Lady Michelle...

Attacks on Michelle Obama aren't new. They tap into one of the oldest racist stereotypes in American history: the idea that Black women are somehow less feminine, less delicate, less worthy of protection, and somehow closer to men than other women.

This wasn't just about insults. It had a purpose.

For centuries, portraying Black women as unusually strong, masculine, or physically different helped justify exploiting their labor in fields, homes, factories, and plantations. If society could convince itself that Black women were built differently, then it became easier to deny them the care, compassion, and protection afforded to others.

The echoes of that thinking remain with us today.

Study after study has documented racial disparities in healthcare, including the persistent myth that Black people—and Black women in particular—experience less pain. Black mothers continue to face disproportionately high rates of maternal mortality and complications, regardless of income or education. These disparities don't appear out of nowhere. They grow from generations of stereotypes about whose suffering is real and whose isn't.

So when people mock Michelle Obama by questioning her femininity, they're participating in a much older tradition whether they realize it or not. The same pattern can be seen in incidents such as the Josh Hokit's attack, where racist assumptions and dehumanizing portrayals reinforced harmful narratives about Black people and their place in society.

Nothing about Michelle Obama is masculine. She is an accomplished woman, a wife, a mother, an attorney, and a former First Lady. Perhaps what some people find threatening isn't masculinity at all. Perhaps it's the sight of a confident, intelligent Black woman who refuses to shrink herself to make others comfortable.

History has always had a hard time with that.