I love finding gems of wisdom sprinkled amongst the talented populace of the X chromosome.
Arielle Loren writes about female masculinity and how we are socialized to narrowly define beauty in very specific hyper-feminine terms. Take a gander on her site.
Related: Venus Genus
Related: Womanhood, it ain’t all about bouncing breasts and jiggling booties
Related: To be honest, you gotta live honestly
Related: The stupid BS some guys do
34. I can hear and use language bitches and hoes that demean women, with virtually no opposition from men.June 30, 2010 at 11:40 AM | Posted in As A Man, Don't be a Dummy, Education, Hear me ROAR! | 5 Comments
Editor’s Note: I found this gem on The Beautiful Struggler, Sister Toldja’s brilliant brainchild. She discusses “Black Male Privilege” and references writer Jewel Woods who published his controversial “Black Male Privilege Checklist”. The article started a hearty e-mail discussion among my friends. Numbers 27 and 34 on the checklist, “I come from a tradition of humor that is based largely on insulting and disrespecting women; especially mothers.” “I can hear and use language bitches and hoes that demean women, with virtually no opposition from men.” with virtually no opposition from men. with virtually no opposition from men spoke VOLUMES to me. Oh, yes it did. I have too much fire in my belly about the topic especially when it is expounded to the intricacies and nuances of ideology and sex and sexuality in popular culture . I had to turn this one into a post.
“I come from a tradition of humor that is based largely on insulting and disrespecting women…”
I am an advocate for loving and accepting your body, your curves, your voluptuousness but when the physical is ALL that is seen, as the inevitable trajectory of the street harasser follows, then you are made to feel bitterly ashamed of your own body. And you hate the person who viewed you only as an object. (Do we even call them “people,” because by removing my humanity you have consequently obliterated yours.)
This is the most apparent black male privilege that women are forced to live with every time we set foot outside our door. Doesn’t matter the day, season, time or outfit. A comment is made, or God forbid an action is always carried out. I can bet my lunch money for the next 60 years on that.
…”With virtually no opposition from men.” It astonishes me that “grown men” don’t get it. “Oh you enjoy it.” “Oh you’ll wish they still did it when you’re older.” The chauvinistic rationale some use is most definitely “the black male privilege.” The fact is I am looking forward for those days when I am viewed as more than a vessel. Is that not a basic human necessity? If the world at large, a cruel one at that, acknowledges if you are not born a white male your strike sheet is automatically marred then why can’t I catch a break from this “privilege” at least?
Continue Reading 34. I can hear and use language bitches and hoes that demean women, with virtually no opposition from men….
Oh hi, while you were objectifying me, I just wanted to let you know, I can walk AND talk too! Sometimes, simultaneously!June 28, 2010 at 5:50 PM | Posted in Ah C'mon!, As A Man, Hear me ROAR!, Higher Definition | 7 Comments
Beeb was holding my hand. It was blazing hot on 125th street. I was disgruntled at the brunch menu at one restaurant and insisted the scant selections just wouldn’t do. In case you didn’t know. I eat. A lot. So we made our way to the car chatting and laughing. Suddenly, a deafening voice cut through our merriment. “YO!!!!! I gotta give your props son, and no disrespect either… I have to give you your props.” Hmmmm, you’re probably saying oh ok, he’s complimenting Beeb’s shirt or shoes. Yes, that would make perfect sense…he’s giving credit to another man on acquiring a great article of clothing. Nope, he’s talking about his other property, his woman. For the span of 40 seconds on that public Harlem sidewalk, I might as well had been as inanimate as clothing because to that guy, Beeb deserved respect for acquiring me. He was enjoying the display and wanted to give his due credit.
Our blank stares, wagging heads and newly brisk gait did nothing to deter his foul rhetoric. My ears bled. My blood boiled. We kept it moving. I joked how it sounded like the guy had a full megaphone set installed in his car, well actually his friends car, because he was on the passenger side. Of course. His despicable voice was loudly obnoxious. The entire block heard his offensive words, judging from the squinted foreheads and whiplashed necks. No doubt, I give Beeb credit for being an awesome person who happens to click with me, but his supposed “props” was based on misogynist principles. Didn’t that megaphone fool ever listen to Tupac?
“And since we all came from a woman,
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman…
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it’s time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
Continue Reading Oh hi, while you were objectifying me, I just wanted to let you know, I can walk AND talk too! Sometimes, simultaneously!…
I have heard this mantra time and time again. It got me thinking, at what point does money trump integrity, morals and beliefs? At what point do we stop caring about what is right for what is green?
