PTSD Awareness Day
Scars You Can’t See: Black and Minoritised Women, PTSD, and the Cost of Being Believed
Beyond the Stereotype of Strength
There’s a certain story society likes to tell about Black and minoritised women — that they are unshakable, endlessly resilient, “strong no matter what.” But what happens when trauma challenges that story? What happens when strength is mistaken for immunity?
PTSD — Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — isn’t always dramatic. It isn’t always visible. For many women, it takes the shape of constant alertness, overwhelming exhaustion, and silent battles no one sees. And for Black and minoritised women who’ve experienced abuse, trauma often goes untreated, unspoken, and unacknowledged — because their pain is too frequently minimised or mistrusted.
At Anah Project, we meet women carrying trauma that’s been dismissed for years. Women who’ve kept going because they had to — not because they were healed.
Trauma Doesn’t Stop When the Abuse Does
The end of an abusive relationship doesn’t always bring peace. It can mark the start of another kind of struggle. A sudden sound, a particular smell, even a phrase once shouted in anger — all of it can bring the past back in an instant.
Some women tell us they’ve escaped, yet still don’t feel safe. They wonder why they’re anxious when everything is “fine.” But the truth is that trauma lingers. PTSD is not about weakness. It’s a survival mechanism — the body’s way of staying prepared for danger, even when that danger is no longer present.
What’s more painful is that so many Black and minoritised women are told they’re exaggerating, too sensitive, or “playing the victim.” This denial of trauma becomes another layer of harm.
When the System Can’t See You
For PTSD to be recognised and treated properly, systems have to understand it. But far too often, they don’t — especially when the person suffering doesn’t fit the expected mould. Black and minoritised women are regularly misdiagnosed or dismissed. Hypervigilance is labelled as paranoia. Numbness is seen as detachment. And when they do speak up, they’re often not believed.
We’ve heard stories of women turned away from services, or told they don’t “seem distressed enough.” We’ve seen how trauma-informed care becomes trauma-ignorant when race, gender, and cultural context are ignored. And the result? Too many women navigating PTSD alone.
Survival Isn’t the Same as Safety
Living in survival mode can become second nature. Many Black and minoritised women keep pushing forward — raising children, working jobs, managing households — while privately wrestling with triggers and fear. They become so used to surviving that they forget healing is even possible.
This isn’t sustainable. The emotional toll of long-term trauma is enormous. It seeps into relationships, into parenting, into physical health. Yet culturally, some women are discouraged from seeking mental health support. They’re told to pray more, toughen up, keep it within the family.
But trauma doesn’t stay quiet just because it’s silenced. It finds ways to speak — through anxiety, sleeplessness, burnout. And it deserves to be heard.
Healing on Your Own Terms
There is no “correct” way to heal. No timeline. No single method. For some, it’s therapy. For others, it’s safe space and steady support. What matters is that the approach respects the whole person — their culture, their history, their truth.
At Anah Project, we centre this understanding. We don’t ask women to prove their pain. We create the conditions where it’s safe to unpack it. Whether trauma happened years ago or just yesterday, the journey to healing starts with being seen.
A Story Still Being Written
PTSD does not define a woman’s life. It’s one chapter — painful, complex, and deeply real — but not the end of the story. With the right support, that story can continue with new language: one of choice, autonomy, and peace.
If you’ve lived through trauma and still carry its echoes, you are not alone. Your pain is not imaginary. And your healing does not have to be delayed.
There’s Power in Naming It
When Black and minoritised women speak openly about trauma, it challenges the silence that so often surrounds it. It pushes back against the idea that strength means suffering quietly. It creates room for others to say, “me too,” and to begin their own path forward.
The power is in naming what has happened — and reclaiming what comes next.
