Is Sisterhood Really Possible?

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Recently, I was asked: "Courtney, do you think that sisterhood is really possible?” I did not rush to answer this question because I believe that this is what many would call a “loaded question,” and I believe that there are various answers. However, before we can get to the answers, we have to look at why this question is even a question.

We are living in a time where social media and reality television are extremely popular. We’ve watched episodes and even clips from issues spiraling on Real Housewives of Atlanta with best friends Shamea and Porsha. We also see another friendship face similar turmoil on Basketball Wives LA with Evelyn and Jennifer. I’ve seen countless concerning issues within women’s friendships where women are finding out about their friends or even sisters sleeping with their spouses, and women violently attacking one another. Have you heard about the young lady assaulted by her “friends” with acid because a man was attracted to her? I’ve seen women mock a statue in New York because she was “fat” and “not a good representation of women”. I’ve recently seen a TikTok where a woman was going to the gym and another woman secretly recorded her to say mean and unnecessary things about her. Fun fact: she attempted to do it in her close friends, and it still made it back to the young lady, and whoever told her is a real one. 

I can go on and on and actually let me take the time to do just that.

Muni Long recently took to social media to address her grievances with Black women. Before I go into more detail about what occurred, can we please pronounce Muni’s name correctly? It is pronounced “money”, and honestly, I’ve made the mistake of mispronouncing her name too, but she continues to correct us. Please call her by her name and not the name you think it is. Now let’s talk about it. Muni Long isn’t wrong for addressing Black women. She’s a Black woman herself, and naturally, her community is both her audience and her mirror. But that’s exactly what makes this moment so difficult to digest. When she spoke out about feeling attacked by Black women, the response wasn’t curiosity or compassion. It was an immediate condemnation. Yet in that condemnation, the response proved her point. Instead of being heard, she was punished for naming her pain.

Muni Long

Instead of reckoning with what was said, people focused on how it might look or how it was delivered. The truth is, Black people often get defensive when harm is addressed from within, especially in public. But where else can we have honest conversations if we’re not safe to do so in our own spaces and shared platforms?

Muni’s truth wasn’t betrayal, the response to it was. There’s an unwritten rule for Black women: we can speak up, but only if it doesn’t make anyone uncomfortable. We can express pain, but only if it’s not directed towards our community. And even then, it better be packaged nicely, respectfully, gently, and almost like an apology. Otherwise, we’re “attacking,” “complaining,” or “ungrateful”.

So, when people responded to Muni by saying, “but Black women support you,” they missed the nuance. Support doesn’t erase harm. Love doesn’t mean immunity. And just because she’s calling it out, doesn’t mean she’s calling all Black women her enemies. In fact, it takes more love to stay and speak than to stay silent.

I hope you all are ready for more because I am not done. 

When women like Cassie Ventura, Megan Thee Stallion, and Halle Bailey come forward with detailed, corroborated accounts of abuse often backed by legal action, medical records, or eyewitness testimony they're still met with disbelief. Not just from men, but from other women. That disbelief isn’t passive; it’s loud, public, and often cruel. Women calling them liars, defending their abusers, and continuing to support, date, or uplift the very men these survivors say harmed them.

This isn’t just about individual choices, it’s about a collective failure of sisterhood. 

Cassie

Cassie testified under oath about years of coercion, violence, and humiliation at the hands of Sean “Diddy” Combs. Her testimony was supported by multiple witnesses and other survivors, including former staff who described brutal beatings, threats and coercion, and psychological warfare. Yet, even with such detailed accounts, some women still question her motives or downplay her pain. Some even only focused on how horrible her husband must have felt to listen to her testify. 

Megan Thee Stallion

Megan Thee Stallion was shot and a jury found Tory Lanez guilty of committing this crime. She had medical records, eyewitnesses, and a conviction to back her up. Still, she’s been relentlessly harassed, gaslit, and accused of lying by men and women alike. Even now, years later, she’s forced to defend herself against conspiracy theories, character attacks, and people putting in over time to have her jailed and her abuser set free.

