During a recent Halloween parade in Mount Pleasant, a borough about 30 miles southwest of Pittsburgh, a float caricatured Vice President Kamala Harris walking in chains behind a golf cart adorned with American flags and Trump campaign signs. This portrayal shocked many, but not me.

As a Black woman, I recognize that such moments aren’t anomalies; they are part of our everyday reality.

Disrespect and objectification

The image of a prominent Black woman shackled and pulled by a cart of white men reflects a broader narrative of disrespect and objectification that transcends any single event or election cycle. It highlights the ongoing struggle of existing as a Black woman in a society that often questions our humanity.

While many of us push forward despite this challenge, the emotional and psychological toll can be overwhelming. It’s no wonder so many of us are exhausted — there is rarely a moment to rest or recuperate.

In the aftermath of significant political events, like Barack Obama’s election in 2008, we witnessed not only a moment of triumph but an intensification of racial hostility, particularly directed at Black women.

Michelle Obama became a prime target of vile stereotypes, with comments like Pamela Ramsey Taylor’s infamous comparison of her to an “ape in heels” and Bobbie Lussier’s assertion that it was “about time we get a first lady in there that acts like a first lady and looks like a First Lady.”

Throughout Obama’s presidency, many of us witnessed Michelle stand trial in the public eye, facing a barrage of derogatory insults and dehumanizing critiques just because she existed.

The normalization of antiblack rhetoric continued through Trump’s presidency and into subsequent presidential campaigns. Despite claims of being “the least racist person,” Trump consistently uses racist ideology as a campaign strategy.

During a rally at Madison Square Garden, he platformed speakers who mocked Harris, belittling her intelligence and likening her to a prostitute with “pimp handlers.” Their remarks echo the Jezebel stereotype, revealing the systemic misogynoir entrenched in our political discourse.

Rest is resistance

In the face of such adversity, many Black women still stand at the forefront of social justice movements. We advocate tirelessly for change, while being met with dismissiveness.

We are consistently expected to be resilient, strong, and creative problem solvers even in the face of unrelenting dehumanization. We are tasked with becoming the canaries in the sociopolitical coal mine, alerting people to impending danger.

Yet many forget that canaries often showed signs of distress or died before anyone took heed of the warnings. While Black women try to illuminate critical issues affecting our world, we often risk our own well-being in the process.

As many return to their routines post-election, the systemic issues perpetuating inequality won’t simply vanish. The racist portrayal of the vice president shows just how enduring the legacies of enslavement, antiblackness, and misogynoir are in this country.

Sadly, the emotional and physical exhaustion that accompanies our fight for justice can lead to burnout and health crises — consequences often overlooked by those who demand our continuous strength.

This is why it’s so important for Black women to prioritize self-care and allow ourselves space to rest. In a society that asks us to be everything and nothing, reclaiming our time is an act of revolution. Rest is resistance, a strategy for survival. Without it, the very fight for justice becomes unsustainable.

When we rest, we come back stronger, ready to confront the ongoing battle against the physical and metaphorical chains of misogynoir. When we take time to care for ourselves, we have more power to rise up and demand better tomorrows. When we take time to step back, we preserve our hearts, our minds, our bodies, our futures.

In navigating the aftermath of this election — whoever wins — as with many before it, we must remember that the struggle for equity is far from over. In this long fight, rest is a source of our power—a necessary element of our ongoing struggle for justice.

We must give ourselves permission to release the weight of injustice from our backs and uplift those of us who choose silence or isolation as self-care.

A way to continue fighting

While it may seem a privilege to prioritize self in dark times, the future of so many movements depends on our well-being.

Embracing rest can fortify our capacity to engage in the struggle ahead. So, taking time to care for ourselves is a strategic choice, a way to continue the fight for equity and justice… if that’s what we want to do.

The fight for justice is long, and there will always be those who wish to chain, silence and dehumanize us. But our choice to be the canaries who sing songs of awareness to warn the masses doesn’t mean we have to suffer or die.

Stephanie R. Toliver is an assistant professor of Curriculum & Instruction at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign and a public voices fellow with the OpEd Project. This article was originally posted in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.