Vanessa Bryant recently posted a meme that was supposed to be lighthearted. It featured Rihanna floating in the water, drink in hand, middle finger up, with the caption: “Me protecting my peace, not pregnant & having fun all summer.”

Despite the seemingly fun nature of the post, there was something more to it. Bryant was likely responding to an onslaught of recent pregnancy rumors, entirely based on internet speculation and wholly detached from fact. What was meant to be a cheeky way to shut down gossip turned into a bigger conversation. Why can’t society leave grieving women alone? More specifically, why are widowed women expected to perform grief indefinitely?

Bryant, who lost her husband, Kobe and their daughter Gianna in a devastating helicopter crash in 2020, has shown remarkable grace under public pressure. Yet, instead of being allowed the space to heal and live on her own terms, she’s constantly pulled into the court of public opinion. Unfortunately, she’s not alone. Lauren London, who lost rapper and activist Nipsey Hussle in 2019, is another woman who’s had to navigate public grief while dodging speculation about her love life. Whenever she has clarified that she’s not ready to date again, she’s praised for her loyalty, but beneath that praise is a troubling question. If she did want to date again, would many drag her for it?

It seems that we, as a society, put women’s pain on a pedestal while punishing their joy.

The Performance of Grief

There’s a societal script for widows, and it hasn’t changed much. Widows are supposed to grieve quietly but deeply, and if they ever smile again, it better be with reverence. They must remain permanently tethered to their loss to prove they really loved the person they lost.

For women in the spotlight, this performance of grief is compounded by unrealistic expectations. They are supposed to be strong, stoic, and self-sacrificing. They carry legacies, not just their own pain. When the man you loved was also a cultural icon, like Kobe or Nipsey, that pressure intensifies. These women aren’t just mourning partners; they’re seen as caretakers of legends.

But what happens when the world projects that legacy onto your body, your dating life, your every Instagram post? Bryant’s summer meme wasn’t just about shutting down pregnancy gossip. It was about reclaiming space to just be.

The Double Standard

When men lose their spouses, we often applaud them for “moving on” and “finding happiness again.” Think of widowers in politics, entertainment, or even sports. Most are encouraged to remarry. Their grief is acknowledged, but not weaponized.

Women, on the other hand, are put under a microscope. When they remain single, they’re seen as loyal. When they choose love again, they’re seen as disrespectful. This double standard shows up tenfold for women of color, whose choices are always policed more harshly.

Parasocial Control and Public Grief

Social media blurs the line between public figures and private lives. It creates parasocial relationships where fans feel overly connected, to the point of entitlement. People mourn celebrities deeply, and that grief often extends to their families. But instead of support, it can become surveillance.

Bryant and London represent more than themselves to the public; they represent ideals. Ideal women, love stories, and grief. When they deviate from that ideal, even in the slightest, they face backlash.

Here’s what rarely gets said: it is entirely possible to honor the past and embrace the future. Grief and joy can exist in the same space. You can cherish a lost love and still be open to new beginnings. You can protect someone’s legacy while also protecting your peace.

Vanessa Bryant’s response to the rumors wasn’t just a meme, it was a boundary. It said: I will not perform pain for your comfort. I will not put my body or my choices on trial. I am allowed to enjoy this life I’m still living.

We should all echo that energy.