Black women are often taught to be strong—to endure pain, push through discomfort, and keep going no matter what. But what happens when that strength is expected, even in spaces meant to provide care?

Despite ongoing advancements in medicine, Black women in the United States continue to face higher rates of hypertension, breast cancer at younger ages, diabetes, stroke, and lupus, according to Boston University’s Black Women’s Health Study. An inequality report by Hertility Health adds that Black women are four times more likely to die during pregnancy and 43% more likely to miscarry than white women.

These aren’t just numbers—they reflect real lives and real outcomes. And they point to a deeper issue: Black women are being disproportionately impacted by some of the most serious health challenges. So what is it that continues to drive these patterns?

For many Black women, the answer starts with what happens the moment we walk into a doctor’s office. Similar to what happens in many other spaces, our concerns are ignored, dismissed, or not taken seriously. In fact, a study by the Pew Research Center found that 71% of Black women ages 18 to 49 report having at least one negative interaction with a healthcare provider. As noted in an article by Quality Interactions, “women, particularly women of color, often face barriers to receiving an accurate diagnosis.”

And not only does this kind of implicit bias affect the quality of care, it shapes how safe Black women feel seeking care in the first place, fueling a growing sense of distrust in the very systems meant to protect our health.

Not to mention, we’re often expected to place our trust in a system that wasn’t built with Black women in mind. A 2021 article published by Harvard Business Review notes that clinical trials have historically centered white male participants. More recent data from CenterWatch Research Hub in 2025 shows that Black and Hispanic populations typically make up less than 10 percent of clinical trial participants—and those numbers include both men and women.

Beyond bias and underrepresentation, the reality of being a Black woman in America is just… hard. We are constantly critiqued, dehumanized, and invalidated. Even outside the doctor’s office, the weight of these repeated stressors doesn’t simply disappear—it lingers, affecting both mind and body. Over time, this chronic exposure contributes to what researchers call the weathering effect, a process in which long-term stress gradually wears down the body and increases the risk of serious health conditions.

These disparities didn’t appear overnight, and they won’t be solved overnight either. They are deeply rooted in history and society, and Black women have been navigating them for generations. Still, we must continue to shine a light on these inequities, amplify Black women’s voices, and push for systemic change. The work is ongoing, and every effort matters in challenging patterns that have persisted far too long.

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The three countries that voted against the resolution were the United States, Israel, and Argentina.

Recognition, Not Repair

The resolution calls for reparatory justice measures, including formal apologies, financial compensation, the return of cultural artifacts, and institutional reforms. It also encourages continued global dialogue on accountability for the lasting impacts of slavery. However, the measure is non-binding, meaning it does not create enforceable legal obligations for countries to provide reparations.

What this means, then, is not immediate change, but formal recognition. For those living in the aftermath of this history, particularly across the African diaspora, the resolution establishes a global acknowledgment of harm that has long shaped present-day realities.

It does not close gaps or repair systems on its own, but it does name the foundation those gaps were built on.

Ghana at the Center

Ghana’s role in this resolution is not incidental. As the country that initiated and led the measure, it placed an African nation at the center of a global conversation about a history that disproportionately impacted the continent and its diaspora.

In recent years, Ghana has positioned itself as a key voice in discussions around the legacy of the transatlantic slave trade, including calls for reparatory justice and initiatives aimed at reconnecting with the diaspora.

In 2019, the government launched the “Year of Return,” marking 400 years since the first recorded enslaved Africans arrived in the Americas and inviting descendants of the transatlantic slave trade to return to the continent. While the initiative did not automatically grant citizenship, Ghana has since extended citizenship to select members of the diaspora through formal processes.

That initiative was followed by “Beyond the Return,” a 10-year program focused on strengthening long-term relationships between Ghana and the African diaspora through cultural exchange, investment, and relocation pathways.

Ghana has also taken steps to grant citizenship to members of the diaspora, positioning itself as a point of reconnection for those seeking to reestablish ties disrupted by slavery.

What Comes Next

What happens next remains open. The resolution does not mandate action, but it does shift the terms of the conversation—what is formally recognized, what can be contested, and what is now documented at a global level. In that sense, the vote is less an endpoint and more a marker of where accountability begins to take clearer shape.

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