth in therapy. Sometimes it is admitting, “I am not okay.” Sometimes it is asking someone to sit with you. Sometimes it is not answering the phone. Sometimes it is leaving the room, the job, the relationship, or the version of yourself that only knew how to survive.
Real self-care is not about aesthetics. It is about preservation.
You are not weak because you are tired.
You are not ungrateful because you need support.
You are not difficult because you have limits.
You are not failing because you cannot keep performing strength at the expense of your spirit.
You are fully human. Your wellness matters before there is an emergency.
Not after the work is done. Not after everyone else is okay. Not after the next promotion, launch, event, family obligation, or crisis.
Now.

A Call to Action for This Week
This week, I invite you to do three things:
First, tell the truth to yourself. Not the polished truth. The real one. Ask: What am I carrying that is costing me too much?
Second, tell one safe person a fuller version of how you are doing. Not “I’m good.” Not “busy.” Not “hanging in there.” Tell the truth.
Third, check on a Black woman in your life who always seems strong. Do not just say, “Let me know if you need anything.” Try: “I’ve noticed you’ve been carrying a lot. I don’t need you to perform okay with me. How are you really?”
We need us well, rested, and supported. We need us alive.
And that means we have to stop confusing survival with success.
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