By Deborah Trotter

Black women are shifting from survival mode to softness—and it’s not just self-care, it’s a cultural reclamation.

This summer has already been unofficially claimed by the “92%”—the often-cited group of Black women who overwhelmingly supported Vice President Kamala Harris and continue to represent one of the most influential voting demographics. But in the face of political chaos, economic strain, and emotional exhaustion, many Black women in this group are choosing to “sit this one out.” Instead of leading every movement, organizing every event, or holding everyone else down, they’re turning inward. They're choosing peace.

Since last November, social media has been flooded with images of Black women reclaiming their rest and joy—whether it’s enjoying endless mimosa brunches, booking solo trips, or spending peaceful nights without the demands of the outside world.

But this shift isn't new.

From Hustle to Healing: The Cultural Shift

There’s a long-running joke in the Black women’s community: when we leave a stressful relationship, we give ourselves a short window to be sad (if that), then immediately channel our emotions into achievement. We enroll in grad school, launch businesses, or completely reinvent our lives. The pain doesn’t get processed. It gets turned into a project.

While it’s often said in jest, there’s truth beneath the humor. For many Black women, productivity has become a coping mechanism. Generationally, we've been wired to believe that rest is a luxury we haven’t earned, and that healing is something we must do on the move—if at all.

Strength has been our survival strategy. And sometimes, our burden.

This internalized pressure has led to exhaustion across nearly every area of life. According to a 2022 report by BlackWomenThriving.com, 38% of Black women report often feeling burnout in the workplace, with many pointing to emotional labor, code-switching, and systemic bias as key contributors.

But something is shifting.

The Rise of the “Soft Life”

Scroll through TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube and search “soft life Black women.” You'll be met with a flood of content: silk robes, skincare routines, solo vacations, journaling in the sun, matcha mornings, and Sunday resets. Beyond the aesthetic lies deep intentionality.

Despite different budgets, backgrounds, and life stages, Black women are rewriting the script. Whether it’s committing to weekly therapy, setting boundaries at work, practicing minimalism, or simply enjoying a long bath without guilt, we are collectively rejecting the idea that rest must be earned through struggle.

At the risk of sounding like a 7th grade essay, according to Dictionary.com, the soft life is defined as “a lifestyle of comfort and relaxation with minimal challenges or stress.” Think of influencer and entrepreneur Jackie Aina, steaming her white linens and spritzing herself with luxury perfume before bed. But beyond the surface, the soft life is about access: access to time, to calm, and to care.

More Than a Trend—A Quiet Rebellion

The soft life movement isn’t just a trend. For many Black women, it’s a form of protest.

Choosing softness is not the absence of strength; it’s a refusal to be only strong. It’s a quiet, consistent rebellion against generational burnout, survival mode, and a society that celebrates us only for how much we can endure.

We’re no longer content with just “making it.” We want to enjoy it.

And in doing so, we are redefining what freedom looks like, not only in theory but also in practice. Not just for ourselves, but for the generations of Black women coming after us.

A Soft Life Invitation

This movement isn’t about abandoning ambition. It’s about making room for joy, rest, and intentional living alongside it. It's about asking ourselves: What would life look like if we weren't constantly in survival mode? And perhaps more importantly: What kind of legacy are we building if softness becomes part of our story, too?

If you’re a Black woman who has chosen a soft life or is somewhere in the process of reclaiming your peace, I’d love to hear from you. What does softness look like for you? What have you had to unlearn to make space for it?

Share your story. Your voice is part of this renaissance.