Halle Bailey

Halle Bailey, too, has taken legal steps to protect herself and her child from alleged abuse by her ex-partner, DDG. She filed for a restraining order, citing physical harm and emotional manipulation with all of the evidence to prove her experiences. Despite this, some women continue to support or excuse her abuser, questioning her claims and undermining her courage. Even making suggestions that she is doing this just to keep her son away from his father. 

What does this say about us when women who survive abuse and choose to speak out are met with skepticism and scorn from other women? Especially when the first instinct is to doubt them, to side with their abusers, or to remain silent?

One of Them Days

I’m still unpacking so I hope you are staying to unpack with me.

It’s one thing to witness the betrayal of women who are in the public and are typically the women we admire from afar. But I have my own stories of betrayal throughout my life, and that betrayal has come from those I’ve held extremely close. These have been women I’ve prayed for, cheered on, and women who once claimed to love me but turned around and mishandled me in the dark.

I’ve been lied on by women I trusted and dismissed by women I’ve gone to war for and even considered building relationships with. I’ve been called fake by women who have once shown me love, only to realize how fake that love was. I’ve been just like Jesus and Judas, betrayed by a hug, while experiencing subliminal posts being made about me. I’ve had women stand by silently while others tried to tear me down. I’ve had people smile in my face and secretly pray for my downfall. I’ve been the topic of conversations I didn’t consent to, dragged in group chats I didn’t know existed, and judged by people who never once took the chance to get to know me. Meanwhile, all of this talk and conversation has never been addressed to me directly.

Let’s take it there. My birthday this year, April 2025, was the best birthday I’ve ever had. I experienced so much joy, celebration, and love. Yet there was also the hurt. Because even in the middle of that joy, my phone rang with stories of people gossiping about me with people naming names, quoting things word for word, and revealing people’s intention to be mean and harmful. And the foundation of this behavior is rooted in jealousy, insecurity, and projection.

I ask that as you continue reading this article, you do so with an open heart and mind. This is not a space for judgment. It is a space for vulnerability, accountability, and healing through the kinds of conversations that often make us uncomfortable. Together, we will take a closer look at the deeper issues behind our behavior, confront the harmful ways Black women’s responses are policed, and answer the question at the center of it all: is sisterhood really possible?

Black women are under constant attack. Instead of tearing one another down, betraying trust, turning cold shoulders, or refusing to truly listen, we need to reimagine what it means to show up for each other. We should be asking how we can offer support, how we can encourage one another, empower one another, and even lift each other in prayer. The truth is, we need one another now more than ever. Just because someone’s struggles aren’t happening under our roof doesn’t mean they don’t affect us. What happens to one of us touches all of us, because the systems that harm one Black woman are the same systems that threaten us all. 

Rap Shit

At the root of what we’re experiencing is more than just conflict, it's conditioning.

Many of us have unknowingly adopted misogynistic ways of thinking that cause us to see other women as threats instead of mirrors. We’ve been shaped by environments where jealousy and envy were easier to lean into than honesty and self-reflection. We’ve built bonds off gossip, trauma, and survival, instead of trust, love, and truth. Some of us are still carrying unhealed wounds that distort how we give and receive love. We show up guarded, defensive, and reactive, because nobody ever taught us how to be safe with ourselves, let alone each other. We create cliques and play favorites, thinking it’s protection, but really it’s avoidance.

We don’t understand healthy communication because we’ve never seen it modeled, and when someone tries to introduce it, it’s often misunderstood as a threat instead of an invitation. These are not just personal issues, they are collective barriers that we must name, feel, and work through if we truly want sisterhood to be more than just a word.

