How To Protect Black Girls During the Holidays & Beyond

As the holidays approach, many of us picture joy, laughter, and family gatherings. But for too many Black women, this season can also bring heightened risk. Financial strain, emotional triggers, and isolation often converge to create dangerous conditions for those experiencing intimate partner violence. That reality is why Ujima: The National Center on Violence Against Women in the Black Community, exists—to make sure Black women are seen, heard, and protected, even in moments when they’re told to “keep the peace.”

Founded by a collective of advocates determined to close the gap in culturally specific services, Ujima’s work is rooted in its name—a Swahili word meaning “collective work and responsibility.” It’s a Kwanzaa principle that perfectly mirrors the organization’s mission: to mobilize the village to end gender-based violence against Black women and girls.

“It’s going to take our entire community,” says Ujima founder Karma Cottman, her tone calm yet urgent. “We need men and women working together to address domestic violence. If women are overwhelmingly the victims, then men must be part of ending it. It impacts all of us—our children, our families, our future.”

A Vision Born From the Gaps

Before launching Ujima, Cottman and her co-founders were working across national and international gender-based violence programs. Yet, time after time, they saw the same pattern: decisions made about Black women, not with them.

“We sat in rooms where no one looked like us, even though the policies being created disproportionately impacted us,” she says. “Black women are two and a half times more likely to be murdered by an intimate partner. We needed research, advocacy, and programs that reflect our lived experiences—and our healing.”

That insistence on self-determination became Ujima’s core philosophy: the solutions for Black women must come from Black women.

Protection Beyond the Physical

Cottman’s definition of safety goes far beyond locks and alarms. For Ujima, protection is holistic.

“Domestic violence manifests physically, emotionally, financially, and spiritually,” she explains. “For Black women, being protected means having control over your finances, your mental health, your spiritual well-being. It means being able to go to your church or family and not be blamed.”

That shift in understanding—moving from crisis response to full-scope wellness—has shaped everything from Ujima’s policy advocacy to its community healing programs. Over the summer, the organization hosted Healing the Healers, a space for survivors and advocates to rest, paint, and simply breathe. It’s a radical act in a culture that often romanticizes the “strong Black woman” to the point of erasure.

“The idea that our rite of passage is to endure everything is so harmful,” the founder says. “It’s okay to prioritize yourself. It’s okay to ask for help.”

When Home Isn’t Safe

She emphasizes the importance of listening without judgment. “When someone discloses abuse, don’t say, ‘I would never’ or ‘Just leave.’ The most dangerous time for a survivor is when they separate from their abuser. Listen, support, and help them plan safely.”

During the holidays, Ujima sees a spike in calls and outreach from survivors. The reasons are layered: extended time at home, limited escape routes, financial pressure, and the emotional complexity of family dynamics. “You’re around family, drinking, reminiscing—nobody wants to ‘ruin the vibe,’” Cottman says. “But that silence can be deadly.”

Her advice is practical:

Know the warning signs: isolation from family and friends, financial control, excessive monitoring, or emotional manipulation.
Check on your strong friends: the ones who seem to have it all together might be suffering in silence.
Understand safety planning: ask survivors where they can go, who they can call, and how they can exit safely.

Rewriting the Narrative

Language, Cottman insists, is a form of protection—or harm. “If we keep calling Black women ‘angry,’ ‘strong,’ or worse, we teach the world that we don’t deserve softness,” she says. “By nine years old, Black girls are already being adultified. We have to change how we talk about them, and to them.”

This awareness shapes Ujima’s education and advocacy efforts. From college partnerships to policy reform, the organization ensures Black women are not just statistics—they are storytellers, leaders, and visionaries.

“When I asked high schoolers who modeled healthy relationships, they said Jay-Z and Beyoncé, Barack and Michelle, and the Cosbys,” Cottman recalls. “Not one said a parent, aunt, or neighbor. That told me we need to show young people what real love looks like—in our homes and communities.”

Wellness as Resistance

Wellness, for Black women, has been viewed as a luxury. Ujima reframes it as survival. “We are conditioned to equate strength with struggle. But being well—emotionally, physically, spiritually—is revolutionary.”

Namely, through initiatives like Healing the Healers, Connected & Protected (a program that merges safety and technology for college students), and partnerships with HBCUs, Ujima is creating spaces where Black women can reclaim their wholeness.

And for those looking to make wellness a daily practice, Karma Cottman offers gentle but firm advice: “Make yourself a priority. Give yourself permission to say no. Reconnect where you’ve been isolated. When something doesn’t feel right—believe that feeling.”

Building The Future

In a world where anti-DEI policies threaten the very existence of culturally specific services, Ujima’s mission is both personal and political. The organization’s new Power of 10 initiative invites supporters to form small giving circles—ten people raising $1,000 together—to directly fund safety programs for Black women and girls nationwide.

Because, as Cottman reminds me, Ujima’s power lies in its name.

Lastly, “We don’t make widgets,” she says with a smile. “Our work only happens in community and in sisterhood. That’s how we heal. That’s how we protect each other.”

How You Can Support

Visit ujimacommunity.org to learn more about Ujima’s programs, donate to the Power of 10 initiative, or find culturally specific organizations in your area.

If you or someone you know needs help, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or visit thehotline.org for confidential support.

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How To Protect Black Girls During the Holidays & Beyond