She wasn’t a maid. She wasn’t a nanny. She was a 6"10 bodyguard to a king — and the world refused to see her. 📸 Europe, circa 1900. A towering Black woman stands before the camera — poised, regal, unshaken. History looked at her and made a lazy decision. Servant, they said. Because what else could a Black woman be? But the truth is far more dangerous. Her name was Ella Abomah Williams, also known as Madame Abomah. She was born into the legacy of one of the most feared military forces the world has ever known: the Dahomey Amazons, the elite all-female warrior regiment of the Kingdom of Dahomey (present-day Benin). These were not ceremonial women. They were soldiers. Strategists. Protectors of kings. And Abomah carried that lineage in her bones. Accounts from the era claimed she stood well over seven feet tall, could lift a grown man with one arm, and was trained in combat and weapons. When she traveled with royalty, she did not follow behind. She stood in front. She was not decoration. She was defense. But when colonial Europe encountered her power, it did what it always did. It reduced it. Photographers stripped her of context. Newspapers erased her history. Instead of warrior, they called her a curiosity. Instead of protector, they sold her as spectacle. British papers advertised her with headlines like: “This dark-skinned beauty will soon visit our major cities.” A cruel sentence for a woman whose life was built on sovereignty and strength. They obsessed over her height. Ignored her training. Praised her appearance. Erased her purpose. Because to the colonial gaze, Black greatness was never meant to be understood — only displayed. Madame Abomah toured Europe, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States. Crowds stared. Gasps followed. Money was made. But the truth was never told. That she came from warriors. That she had protected kings. That her very existence shattered European fantasies of Black inferiority. Today, her photograph circulates online without context. No caption. No story. Just another unnamed Black face floating through history. But look again. That is not a novelty. That is not a servant. That is a warrior in her finest dress. A protector standing at ease. A woman whose presence defied everything her era tried to impose. Ella Abomah Williams deserved to be remembered not for how she looked — but for who she was: A guardian of power. A survivor of erasure. A legend hidden in plain sight. ✨ Sometimes the strongest heroes are the ones history worked hardest to silence. And sometimes, reclaiming their names is an act of resistance. ✨ These stories are created with care, time, and research. If you’d like to help support this work, you can do so here:
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