This summer Amandla Stenberg, a 15-year-old actor, requested that we “end the angry black girl narrative”. Stenberg had been criticised for calling out Kylie Jenner’s culturally appropriated cornrows, but did not stay silent. “It’s just another attempt to undermine certain perspectives,” Amandla continued. “I have strong opinions. I am not angry.”

Long attributed to black women who have dared to stand up for what they believe in, the “angry black girl” archetype Stenberg refers to is one that reduces having an informed opinion to having a plain ol’ attitude problem.

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I too used to buy into the angry black girl narrative. You know, the one you see on TV: the lady who’s always yelling, hand gestures everywhere, neck rolling – the bubble-gum-popping black girl who always has plenty to say, usually something nagging, loud and confrontational. You’ll see her on “reality” TV shows such as Love & Hip Hop and Bad Girls Club, or go back to the 1930s and she was Sapphire on the radio (and later TV) show Amos ‘n’ Andy.

But it wasn’t until recently that I began to see that the popular “black girl with an attitude” trope was just a way to oppress and undermine black women and our ability to engage, connect and feel. These negative traits are consistently pinned on black women, depicting us as angry even as we calmly state an opinion, or as having an attitude when we are justifiably angry. Who cares if we are understandably angry about the countless black people murdered in the past year?

The stereotype has parallels in the “strong black woman” and the “strong independent woman” (of any race): all limit our ability as women to emote, as if the only emotion we can express is anger and our only quality is strength.

These images of black femininity are constantly force-fed to us through the media, and it’s time we started questioning why. The fact that we are consistently portrayed this way says a lot about society’s treatment of black people – the lack of respect and even kindness.

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When black women are not being boxed into narrow roles, they are often pitted against white women. A recent headline from the Daily Mail describing Serena Williams as a “human volcano” while Maria Sharapova was labelled as the more favourable “ice queen”.

Or how about Nicki Minaj’s recent tweets addressing the latent racism within the music industry after her MTV VMA snub? Her comments were quickly dismissed by Miley Cyrus, which allowed the media to describe Minaj as just “going on a rant”.

The plight of black females continues: self-hate from our own, racism from others, sexism, constant critiques of our bodies, hair, skin tone, and a whole lot more. While many women of colour may relate to the issues black women face, these specific stereotypes of the angry black woman and black girls with attitude are directed specifically at us, originating from an institutionalised system that has historically demonised, criticised and mocked black women.

We have valid, complex emotions that we are entitled to feel and express. Do some of us have an attitude? Sure. But is that a problem or a valid excuse to dismiss black women’s opinions? No. I personally wear my so-called attitude with pride. I have confidence and conviction in what I believe in, and will express my opinion when I feel I need to. If that’s having an “attitude problem”, then, sweetie, you just have to deal with it.