Modern medicine is built on science, research, and the belief that patients deserve care rooted in dignity. But for Black women in the United States, that promise has never been fully honored — and the reasons why go back centuries.
From slavery through the early 20th century, harmful myths were created about Black women’s bodies, abilities, pain, and morality. These weren’t random stereotypes. They were tools used to justify violence, exploitation, and unequal treatment. And although the original systems have changed, echoes of those myths still influence how Black women experience healthcare today.
Understanding those myths — where they came from, why they were created, and how they still show up — helps explain why trust, safety, and outcomes remain uneven.
Enslavers needed a story that made the exploitation of Black women seem acceptable. They invented ideas that:
These myths weren’t beliefs — they were political tools used to rationalize forced labor and forced reproduction.
During the 19th century, some physicians used enslaved women for surgical experimentation without anesthesia or consent. To defend the practice, they promoted claims that:
These ideas entered medical literature and influenced generations of physicians.
As slavery collapsed and Jim Crow rose, stereotypes cast Black women as:
These narratives influenced welfare policy, hospital treatment, and public perceptions.
When unequal outcomes in health, wealth, and childbirth became visible, new narratives emerged claiming the disparities were cultural, genetic, or behavioral — anything but structural.
These myths hid the truth: the inequality was built by policy, not biology.
For decades, training materials described racial differences in pain, anatomy, or disease risk based on bias rather than evidence.
Black women’s symptoms were — and often still are — minimized, questioned, or attributed to personality rather than pathology.
Black patients were dramatically under-prescribed pain medications because of the false belief that they required less relief.
Black women’s complications were taken less seriously; interventions were delayed; complaints were dismissed.
Many major medical studies excluded Black women, reinforcing the idea that their health was peripheral.
These myths weren’t confined to history books — they became part of medical culture.
Black women today report encountering:
This isn’t due to individual prejudice alone. It’s the result of narratives built into the foundations of American medicine.
Although Black women were the direct targets, the ripple effects reached other communities:
Faced similar myths around pain, strength, and criminalization that shaped emergency care and mental health treatment.
Experienced stereotyping around pain, morality, and family structure that influenced medical treatment and child removal.
Often labeled culturally “noncompliant” or “difficult” when advocating for themselves.
Experienced moralizing narratives about fertility, “fitness,” and worthiness that shaped welfare and maternal care.
While each group’s experience differed, the underlying pattern—using stereotypes to justify unequal care—was systemic.
Even today, some students report hearing outdated or biased claims presented as fact.
Bias doesn’t require intention — it’s often absorbed through culture, repetition, and institutional norms.
Discussions about reproductive care, contraception access, or childbirth often recycle old stereotypes in new language.
If someone expects to be dismissed, they may withhold critical information — and if a provider expects “strength,” they may overlook warning signs.
Myths place responsibility on individuals rather than on unequal systems.
These myths distort:
When one group is treated based on myth instead of science, everyone’s care is compromised because the system itself is compromised.
Across the country, Black women, midwives, doulas, scholars, nurses, and physicians are:
Change didn’t appear on its own — it was pushed forward by the communities harmed by these myths.
Because the stories we tell about people eventually become the stories we tell about their health.
When we understand the myths that shaped medical care, we can:
This isn’t just history — it’s a guide for building something better.
NMAAHC — Medical Racism & Stereotypes Collections
https://nmaahc.si.edu/
CDC — Bias in Healthcare Studies
https://cdc.gov/
Black Women’s Health Imperative
https://bwhi.org/
NIH — Racial Disparities in Pain Assessment
https://www.nih.gov/
Reproductive Justice Organizations
https://birthequity.org/
https://blackmamasmatter.org/