Every day, without fail, I call my mom. But I sometimes get nervous before picking up the phone, bracing myself for how tired she’ll sound. In her voice—even as she was more than 2,000 miles away while I completed my summer internship at the Institute for Women’s Policy Research (IWPR)—I can hear the years she has spent shouldering the weight of being a single mom raising four kids.
That’s tiring enough, but I know that her career in caregiving—a field that is all too often undervalued, under-resourced, and underpaid—also takes a toll. I was reminded of this burden, and its disparate impact on Black women, last month as we recognized Black Women’s Equal Pay Day.
My time at IWPR led me to draw parallels between the organization’s research and my family’s experience, seeing it through the lens of the systemic barriers to economic and personal well-being that Black women face. But even in the face of that harsh reality, Black women like my mother continue to rewrite their stories, against all odds, with proven resilience. Elevating the experiences of the generations of Black women who have undertaken care work—both paid and unpaid—and not minimizing them to just their struggles is a key part of addressing persistent economic inequities.
My mom, who had me at a young age, did everything in her power to provide us with a better life. After several years living in a refugee camp in Zambia, the United Nations refugee program relocated my family to the United States. Challenges in assimilating were to be expected, but I was still shocked that in this new life, where we were promised better, I hardly saw my mom. When I did, she had dark circles under her eyes and was exhausted and overwhelmed. After all, she was learning a new language, adjusting to a new culture, and working back-breaking shifts as a housekeeper with limited resources and support for caring for her children.
With only a high school education, my mom still pushed herself to pursue training and education for a career in health care as a certified nursing assistant. She ultimately obtained a job as a caregiver working with a diverse array of clients with different physical and mental health needs. This is a common path for Black women: IWPR analysis revealed that in 2024, 1 in 5 Black women were working in health care occupations. Not surprisingly, the first full-time job I took out of high school was working alongside my mom in the same field—a job I still do when I’m back home.
The overrepresentation of Black women in low-wage sectors is a key factor in the persistence of their enormous wage gap.
Black women working full-time year-round make just 65 cents for every dollar made by non-Hispanic White men, and all Black women workers make just 63 cents. In 2024, the Department of Labor found that pay inequity cost Black women $42.7 billion in lost wages. On an individual level, IWPR analysis found that the wage gap translates to more than $1 million in lost earnings over a 40-year career. IWPR’s latest estimates found that the slow pace of progress means it will take until 2071 for all women working full-time year-round to achieve pay equity, but it will take Black women more than 150 years. That wage gap cannot narrow so long as Black women continue to bear the brunt of a slowing job market and continue to be underpaid, undervalued, and overrepresented in low-wage jobs.
That undervaluing is both a reflection of and a reason for the feminization of care work. The fact that such work is disproportionately performed by women underscores the effects of occupational segregation (the overrepresentation of men or women in certain jobs), with discrimination reinforcing this cultural devaluation. Also troubling is the fact that “emotional labor”—the skills and expertise needed to carry out care work—is rarely reflected in their pay and working conditions.
Once I started to work as a caregiver myself, the pressures of the workday gave way to the realization of how constrained my mom’s position was and always had been. She had to keep working on her feet while pregnant, and she clocked back in shortly after giving birth. Like 73 percent of civilian workers, she had no access to paid family leave. Among the lowest-wage workers, who are disproportionately women of color, 95 percent lack access. Finding affordable and quality child care is also a challenge across the country: US families spend up to 16 percent of their median income on full-day care for even a single child, a financial burden even heavier for single mothers or parents of multiple children.
Many women like my mom, who come home from grueling shifts to provide care for their families, wind up reducing their work hours, forfeiting an average of 15 percent of their earnings to provide family care, according to the Urban Institute. Almost 4 out of 5 Black women are the sole or co-breadwinner for their families, and women of color face the largest gaps in unpaid caregiving hours compared with men. To get to where she is now, my mom has endured working long hours in conditions that can be dangerous, understaffed, and under-resourced. I know because I’ve worked by her side in the same job.
This year’s Black Women’s Equal Pay Day came as Black women across the country are disproportionately feeling the economic consequences of funding cuts and federal layoffs, contending with rising unemployment and uneven job prospects, especially for younger Black workers. Black women shouldn’t have to sacrifice their physical, emotional, and financial well-being within a broken system that is not built with their economic equity in mind.
That’s why we must advance policy solutions that address the deeply rooted barriers they face and create a system where caregiving is accessible and affordable, recognized as an essential part of our economy, and valued at the pay it deserves.
While it can be painful to think about how tired my mom must be, every time we talk on the phone, I am also reminded of just how vital it is to continue sharing stories like hers, while also conducting valuable research and advocating for solutions to the inequities Black women face. The goal isn’t simply to have more money, but to unlock the financial security that will give all Black women the ability to lead a fulfilling life—for their children, their communities, and most importantly for themselves.
