I’m Not the Wife. I’m Not the Mother. But I’m Still Expected to Clean.

There’s this unspoken expectation I’ve noticed—especially as a single Black woman with no children.

If I’m staying in a family home or just spending time with relatives, suddenly I’m expected to take on the role of the homemaker. Cooking. Cleaning. Straightening up after people. Playing the part of “help” simply because I’m there. And to be honest—it bothers me. Not because I’m above doing chores or pitching in. I understand exchange, and I value giving when I receive. But what happens when the giving is one-sided? When the expectation is rooted in my gender, or worse—my perceived availability?

Why am I expected to play the role of a wife or mother when I am neither?

And to be clear, this isn’t a critique of married women or mothers. In fact, I honor the sacredness of those roles. What I’m reflecting on is the silent burden placed on women who aren’t in those roles, yet are still expected to serve as if they are.

Sometimes, I simply don’t want to do it.

Sometimes I just want to rest in the space I’m in without having to earn it through acts of service.

Sometimes I want my presence to be enough.

Because here’s the truth: I am not a placeholder for a role someone else abandoned. I’m not your built-in babysitter, your in-house maid, or your emotional support woman just because I’m single and child-free.

I am a full person. I deserve agency. And I am allowed to choose how I give.

Let’s Keep This Open:

Here are some thoughts I’m sitting with—feel free to sit with them too:

• Black women are not default caretakers. We deserve relationships and living spaces where our presence isn’t automatically equated with labor.

• You can set boundaries and still be grateful. Gratitude doesn’t mean overextending yourself into exhaustion.

• Serving others is beautiful—but it should be a choice, not a cultural obligation.

• Rest is a birthright. You don’t have to earn it by over-performing in a household that isn’t yours.

• Married women and mothers deserve honor. But honoring them should never come at the cost of diminishing or overburdening single women.

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If you’re a single Black woman navigating similar spaces—know that you’re not alone in this tension. And if you’re someone who hasn’t considered how these dynamics play out, I invite you to reflect with an open heart.

We are all learning how to love each other more respectfully. Let’s start there.