So I apparently hit a nerve again.
The truth has a tendency to do that.
I took a break to focus on myself, to heal, to meditate, to relax, to listen to some Teddy Pendergrass and to focus on the changing atmosphere in Trump’s America. Hard times are coming and many of us are woefully unprepared.
I’ve gotten a slew of letters from blacks, whites, men and women, asking me for dialogue and what made me, of all people, come to this point in my life where I’m finally writing about this…
I have this uncanny ability to make people be at total ease. They tell me things about themselves. Their lives, their failures, their pain and their struggles. Over the past few years, I’ve sat and read and listened to black women say the same things over and over again like clockwork.
“It was my uncle that touched me…”
“My mother knew but did nothing to help…”
” My brother’s friend…”
“If only I hadn’t accepted his invitation to come over after school…”
I’ve read stories about the murders of women, who looked just like me, who were thrown in dumpsters behind their apartments, women who were burned with hot tea thrown in their faces by an irate lover, girlfriends that were beaten while pregnant and women who were attacked in dancehall clubs for simply saying to a black male, ” No thanks.”
I’ve listened to one black woman, IN PERSON, tell me over dinner that one night, her live-in boyfriend hit her so hard about the face that she developed tinnitus and is now on medication.
“He told me I’m an ugly bitch,” she says. “I’m the reason for his stress.”
I looked at this cinnamon-coloured, well-coiffed creature with her gentle English accent, her tiny button nose and full lips. Her short Afro and doe eyes made her look almost Elfin. Peter Jackson could have cast her in his movie and it would’ve seemed perfectly natural.
I wondered what kind of man would call her unattractive.
She continued with tales of how he is unable to hold on to any kind of work, sleeps late, always asks her for money and gets enraged when she recommends he go to an Employment Center to find work. She looks stressed, unhappy, deflated and older despite her youthful appearance. I listened to her, sipped my Riesling and allowed her to talk uninterrupted.
I remember watching on TV when black men were fighting for Civil Rights.
They marched, yelled, signed petitions, fought police officers, fought off the dogs and demanded equal rights. All they craved was fairness and equality they said. Black women were right there next to them in solidarity and full support getting blasted by the hoses and bitten right alongside them.
But something happened over the decades that black women never saw coming.
As black men won more rights, as they moved deeper into white society, as they gained more access to wealth, education and political power, they moved farther and farther away from the very women that helped them to achieve their goals.
Black women, as a collective, myself included, thought that once black males finally won the right to be apart of “Polite Society”, won the right to be “free” from bondage, they would take us with them. That they would show the world that yes, I’m fighting for Black Love, Black Power, the Black Family, the Black Child and ultimately, Black Survival.
But…the joke was on us.
As black men gained political traction, it was the fair-skinned, curly haired, ambiguous, light eyed, “My great, great uncle twice removed was 1/10th black” woman that stood by his side.
As they gained higher learning, earned degrees and trade school diplomas, it was the Spicy Latina with the thick, long, black hair, wide hips and saucy attitude that stood by his side.
As they gained more money and doors opened for them in better neighbourhoods, it was the fully white, blonde-haired, blue eyed, narrow hipped, thin lipped woman that enjoyed the monetary fruits of his labour. Til today, I can spot with ease white women with black husbands jogging at night in neighbourhoods where black women were once too afraid to walk alone.
Despite our best efforts to warn him that in a Patriarchal Society, a man MUST uplift the image of his mother. Otherwise, no matter how labourious his efforts, he will fail and become the laughingstock of other males. No matter how intense his speeches on Equality and his efforts for Reparations, not one person will take him seriously if he cannot provide for his women and children.
Despite our best efforts, despite our pleas, despite our warnings and temper tantrums, we failed.
When black women asked to stay at home and school our children to avoid the bone-crushing racism of the white female dominated Public Education System, he refused and called us lazy.
When we asked him to put down the picket signs, forget about being a social justice warrior and build with other black males to achieve Black Economics and thusly Political Power, he refused and called us Gold Diggers.
When we required him to marry us so our children would be legitimate and to avoid the stain of single motherhood, he refused and said we were trying to trap him.
When we asked him to love us in our natural state, he refused and called us ugly.
