The Bar Was Too Low? Dear Strong Woman, You Can Rest Now

The bar was too low. That was the phrase that kept popping up on tiktok, as Kenyan women shared stories that were equal parts heartbreaking and eye-opening. One woman wrote, “ The bar was too low, I bought land in his name because he said it would motivate him to work harder. Today, I’m renting while he built a house with another woman.” Another recounted how she paid her boyfriend’s university fees, only for him to disappear after graduation. “He said he needed space to find himself,” she wrote, “but found himself married a year later.”

Across the continent, similar stories echo. In Nigeria, a woman narrated how she funded her partner’s start-up from her small business savings, believing in their shared dream. “I was his investor, secretary, cheerleader, and therapist,” she said. “When money finally came, he said I wasn’t ‘classy enough’ for his new life.” In South Africa, another woman admitted she covered rent and car payments for three years while her partner “looked for opportunities.” When he eventually landed a job, she learned about it from social media, through his engagement post to someone else.

These stories don’t come from weak or naive women; they come from women who were raised to believe in love, loyalty, and building together. They come from the “strong African woman” archetype, the one who endures, forgives, and provides. But strength, for many, has become a burden they never signed up for.

For decades, women have been told that their ability to hold their homes together, no matter what, is a sign of honour. A “good woman,” they say, is the one who stands by her man through thick and thin, even when thin stretches on for years. So, women have picked up extra shifts, sold belongings, and silenced their own exhaustion in the name of patience. Some have even prayed for their partner’s success more than their own.

Yet the reality is sobering, when success finally comes, too many men forget the hands that held them when they had nothing. It’s a painful pattern that’s played out quietly for generations, but social media has given these women a voice. Their stories are not just about heartbreak; they’re about waking up from a collective illusion, that love must always mean labour.

This conversation matters, because it’s about more than relationships; it’s about the examples we set for our children. Daughters are watching their mothers “stay strong” through neglect, and sons are learning that being cared for is their right, not their responsibility. The cycle continues in silence, until someone decides to unlearn it.

The truth is, strength shouldn’t mean suffering. Partnership shouldn’t look like one person building while the other benefits. In a healthier vision of love, both partners show up, equally, willingly and with respect. The women who once called themselves “strong” are slowly rewriting that definition. Strength now means walking away when you’re constantly being drained. It means refusing to carry someone who won’t walk beside you.

Maybe the bar isn’t too low anymore; maybe, finally, women are just done bending to fit beneath it.

So, dear strong woman, please rest!