I briefly addressed the issue with policing the way Black women respond to negativity and bullying, but let’s address this issue even more. I’m not speaking for everyone, but I know that for me, being kind to someone who is being unkind or intentionally hurtful is not my default response. I believe in standing up for yourself. You are allowed to confront what hurts you. That doesn’t mean you have to carry the weight of it or let it strip away your joy or your belief in healthy authentic relationships with women. Honestly speaking, being expected to stay silent or respond gently to someone who is bullying you is unfair. Why are we asking victims of mistreatment to prove their character through silence? Why is the burden always placed on the one being harmed? We don’t talk enough about how rarely we hold each other accountable, especially when it comes to emotional harm.

Beyonce, Kelly, and Michelle

There’s this unspoken rule that in order to appear peaceful or “mature,” you’re supposed to endure disrespect without defending yourself. That’s not healthy. And it gets even more complicated when the harm is coming from people you genuinely respect or once looked up to. Having to constantly defend yourself in those dynamics is exhausting. I’ve had to sit with being labeled “mean” simply because I spoke up for myself, and I’ve had to unlearn the idea that defending my boundaries is wrong. This matters in the larger conversation because how can we ever experience true sisterhood if this continues to be the norm? Tina Knowles recently spoke about this too, how she chooses to stand up for herself even when others don’t like it. And that’s something I deeply resonate with. Holding your ground doesn’t make you difficult, it means you love yourself enough to say, “enough is enough and this isn’t acceptable or okay”.

We’ve talked about what the issue is, named the patterns, unpacked the root causes, and even looked at how these dynamics play out in real time. We’ve acknowledged the harm, the misunderstandings, and the barriers to genuine sisterhood. So now, let’s talk about what healing and accountability can actually look like. 

First, go to therapy. Get to the root of your issues with other women. Ask yourself why you feel triggered by someone’s confidence, voice, presence, or truth. Hold yourself accountable before trying to hold anyone else accountable. And when you do hold someone else accountable, do it from a place of love and not control. Listen to understand, not to judge. When you’re misunderstanding another woman, or anyone really, ask questions to seek clarity. If you don’t like someone, keep it cute because disrespect is never necessary. We are all flawed, learning, and growing so let’s be open to being corrected without taking it as an attack. This also means that if you’ve been the one dishing out the mean, passive-aggressive, or harmful behavior, be ready to sit with the response that comes from it. But for your own peace and growth, stop dishing it out in the first place. Gossip might feel harmless, but it’s not. If someone brings drama to your door that has nothing to do with you, it’s okay to say, “I don’t want to talk about her”. That’s how you protect your peace. 

In a recent In Her Lane interview with Sheka Byrd, we talked about how powerful it would be to create a show where women could hash out their issues face-to-face in a respectful, meaningful way. An environment that not only holds space for hard truths and also challenges us to be vulnerable, open, and committed to learning how to communicate and evolve past problematic relationships. That kind of dialogue can heal more than we know.

Sisterhood is not a one-size-fits-all experience. The true answer lies in our willingness to examine ourselves, confront the painful truths, and embrace the power of healing and accountability. The struggles we face as Black women, whether rooted in societal pressures, jealousy, or misunderstandings, are not insurmountable. Sisterhood requires more than just shared experiences. It demands vulnerability, self-awareness, and a collective commitment to loving one another, even in our imperfections.

Harlem

My commitment to building a supportive and safe community for women, known as Endless Love, has been a journey starting at the age of 22 in my parents' living room. This is where I began to develop experiences that were meant to heal, uplift, and empower. It’s beyond a ministry, it is my purpose and my calling that inspires me every day. 

As we continue to navigate the complexities of our relationships with each other, let’s commit to rewriting the narrative. Create spaces where healing isn’t just a word we speak, but a practice we live. Choose to show up for one another with love and intention, not just when it’s convenient, but especially when it’s hard. And just like we should carefully choose romantic partners, we should be equally mindful about the women we allow into our lives.

Sisterhood is achievable, but not with everyone and that's just the hard pill that we have to swallow. 

This piece is an opinion article written for Women for the Culture. We fully support and stand by the author’s perspective as it reflects the lived experiences and truths of many Black women.