There was a refrain we heard again and again from the seven Black women NPR talked with for this story.

“It is exhausting,” says Venita Doggett, who lives in Memphis, Tenn., and works for a nonprofit doing education advocacy.

“We’re tired. We’re damn tired,” another woman told us. She asked NPR not to use her name because she works in Diversity, Equity and Inclusion at a public university in Minnesota, and she fears that a lot of people who work in and around DEI are being targeted right now.

This feeling of being under threat as a Black person, as a woman, and especially as a Black woman feels non-stop, she says, even before the presidential election.

“On November 6th, I was exhausted. I didn’t realize how much it felt like I was holding my breath.”

According to the Pew Research Center, 84% of Black women are Democrats or lean that way. Black women voted for Vice President Kamala Harris in high numbers this year; exit polls show their support at over 90%. Now, many of them are grieving the loss of a candidate who would have been the nation’s first Black, female president. At the same time they are bracing themselves for what might happen under the second presidency of Donald Trump.

The woman from Minnesota says there’s constant pressure to engage politically, an unrelenting narrative that Black women will save democracy. But she asks, who is going to save Black women?

“Thinking about this demand of Black women to step up to the plate and do this work always without wavering. And I’m, you know — there’s going to be some wavering.”

Venita Doggett in her backyard garden in Memphis, Tenn., on Nov. 26.

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She says she’s found herself pulling back a little after the election, spending time with her family, with her community, and with herself.

“In a world that often boxes us in and beats us down, we can’t act like we’re not bruised,” she says. “We have to take care of ourselves. We have to tend to our wounds.”

“You definitely hate Black women”

Doggett went to sleep early on election night. She says she just didn’t want to watch.

“I got up and saw the headline that he had won, that Trump had won. And I was just despondent,” Doggett says.

“I also told my advocate friends that I had the audacity to hope, and I am mad at myself for having it.”

“Wednesday evening, I broke.” She says Trump winning the popular vote felt personal.

“I just thought, like, you definitely hate Black women,” she says, referring to the many people who voted for Trump, and against Harris. “You really hate us. Us, who essentially birthed the nation literally out of our bodies — snatched children out of our wombs to build the U.S.”

But it’s not just Black people she’s worried about now, she says. A lot of her teenage daughter’s friends come from immigrant mixed-status families, and with Trump’s plans for mass deportations, she says she is terrified for them.

“Is that the legacy of fear that we want to impart upon people,” she asks. “And why are we okay with it?”

Grief, betrayal and moving forward

“I probably really have not processed the grief yet,” Bonita Buford says. Buford is the CEO of the Gantt Center for African-American Arts and Culture in Charlotte, N.C.

“Maybe it’s hope that I’m mourning,” she says. “Maybe it was a little kind of disappointment in humanity.”

Buford says she also feels betrayed, especially by white women voters.

Bonita Buford, President of the Harvey B. Gantt Center for African-American Arts and Culture, stands for a portrait at the Gantt Center on Nov. 26 in Charlotte, N.C.

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“When you think about white women specifically, who were voting early and talking about, you know, ‘well, I voted for her… I’m not going to tell my husband.’ So, were those all lies?” she asks.

According to exit polls conducted by Edison Research, 53% of white women voters picked Trump this year. The same poll showed more Latinos and Black men also voted for him than in previous elections. Still, the majority of Latinos and Black men voted for Harris.

Buford says right now she’s focusing on what she can do. She says her work leading a Black arts organization is more important than ever. Art can disarm people, she says.

“I sometimes say it’s a sneaky way to make change.”

Doggett says as a Black woman, it sometimes does not feel like she has time to rest, let alone grieve.

She fears Black women and other historically marginalized communities will be most impacted by Trump and his allies’ proposed policies, from education to policing.

“There’s just a lot of burnout.”

She says she is turning to family and friends to recharge. She’s thinking about what outfit she will wear to a “friendsgiving,” and about which show to binge watch over the holiday.

“I spent a lot of time in my garden,” Doggett says. “I don’t know any other place except to find solace in the world that, you know, the land — that has given birth to us all. “

“At the end of the day, if there’s still some light out, I’ll go outside and just sit and stare at the flowers.”

NPR producer Walter Ray Watson contributed reporting.