By Ta’Khya Carlisle, North News Intern 

Norijah Alexander, 19, started her freshman year at St. Catherine’s University last fall. She entered a classroom optimistic, but left uneasy, being one of the few Black women in the room. 

As she began to navigate a new part of her life, she struggled with her identity. She felt she needed to act a certain way. When she tried to look back on the things that grounded her, there was a hole. 

“I feel like I have to be more responsible,” she said. “I have to be a certain way, and I have to change my tone for people. I feel like I have to be myself for my comfort, but I also have to put it in a way so other people don’t get uncomfortable with me.” 

Alexander grew up in North Minneapolis and didn’t have access to spaces that prioritized her identity as a queer Black girl. 

As a result, she had never fully felt the confidence of being comfortable in her own skin. She said having a space in her community dedicated to Black girls would have helped with that, but when she was young, she had nowhere to look. 

In the programs that did exist, she said Black girls felt like an afterthought. 

“Black men, who I love and who care about, have more opportunities than we do,” Alexander said, “Because a lot of people exclude us, especially with not just race, but with gender. A lot of Black men are targeted, so we try to hyperfocus on them, but don’t realize we lack community on the other side of it too.” 

Black girls face disparities in several areas, often in school discipline, adultification, and societal stereotypes. And often, they fight these battles silently. 

“Black men have the support from the Black community, period, while Black women have to support each other, and we have to support others,” she said. “We have to be active for everyone. But not everyone’s doing that for us.” 

She also felt that with Black girls, there is no grace given. 

“I’ve been told so many times that I’m getting defensive when I’m just talking, and  I hate it,” she said. “I’ve been told I’m dramatic about little stuff, especially when (something) hurts my feelings.” Labels like “dramatic” for expressing emotions reflect broader patterns in how society perceives and treats Black girls. 

Exploration High School staff member Cieara Simms, who grew up in North Minneapolis, says the lack of dedicated spaces for Black girls there has been noticeable since her childhood. 

We actually created our own spaces,” Simms said. Although organizations such as the Boys and Girls Club existed, barriers persisted. 

“We didn’t have any transportation to get down there,” Simms said. The Jerry Gamble Boys & Girls Club is located at 2410 N Irving Ave. 

Simms recalled feeling unaware of programs specifically designed for Black girls while growing up in North Minneapolis. Even when opportunities became available, she said many programs had limited capacity, making participation difficult for some youth. 

“They filled up so fast,” she said, describing how waiting lists and limited staffing often prevented consistent access to program and mentorship opportunities. 

“It was like, you gotta go on the waiting list, and the waiting list came to ‘Oh now you can.’ Then you gotta go on the waiting list again, because it’s gonna fill up again.” 

According to Simms, the absence of accessible support systems and mentorship for Black girls can have long-term effects extending into adulthood. She reflected on how guidance surrounding relationships, health education, financial literacy, and self-care could have helped her navigate certain challenges earlier in life. 

“If I had had a woman on my side,” Simms said, “where she’s telling us how boys could get, how STDs are bad out here, how you can be manipulated by boys, I wouldn’t have struggled as much as I did.” 

Simms also emphasized the importance of programs led by Black women that teach practical life skills to younger girls. 

“I feel like if we had a youth program that allows us to interact with younger women, I feel like it’ll be a better experience,” she said. She pointed to topics such as hygiene, financial literacy, and credit-building as areas she believes could positively affect young women in the community. 

“I grew up, I didn’t have that,” Simms said. “And I feel like with me wanting to do this when I grew up, I could have done it when I was young. If I had known these steps before being young, I think my adult life would be different.” 

Simms’ perspective, alongside Alexander’s experiences, highlights a broader conversation about support and inclusion for Black girls in North Minneapolis. Both women expressed that having more spaces specifically designed for Black girls could have provided a stronger sense of belonging and guidance while growing up. 

Together, their experiences raise an ongoing question within the community. Where can young Black girls go to feel supported?