This photo was taken in 1900.
At first glance, some mistook her for a servant — a nanny, maybe a maid. But they couldn’t have been more wrong.
The woman in front was Ella Abomah Williams, known on stage as Madame Abomah — and she wasn’t just tall. She was a towering figure of power, pride, and myth.
Born in South Carolina in the late 19th century, she stood over 7 feet tall — and was often said to descend from the legendary Dahomey Amazons, the all-female warriors of West Africa who protected kings and led armies.
But in the eyes of the colonial world, she became a sideshow.
The British press called her a “dark-skinned beauty,” writing about her like she was a curiosity to be gawked at. They paraded her through Europe as the “African Giantess,” never stopping to see the woman behind the myth.
But Ella carried herself with dignity. Dressed in fine gowns, speaking several languages, and commanding attention wherever she went — not because she was strange, but because she was magnificent.
She turned their stage into her own throne.
History forgot her, as it so often does with Black women who were too bold, too powerful, too ahead of their time.
But today, we remember.
Not as a novelty.
Not as a sideshow.
But as a symbol of strength.