And finally, when we asked him why he doesn’t do what Mother Nature expects of ALL male creatures to do for their females, which is to provide, to build and then to protect his empire from predatory invaders, he looked at us and said:
“The white man won’t let me.”
“Aren’t we tired yet?”, one angry black woman asked me in a private letter last Christmas. “They told us our hair was too nappy, so we raced to the salon to straighten it. Then it was the fact that it wouldn’t grow as fast as other women’s hair. So we raced to the Asians for weaves and clip-ons. Then it was the issue that we’re too dark. So we bleached ourselves to the point that our skin stripped and we got cancer.
Then it was our butts aren’t big enough. So now we’re having butt surgery. Then it was the fact that we’re not kinky enough like white girls. So now we’re throwing our p***y in cameras and showing them how sexually ratchet we can be. Then it was that we’re too educated and we make them feel dumb. So we said “fuck school, I’ll just hang out with you all day.”
“And you know what? It’s STILL not good enough. The goal post is always changing! And all we do is jump from one foot to the other fucking foot and it’s never enough! How come no other woman is expected to break her back for a man? Isn’t the female supposed to be the Prize to be won? Isn’t that what nature wanted? The womb is the prize. The vagina is the prize, isn’t it? Men are supposed to prove that they are worthy of it BEFORE we give it to them.
I’m with an Asian man now. He’s a Filipino and very family oriented. At first, if was so different being with this brown-skinned, short man. He spoke with a different accent, ate different foods and had a different culture. But you know what? He’s a family man. They have meals together, talk over political issues and they have accepted me as their own. We’re talking about marriage when he finishes his Nursing Degree and gets a good paying job. I know my future children will look different from me. They’ll still be brown with “negroid features”. Just a different variation of brown with slanted eyes…and I’m fine with that. ”
This letter came from a pro-black, fist in the air, “the white man is the Devil”, black woman.
Her final statement to me:
“If you want a better chance of getting married and having a real family structure, black women had better start thinking about dating out of their race.”
An esteemed blogger wrote to me privately:
“Watch…in the next few years, we’re gonna see black men all over the TV, the radio, in movies and magazines promoting and celebrating black love and how beautiful black women are, especially those with natural hair and dark skin. But it won’t work. What’s done is done…”
A private letter from a white man:
“I’m baffled by the utter disrespect. I mean, white women are no prizes to be honest. They’re selfish, lazy, entitled and very childlike. They treat us like walking ATM machines. But I would never blast them the way black men do you. That’s just wrong. When I wanted out, I filed for divorce and moved on to another woman. Now I’m in a happy place. Also, what does that say about your self-esteem that you continue to take it? I hope that you’re not going to curse me out but I just had to say something.”
In the future, after Trump’s Presidency is long over, after the economy has fallen and the movie, The Hunger Games has taken place, black people will look at themselves and ask, “What the hell happened to us.”
How is it that we’ve been in this country for so damn long and have nothing to show for it?
How is it possible that immigrants who speak NO ENGLISH have surpassed us and left us in last place?
How is it possible that the black child continues to inherit dust?
And finally, what role did I play in our own destruction?
The purpose of life is to grow, to learn, to heal and to understand.
My anger at the White System has (almost) faded and now my understanding is at a completely different level. When the Great Mother changes her system and we REFUSE to adapt, she allows us an opportunity to see things her way. To conform to her will. She does this because she loves us with all her heart.
But when that window of time closes and we still refuse to adapt, she simply begins to take you out.
There’s a name for that:
It is very real.
It is very potent.
And it’s happening right before our very eyes.
Say what you will about me.
Call me dirty names.
Spread lies about what you think you know about me…
That I’m an agent. A spy. A black man hater. A lesbian. A nappy headed immigrant that needs to go home.
I honestly do not give a fuck. I write for me. I write for my soul and my Spirit and my mind and my heart. And no one tells my story except for me.
All I truly desire for my beautiful people is to be free from this Matrix and to thrive.
But remember that I warned you:
Once the WOMB is gone from a Tribe, the Tribe dies.
This post will be heavily moderated. I may allow comments and I may not. I may write again and I may not.
If you don’t like it, then fuck off.