She Chose Life: Rethinking What We Ask of Black Women in Moments of Crisis

At a crowded train station, chaos unfolded in an instant. A woman was dying. Blood on the floor, panic in the air, the sound of fear echoing louder than any voice of reason. And in the aftermath, a stranger — a Black woman who witnessed it — was criticized.

“They said she should have held her. They said she should have stayed. They said she should have comforted a dying stranger in her final moments.”

But what few have stopped to ask is this: What did she feel in that instant?

She saw blood. She saw a weapon. She saw a scene that could have turned dangerous in a matter of seconds. And in that split-second choice, she chose survival. She chose to step back, to stay safe, to ensure she made it home that night.

For some, that decision was labeled selfish. Cold. Unfeeling. But the truth is far more complicated.

Black women are too often burdened with impossible expectations. They are expected to be the nurturers, the protectors, the healers, the strong ones who risk it all — even when the cost is their own safety. When tragedy strikes, society instinctively looks to them for comfort. But why should their humanity always be measured by how much they sacrifice?

The reality is simple: survival is not selfish. It is human. Her decision to protect her life does not erase her empathy — it affirms her worth in a world that has historically told Black women their lives are expendable.

To the white woman who called her out, and to anyone else who has ever judged from a distance: understand this. She was not cold. She was afraid. And she had every right to be.

She did not owe her body, her comfort, or her very life to a stranger in a moment that was never safe. Choosing life should never be condemned. It should be honored.

Because in that moment at the station, the Black woman made a choice many would have made — even if they don’t want to admit it. She chose to live.

And that choice deserves compassion, too.