When I was growing up, the men in my family all had skills. They built homes, laid down steel foundations, they cooked, worked 2 and 3 jobs and provided, as best as they could, for their families. Was life hard?
Being black and male wasn’t easy. But they did what they could. I remember my uncle looking for work in another state to keep food on his family’s table. I remember my brother, being young, running home from school to toil on the neighbour’s farm.
All around me were men. Not males. MEN. I felt safe. Secure. I used to jump rope all around the block and never gave one thought to anything bad happening. I kept my femininity all throughout my entire life and it attracted men of all sorts that enjoyed it. As I grew and traveled, I became aware of how different the black community was in comparison to other communities.
Women of other communities were carefree. They jogged at night. Roller bladed through parks with their dogs. Met friends for coffee and went to spa’s to get their hair, nails and eyebrows done. Some had housekeeper’s that came once a week and the very well off had Farm-to-Table Chefs that prepared “organic” meals. I met one white female from the Upper East Side that had a Jamaican nanny that did most of the work raising her child.
These women looked happy, They looked fit. Some even had plastic surgery to correct “flaws”.
Then I looked at the black female community throughout the Diaspora.
We looked fat. Unkempt. Hostile. Angry. Depressed. Our hair was a Goddamn mess with missing hairlines and ridiculous looking wigs and weaves. Long eagle-like fingernails with too much fake jewelry adorned our hands. Our clothes were ill fitting and out of proportion for our bodies, and let us not forget the HORDES of bastard children that clung to us.
The once mighty black woman who birthed an entire nation was raggedy and disheveled. We are now poor and getting poorer by the generations. We have almost ZERO collective wealth and the strain of raising children by ourselves in a black hating world have taken a toll on our mental health. We are now insane.
The black woman is now a train wreck to be used and abused then discarded like a snot-filled Kleenex. But, as my mind works, I sit down to ponder why. What has happened to us? Why are we the scourge of the entire universe? What is the missing piece of the puzzle that we cannot, or won’t, connect?
That brings me to my point.
What is Femininity?
Femininity is a softness. It’s a relaxation. It’s a gracefulness. It’s unhurried. It is a knowing feeling that if you fall, you will be caught. It is a sweet, genuine surrender to the unknown. This is what makes Masculinity thrive. The two cannot exist without the other.
Now, being Feminine has nothing to do with fatness or shortness. It’s not about being pretty with the right shade of lipstick. A female bodybuilder can be feminine. It is a characteristic that is CREATED for you from birth by the men in your tribe so you, the female, can flourish.
So then, what is Masculinity?
Masculinity is the exact opposite.
It has naught to do with physical strength. It has naught to do with penis size. It’s not about how many women you can sex. It’s not about your income. It’s not about having swag. Or about being able to dance. It’s not about getting girls pregnant. Or wearing the latest designer shoes that your community didn’t manufacture. It’s not about being labeled handsome. Sexy. Hunky. Fuckable.
Masculinity is about being able to foster a safe environment for the most important people in your life. It’s about being able to give your woman, your children and your community all the provisions so they can lead the next generation.
I sometimes think about that young girl at McDonald’s who was assaulted by that white man who nearly dragged her over the counter. I secretly cried when I watched that video. I felt her every emotion. I also know why he felt that he could do that in a black establishment as opposed to a Mexican one. I think about things that like a lot nowadays.
The time has come for black women throughout the Diaspora to begin making changes in their lives. I feel a radical sense of urgency that time is short. I hope you can feel it too for your sake. Remember what the esteemed Dr. Baruti said in one lecture:
“There is no written law anywhere in the Universe that states that the black race MUST survive.”
Please sit and resonate with this quote. And before I close out:
Donald Trump will get reelected in about 8 weeks and Judge Ginsberg is no longer with us. I do hope you understand what is coming.