When Jazzmin Pitts founded Healed Black Women in 2021, she didn’t act out of ambition—she responded to necessity. As she navigated her own healing journey in isolation, Pitts did the deep, emotional work alone. “I was facing my pain, unlearning habits, and trying to grow—but I had no support system,” she recalled. That solitude stirred a powerful longing within her—to create a space where Black women could show up fully as themselves—vulnerable, raw, and unfiltered—and receive compassion, not critique.
So, she built it.
Healed Black Women became more than a community—it became a sanctuary, a sacred place where Black women name their wounds without shame, rebuild self-trust, and reconnect with their authentic selves. Pitts rooted the organization in a core truth: emotional healing isn’t meant to be a private battle—it’s a shared, collective journey. She centered the work around emotional restoration and generational empathy, guiding women to transmute deep childhood wounds into powerful pathways of liberation.
Pitts began her own healing in a college psychology class, where she took a simple quiz on attachment theory. What started as a classroom exercise struck a deep chord. “The results were like a mirror,” she said. “I saw the guarded woman I had become—and for the first time, I understood how she got there.” That moment cracked something open. She recognized that many Black women carried similar invisible burdens—defense mechanisms rooted in unmet childhood needs and often anchored in the mother wound.
At Healed Black Women, Pitts starts at the root. She teaches women how early caregiver relationships shape emotional responses, trust, and vulnerability. Many who enter the space don’t know how to name their emotions—they’ve learned to suppress needs or question their own instincts. But through a layered process of education, emotional regulation tools, deep reflection, and collective witnessing, they begin to come home to themselves.
Today, Pitts calls herself The Attachment Healer—a title born from her own transformation and her mission to help others reclaim their inner child. She grounds her work in the practice of generational empathy—learning to see caregivers through a compassionate lens, recognizing that they, too, were shaped by wounds they never healed. “When I began to see my mother not just as the woman who hurt me, but as someone shaped by pain—it softened something in me,” she explained. “It allowed space for compassion, and that changed our relationship.”
She doesn’t excuse harm—but she does create space for understanding. And that’s where healing begins. Pitts invites others to ask themselves: “What did my caregivers believe about love? About emotions? About safety?” These questions don’t just dissolve shame—they open the door to true liberation.
Pitts doesn’t claim to have it all figured out even as a founder, mother, student, and advocate. “There are moments I feel stretched thin,” she admitted. But she now listens to her body and treats self-care as essential, not optional. Whether painting, visiting a museum, resting in stillness, or laughing with her daughters—she puts herself on her own calendar. “Balance isn’t always present,” she says. “But grace? I give myself that every day.”
On July 13, Pitts will launch her debut book, Healing Your Hidden Child: From Guarded to Grounded—a soulful blend of memoir and guidebook that offers readers a map to their own healing. That same day, she will host Rhythmic Reflection: Harmony in Healing—a community gathering filled with sound healing, movement, storytelling, and wellness vendors. “It’s not just an event,” she said. “It’s an experience—meant to open the heart and awaken the senses.”
Looking ahead, Pitts is growing Healed Black Women through school partnerships, curriculum-based programs, community collaborations, and an upcoming podcast focused on emotional healing and cultural identity in Black communities. Her vision remains clear and bold: to make emotional healing not just accessible—but normalized—in Black spaces.
What could shift if more Black women felt seen, supported, and safe enough to be real?
What might change if we healed together instead of hurting in silence?
With Healed Black Women, Pitts continues to answer those questions—one story, one sister, one soul at a time. This isn’t just an organization. It’s a movement, a mirror, a ministry, and a radiant reminder that we are never alone in our healing.
Learn more at www.hbwomen.org/
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