Brenda’s got a Blue Eye: Theology, Visibility, and Reclamation
Reclaiming the Narratives of Black Girlhood: A Theological Exploration
In Tupac's Brenda’s Got a Baby, he tells the story of a young girl forced to grow up too fast in a world that isn’t kind to her. "Brenda’s got a baby, but she’s barely got a chance," he raps, capturing the harsh reality that many Black girls face. But this isn't just about hardship—it's about their faith and brilliance even in spaces where they're often unseen. But wait, Brenda “barely had a brain” how can she be brilliant? “Barely got a brain” isn’t about lacking intelligence; it’s about the stolen opportunity to mature in a supportive, nurturing environment. It’s highlighting how her mind is still developing, how she’s still finding space to grow amidst chaos. It’s an invitation to honor her thoughts, questions, and the theologies she's starting to form. In Brenda’s Got a Blue Eye, we’re diving into the theological reclamation of Black girlhood, through the lens of Black Girlhood Theology, exploring the lived experience of characters like Pecola Breedlove from Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, Troy Carmichael from the Spike Lee Joint Crooklyn, and and Brenda from Tupac’s Brenda’s Got a Baby.
Black Girlhood Theology, as defined by Khristi Lauren Adams builds on Womanist Theology and Girlhood Studies to address the unique intersections of race, gender faith and identity for Black girls, within both theological and cultural contexts. Womanist Theology is an extension and critique of Black Theology by centering the experiences of Black women and girls. This Women’s History month, we launched BLOOM, a digital campaign that reclaims Black girl narratives through the lens of Black Girlhood Theology. Three iconic representations of Black girlhood—Pecola Breedlove, Troy Carmichael, and Brenda—serve as profound touchstones for exploring the intersection of Black girlhood theology and the reclamation of identity, voice, and power. These stories reflect the nuanced experiences of Black girls growing up in a world that constantly seeks to marginalize and silence them.
Pecola Breedlove: The Theology of Imago Dei and Visibility
In Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, Pecola Breedlove embodies the death of self-esteem, as she struggles with the vulnerabilities that come with having dismissive parents. Pecola’s desire for blue eyes is not just a wish for beauty but a cry for visibility. She believes that possessing them would make her visible, accepted, and loved among those who render her invisible.
Her desire is not merely a request for physical transformation but a theological wrestling with identity. Black girls with the passivity of Pecola are often marginalized, yet in this request, she’s electing agency as she seeks a transformation that she believes will allow her to be recognized and valued—not just by society, but by God. In Black girlhood theology, Pecola exemplifies the experience many Black girls face in seeking visibility and validation. It highlights the belief that God sees them, even when everyone else refuses to acknowledge their worth.
Pecola’s story challenges us to reconsider the nature of both image and prayer. While it’s never explicitly mentioned that Pecola prayed for blue eyes, her desire for them is rooted in the same origin as any other prayer bookended with a “Dear God” and “Amen.” This prayerful desire is not just about asking for things, rather it’s about confronting the longing to be affirmed and loved. Black girlhood theology encourages us to remind Black girls that their existence, the way they are, isn’t accidental. When we affirm their voice, their brilliance, their beauty, and their presence, —we’re reminding them of a truth that existed before they were born: “You are made in God’s image.”
Teaching her that she is fearfully and wonderfully made isn’t just encouragement—it’s spiritual warfare.
Reclaiming Pecola’s narrative means advocating for a theology where Black girls see themselves through divine eyes—where they are seen, loved, and valued just as they are, without needing to conform to oppressive societal standards.
Troy Carmichael: Theodicy and the Struggle with Suffering
In “Crooklyn,” Troy Carmichael represents the strength, complexity, and resilience of Black girlhood in the urban landscape. Beyond her vibrant personality and assertiveness, Troy engages with deep theological questions surrounding theodicy—the exploration of why suffering exists in a world created by a good and loving God.
A pivotal moment in the film occurs when Troy reflects on the death of her mother and states, "Then it's good she died, so she wouldn’t have to suffer." Troy's words reflect the grappling with the realities of suffering and death that people of all ages experience. Rather than simply accepting suffering as a divine mystery, Troy questions it, confronting the harshness of life as the innocent become subjected to pain and loss. Her statement reflects a theological reckoning with the question: How does one reconcile the existence of suffering with the goodness of God?
In Black girlhood theology, Troy’s exploration of suffering is significant. It challenges us to understand how Black girls—and particularly Black girls in marginalized communities—navigate the complexities of pain, injustice, and survival. Theodicy, in this context, becomes a critical conversation. Troy’s perspective is not one of passive endurance but an active search for meaning in the face of suffering. She speaks to the theological question of how to find God in the midst of trauma and loss, asserting that sometimes, for those who endure extreme suffering, death may be seen as a release, a form of mercy amid a reality that offers little hope for relief.
Troy’s compassionate reflection on suffering speaks to the resilience of Black girls and how their theology of suffering often involves seeking to make sense of pain in a world that is indifferent to their experiences. Her story calls for a theology that does not avoid difficult questions about suffering but confronts them head-on, helping Black girls navigate the complex relationship between pain, survival, and spiritual growth.
Brenda: The Theology of Hospitality and Service
In Tupac’s song “Brenda’s Got a Baby,” Brenda’s story unfolds as she faces an unplanned pregnancy at the age of 12, leading to a series of societal and familial failures. Despite her age, Brenda’s pregnancy pushes her into adulthood prematurely, as she becomes responsible for her child with little support or care.
Brenda’s situation illuminates the theology of hospitality and service—particularly as it relates to young Black girls who often bear burdens beyond their years. In Black girlhood theology, Brenda’s story calls us to examine how communities, especially faith communities, engage and serve young girls in crisis. Instead of condemning Brenda for the consequences of the choices that life has forced her to make, we are challenged to rethink how we provide hospitality to those in need. How do we offer care, mercy, and love to young girls like Brenda, in situations that no child should have to navigate?
Brenda’s narrative challenges us to rethink the very concept of hospitality. It is not merely about offering material resources but about creating a space where Black girls can be seen, heard, and supported without judgment. A theology of hospitality for Black girls involves creating environments where they can be nurtured, where their needs—emotional, physical, and spiritual—are met with compassion and understanding. Brenda’s story calls for a communal responsibility to care for and uplift young girls, providing them with the support they need to thrive.
A Theological Reclamation of Black Girlhood
The common thread that ties these three narratives together is the central theme of reclamation. Black girlhood theology challenges the historical, societal, and theological forces that have worked to diminish Black girls. It calls for a new vision of identity that acknowledges their struggles, celebrates their resilience, and affirms their worth.
In reclaiming these narratives, we are not just retelling the stories of Pecola, Troy, and Brenda. We are recognizing that their experiences reflect the larger struggles and triumphs of Black girls everywhere. They represent the pain of a community that has been oppressed, but also the power of a people who instead of staying down choose to bloom into something greater. Black girlhood theology is about reimagining what it means to be a Black girl, challenging the world to see them not through the lens of marginalization but through the lens of divine potential and promise.
The task for theologians, scholars, and faith communities alike is to continue to reclaim these narratives, not just to remember them but to use them as tools for liberation, healing, and empowerment. By doing so, we give Black girls the space and voice to define their own stories, standing in the truth of who they are and whose they are—beautiful, strong, and divinely created for greatness.
