The Truth About Being An Introverted Black Girl
Being a shy, quiet Black girl is not for the weak! I’m here to tell my stories and debunk misconceptions.
I’ve always been socially awkward and introverted, finding peace in solitude and silence. However, my quiet nature and impassive facial expressions often drew negative attention. Growing up, I constantly got hit with questions like, “Why are you so quiet?” and “Do you ever talk?” While these questions seem harmless, let me be the one to say they’re very annoying!
Being constantly questioned and singled out made me wonder—what’s wrong with being reserved? Was it me, or was everyone else just weird? Eventually, I realized society doesn’t expect Black women to be quiet or soft-spoken. Movies and television shows often portray us as loud, funny, or aggressive, leading some to believe we all fit that stereotype.
Stereotypes about Black women are nothing new, but they heavily influence how others view and treat us. From my experiences, I’ve identified four common misconceptions about us introverted Black girls (who happen to have a resting bitch face).
4 Misconceptions About Introverted Black Girls:
We’re angry?
Some people assume that us introverts are angry because we appear to be suppressing our emotions. (Spoiler: We’re not.)
Take me, for example. While majoring in elementary education, I completed 40 hours of classroom observations and volunteered as a teacher’s assistant for a week. During recess one day, a school security guard yelled, “Smile, Kayla, it’s not that bad!” I wasn’t surprised—I’ve heard that before. Moments like this just remind me of how often people police Black women’s demeanor when we don’t meet their expectations.
Here’s the thing: I know I have a resting bitch face, but being told to smile doesn’t move me. I can be happy as fuck, even if my face doesn’t show it (sorry, not sorry).
2. Something is wrong with us?
Despite what some may think, there’s nothing wrong with introverts keeping to themselves. I mean, it’s not my fault I feel drained after socializing and need alone time to recharge. TBH, sometimes I just prefer not to waste my energy on small talk.
I once had an awkward interaction with a guest speaker in one of my communication classes. He was there to share advice about working in the media industry. After class, I stayed behind, waiting for my ride, while some students stayed to network with him.
Now mind you, during the Q&A, I didn’t ask any questions because I wasn’t interested in pursuing a career in his field of work. When he realized I was still there, he said, “I noticed you didn’t say much. Are you okay?” I was taken aback by his comment and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then one of my classmates added, “Kayla’s just chill,” but the speaker responded, “I was just making sure because she was real quiet.” I appreciated the concern, but being quiet doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me—it just means I’m not about to fake interest or force conversation. Sometimes, silence is just that: silence.
3. We’re antisocial?
Throughout my life, I’ve been labeled antisocial, but that’s not accurate. Many people (who are not mental health professionals) misuse the term. Being antisocial is a mental health condition involving violent behavior and a blatant disregard for others' well-being.
I consider myself selectively social and observant. I’m not going to show my talkative, goofy side to people who make me feel uncomfortable.
This misunderstanding has led to negative performance reviews in my job experiences. Employers often described me as “disengaged” or suggested I needed to “step outside my comfort zone” to fit in. My work ethic was never an issue, but my limited socializing was.
4. We’re less intelligent?
Don’t let my quietness fool you; I’m smart as hell. I’ve heard of people believing quiet people are smart, in fact Forbes reports, an introvert's preference for solitude and concentration may cause people to link quietness with intelligence. However, in my experience as an introvert, people have downplayed my intelligence.
For example, during my Elementary Education program, a White professor spoke to me in a condescending tone. I once asked for help finding a website for math teaching strategies, and she responded, “Have you ever taken a math instruction class before?” I told her I had, but we never used that specific site. She then stood over me and said, “Oh, I can tell.”
When I stayed silent, she ignored me, but the moment I spoke up, she implied I was incompetent. For context, I was the only Black student in the class, and she never spoke to anyone else that way. My experience shows how introverted Black women can’t win—stay quiet, and we’re ignored; speak up, and we’re doubted.
Through these experiences, I’ve learned how to be more outgoing to navigate professional settings without drawing attention to my quietness. However, people outside the culture must understand that Black women are not monolithic. We are complex, multidimensional individuals with diverse personalities. Our silence isn’t a weakness; it’s a source of power.