The Black Woman Statue In Times Square Puts Truth On Display—Some Of Y’all Can’t Handle It

A 12-foot-tall bronze statue in Times Square is revealing exactly what people feel about Black women. Some folks on social media have called the statue “disrespectful,” “fat, Black and ugly” and even “monstrous.” Others have even likened its features to the racist mammy trope that dominated media during the Jim Crow era.

The commentary has been alarming and unfortunate. It felt like there was a bigger issue at play, so I decided to go see the statue myself.

Thomas J. Price’s Grounded in the Stars sculpture stands between West 46th Street and West 47th Street in one of the most iconic tourist destinations in the world. Facing north, she towers over two statues of white men  — Catholic priest Francis P. Duffy and playwright George M. Cohan — at the top and bottom ends of the block. (It’s worth noting, both are permanent fixtures while Grounded in the Stars will be on display until June 17.)

With a proud posture and hands on her hips, the structure is a headturner. Unveiled on April 29, she’s an unidealized fictional character in plain clothes with a vacant stare and undoubtedly Black facial features. Her ease is meant to give a “subtle nod to Michelangelo’s David” and disrupt “traditional ideas around what defines a triumphant figure and challenges who should be rendered immortal through monumentalization.”

But according to societal standards, she represents three things that no one dares to be, lest be treated lesser: fat, Black and a woman. And because of that, much of the online debate surrounding the statue has sparked conversation rooted in misogynoir, elitism, fatphobia and just plain hate.

Many of those loud and wrong critics are the usual suspects: conservatives who also believe diversity, equity and inclusion efforts are unnecessary and racist trolls who have used AI to turn the statue into a racist caricature. They’ve even dubbed her an “angry Black woman" despite her neutral facial expression. Even an inanimate sculpture representing a Black woman gets hit with stereotypical projections. There’s no surprise here.

Some of the most disappointing commentary, however, has been from Black social media users. In a now deleted video, TikToker @imjustagirl2 called the statue “monstrous.” Meanwhile Black men debated the depiction of the statue representing a plus-sized woman, calling it “disgusting” on livestreams and timelines.

An anonymous person has even started a petition calling for the statue’s removal, stating that Black women have become targets of hate and bullying since it was erected. 

“Unlike the graceful and dignified portrayals often seen in public art of women from other backgrounds, this statue presents a distorted image of Black women that promotes harmful stereotypes rather than inspiring pride or respect,” reads the petition, which has more than 1,000 signatures.

Over the span of 30 minutes, I saw something very different. I watched as a diverse array of tourists took photos of and with the statue, some even adopting her pose. The only sign of mockery came from three Black teens who laughed as they snapped photos of and with the statue.

Masani Grayson Stark, a Bronx native who visited the statue on Tuesday, called it “dope” and said “It seems like the meaning is flying over people’s heads.” Her only critique? “I don’t want to be grounded. I want to be flying amongst the stars.” Another passerby, Carl Ebanks, took a selfie with the statue and praised the statue for representing “a regular, beautiful Black woman.”

A group of Black women on vacation from London and Manchester made Grounded in the Stars a priority on their sightseeing, along with the Statue of Liberty.

“[She’s] confident and very sure about who she is and where she stands in this place and time,” Barbara Lopez, from London said. “I see this woman as ‘yes, I’m Black, I’m proud, I can do anything I put my mind to and there’s nothing you can tell me that I can’t. And so I stand here to show you all that I won.’” 

Her friend, Josephine Burg, emphasized the significance of her being in Times Square, especially at a time when Black culture and identity are being downplayed and erased by both federal and corporate entities. “This shows that America needs to embrace all cultures. Me being from South Africa and I see this, it hits very close to my heart. We seem to be undermined,” she said.

Seeing the statue and the real-time responses to it made it even more evident that this sculpture isn’t a caricature, nor is it a misrepresentation of Black women. Price constructed the art “from images, observations and open calls spanning between Los Angeles and London.” Real Black women are proudly seeing themselves in this art and claiming space in a way that doesn’t demand permission. And while art is subjective, the online discourse carries real implications for real people. 

The statue looks like somebody’s mother, somebody’s daughter, somebody’s aunt. She looks like somebody. But the way people are talking about this statue isn’t just about the statue. These are the ideas they hold about real everyday Black women who haven’t asked for anyone’s validation or approval. Yet some folks are trying their damnedest to invalidate that experience and shame Black women for not only existing outside Eurocentric beauty standards but also into believing they aren’t deserving of being seen unless they’re shapely, hair slayed for the gods and smiling.

We know that we aren’t a monolith, but to look at this statue and not recognize someone in your life — or even yourself — is telling and that says more about you than the art. Though calling for its removal or admonishing it may bring some people satisfaction, the real issue here runs deeper. With or without this statue, people are still anti-Black women, especially if they don’t fit within a specific parameter of beauty standards. 

There’s victory in this statue’s very existence. Not only because it disrupts traditional ideas of what a sculpture should be, but also because regardless of the conversation surrounding it, Grounded in the Stars still stands proudly.

“They’re not looking to engage or for validation,” the artist told Interview Magazine of his work in 2016. “They exist whether or not the viewer is there.”

It’s true that Black women still, in 2025, don’t have an adequate amount of images that represent the full spectrum of who we are. But a part of humanizing us has to be rooted in the mundane and unglamorous, too. Because we are here. And that, in and of itself, is glorious.