Health & Wellness

March of the Machines: Black Women, Women’s Month, and the Fight to Stay Human

March is Women’s Month, and every year it brings a mix of celebration and quiet tension. Black women often shoulder extra responsibilities, more work, more caregiving, more challenges, yet receive less support, understanding, and fewer opportunities. As a Generation X Black woman who became a mother early, I’ve seen these everyday realities labeled as “risk factors” in health and wellness data, rather than acknowledged as proof that systems demand too much and offer too little. Despite this, I advanced into leadership roles in mental health and nonprofit organizations. My journey meant I was frequently the only one in the room, had to demonstrate my abilities before they were assumed, and led with empathy where the value of Black women’s humanity felt conditional. Access to resources, mentorship, advocates, and timely opportunities didn’t just alter my path, it uplifted the communities I serve. Protective factors go beyond personal achievement; when Black women receive support, it benefits families, workplaces, and entire neighborhoods.

That’s why this moment matters. We’ve entered an era shaped by artificial intelligence and digital media, tools that don’t just influence how we work, but increasingly shape how we think, what we believe, and what we’re able to feel. Deepfakes, algorithm-driven feeds, and synthetic content make truth harder to verify and harm easier to consume. Violence is now packaged as content, and outrage is compressed into a tap and a scroll, especially when the suffering belongs to people like me. The danger isn’t only that machines can imitate humanity; it’s that we start responding to each other with machine-like detachment.

This raises an important question: Are the real effects of technological advancement manifesting in ourselves through increased desensitization and diminished empathy, rather than solely within technology? When individuals are regarded primarily as data to be categorized, evaluated, and overlooked, the result is not only a loss of nuance but also a decline in moral urgency. In the absence of this urgency, inequity is not merely sustained, it becomes more readily accepted as the norm.

To understand why this hits Black women so sharply, you have to follow the thread from digital systems to daily life, from the feed to the front door. Social determinants of health still shape what is possible and what is at risk: health care access, income, housing, education, safety, and the ability to be taken seriously inside institutions. These disparities aren’t theoretical; they show up in outcomes that are measurable and devastating. The CDC reported that Black women in the United States faced a maternal mortality rate of 50.3 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2023, compared with 14.5 for White women. That one statistic isn’t just a number, it’s a loud question. What would change if pain were believed the first time, if care were delivered promptly, if bias were interrupted early, and if our systems were designed to protect Black women with the same urgency, they protect others?

Economics is another determinant AI can either help repair or widen. Bureau of Labor Statistics data show Black women’s median weekly earnings at $942, compared with $1,108 for White women among full-time wage and salary workers. The gap isn’t just financial; it’s about having flexibility, covering emergencies, taking unpaid leave, relocating, accessing therapy, or hiring help. For many Black women, this margin means the difference between stability and facing crisis from a single unexpected bill.

When discussing opportunity, it’s essential to consider wealth, since its opposite, poverty is linked to numerous risks like poor health and long-term quality of life issues. Wealth is what remains after one’s paycheck is spent; it enables individuals to make choices. According to the Federal Reserve, racial wealth disparities are still significant, with median gaps surpassing $220,000 in 2022 between White families and Black families. When wealth is scarce, the effects of biased systems are more profound, a rejected loan, overpriced insurance, or a declined apartment application isn’t merely inconvenient; it can fundamentally alter the course of someone’s life.

AI holds significant potential: when used thoughtfully, it can break down barriers that have restricted access to opportunities. Tools like language translation, captioning, speech-to-text, and other accessibility features enable people to navigate systems that weren’t built for everyone. In fields such as mental health and social services, AI can improve appointment scheduling, benefit screenings, triage, and follow-up, critical advantages given to lengthy waitlists and limited staff. Personally, as a Black woman who had to search persistently for mentors, resources, and career guidance, I’m amazed at how technology now makes accessible what was once hidden, providing affordable options for negotiation coaching, resume help, interview preparation, and salary benchmarks to support fair pay advocacy. Yet, this promise depends on addressing challenges too: if speed is valued over fairness, AI risks reinforcing inequities rather than resolving them.

The biggest risk AI introduces for marginalized communities; especially Black women is discrimination at scale. Bias can slip in through skewed data, missing representation, and proxy signals that stand in for race and class. Once automated, those patterns can show up everywhere: hiring filters, tenant screening, lending, insurance, healthcare triage, benefits eligibility. Unlike one biased person making one biased decision, automated systems can multiply harm quietly and widely before anyone notices, especially if nobody is required to measure disparate impact or correct it when it appears.

Another significant concern arises in contexts where Black women may already experience heightened vulnerability: institutional systems that determine outcomes without providing clear explanations. When organizations substitute human decision-making with automated processes, individuals can receive ambiguous denials of benefits, credit, housing, or services with minimal transparency. For those who have faced systemic underestimation, the importance of this issue is evident: accountability must remain a priority when decisions significantly impact people’s lives.

In the context of Women’s Month, when Black women are celebrated publicly yet often protected less visibly, it is important to maintain a balanced perspective on technology. Rather than abandoning technological advancements or idealizing previous eras, we must prioritize human-centered design firmly rooted in principles of equity. It is important to use methods that can evaluate unequal effects and to maintain clear accountability for outcomes that are not fair. Additionally, ensuring there is someone who can step in keeps decisions flexible and protects people’s dignity by allowing ongoing access to relationships. Meaningful community input is crucial, so those impacted have a real say in setting acceptable standards.

But policy and process, while necessary, won’t be sufficient on their own. This moment also demands something cultural: we have to rebuild the muscle of empathy. Black women are not hashtags or case studies, nor are we simply defined by resilience. We are complete individuals, daughters, aunties, sisters. Many of us become leaders even as young mothers. As executives, we make the impossible happen with limited resources. As clinicians, we hold space for trauma with both compassion and healthy boundaries. We are creators, healers, and builders. We deserve to live within systems, human and technological, that value our lives deeply, refusing to treat them as expendable.

To assess if an AI tool is appropriate, consider these points: What decision does it affect, and what are the consequences if it’s wrong? Are its outcomes demonstrably fair across groups? Is there clear accountability and a way to appeal to someone with authority? Finally, ask who profits and who takes on the risk.

The rise of technology doesn’t mean we have to lose our humanity. Innovations can help make opportunities more equal and bridge long-standing gaps, but only if Black women and other marginalized groups are included rather than harmed. Consent, transparency, and fairness must be core principles, not afterthoughts. Our future depends not just on machine capabilities, but also on what we decide to safeguard. Choosing to remain purposefully human may be the most important design decision we ever make.

By Kamilah Twymon, LPCC-S, MBA

Sources:

DATA: BLACK WOMEN, HEALTH, AND ECONOMIC DISPARITIES (SDoH)

AI EQUITY, ETHICS, AND BEST PRACTICES

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