“Oh my Gawd, I can’t believe my former pastor is now a stripper.” Oh well, she making dat money.” HUH?
Editor’s Note: My friend was on facebook and found this little gem of perspective and enlightenment…
I wear them. Have been an avid fan since I was able to but them with money I earned. What makes them different than any other stocking with a pattern? I even wear them to work with knee-length skirt and longer. I think they are absolutely fine to wear. Anywhere.
I do it. You do it. What the f*$@ is the problem?
As I’ve said before here, “singledom” is not a sickness, condition, or disease. Sometimes it is a choice, it is a lifestyle, it can even be a way of thinking. I call it the joie de vivre. What makes a person in a relationship more happy than me? Get over it already.
5 inch heels
I love heels. I love love LOVE them. Why? Many reasons, but it seems like anytime I wear my customary 5 inches I’m met with gasps and agape mouths and the culprits are mostly women. “How can you walk in those?” they exclaim. One foot in front of the other. Genius.
Continue Reading Unfairly stigmatized…
Editor’s Note: I don’t date men with kid(s). Period. Here’s why.
5. Your baby mama
Does this really need an explanation?
4. I don’t like kids
Yea, kids are fun, cute, and they say the darndest things. I don’t like ‘em. I can do without ‘em. I’m sure I’ll like my kids. Maybe not. But I know I will definitely love them. Because I kinda sorta have to.
3. You’re at a stage in your life that I am not even close to.
Whether or not we’re the same age, you now have responsibilities I cannot empathize with, you are a father. You are responsible for another life. The only life I am responsible for, is mine.
2. I don’t care about little Ashley’s play
Conversation about your child is inevitable and to be frank, I really don’t care. I don’t really want to hear about a child that I have no connection to.
Continue Reading You have a child sir? This date is over…
Editor’s Note: I really wanted to stay away from this topic. I really really did. Why? Simply put. I think it’s silly. But everyone and their third cousin has been asking me my opinion on the topic so I’ll express it here. At about 4:28 minutes in homegirl in the purple shirt says “No, I don’t do that” in reference to being opposed to asking a man that she liked for his number. I will now analyze and dissect the story that she told and her response in correlation to her future as a cat-lady.
Um excuse me?? “You don’t DOOOO that?” Hi, have you met yourself, yea, you! you’re the single girl on the ABC special I’m watching. This must be a joke! A complete joke! This lady is crying that she’s single yet she “doesn’t “do that?” Helllooo????!!!! That’s why you’re single. Is that connection so damn hard to fathom?
The thing that blows my mind to bits is these women seem like they genuinely want to find love and happiness in love but they sure aren’t acting like it. If I want to lose weight but I lay around everyday eating twinkies, ring dings, ho-hos, and star crunches mushed into chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with a large fry, chocolate shake and Big Mac to wash it down before a large pizza desert, will I lose weight? Hell to NO! (Sounds like a Sunday Funday plan though) So if you’re looking for love but are reluctant to put yourself out there, are you going to find love? Methinks not. Look at the bigger picture. Sure, that woman may feel awkward for the 2.5 seconds it takes to ask this wonderful Caucasian gentleman she was vibing with for his number but what happens after that? They exchange numbers and can then see if a fruitful relationship manifests. The alternative is the same position she’s in. Lonely. And complaining to complete strangers like me who don’t give a hell.
This lady still has SILLY rules about approaching a man at 34. There’s the problem. A wise man once told me to get the results you’re not getting, do something you’re not doing. Whether that means, changing the places you meet men, changing your demeanor or (that stank face you always have on), it’s about doing something different so you achieve different and more preferable results. So obviously since she doesn’t “do that” she will never get married. The act of asking a man for his number is not brazen, it’s not slutty, it’s showing your interest in an effort to be un-single. Let’s keep it funky here, the woman ain’t no spring chicken. Beautiful woman, but no spring chicken. Looks fade. Loneliness doesn’t. And intelligent women can discern that.
Editor’s note: I had a revelation today.
I hop on the M4, on my way home today. It’s Friday, feeling good and looking forward to a weekend of fundraising and helping in relief efforts. I maneuver my way through the afternoon crowd on the bus to the middle of the bus find a seat, plop down and grab my book out of my bag. As soon as the book hit my lap I hear a an angry voice scream, ” CAN YOU TAKE YOUR BAG HANDLE OUT OF MY BACK!!!!!” Extremely nasty, and extremely unwarranted. I had no clue my bag handle decided to beat the hell out of her. It was honestly unbeknownst to me that any part of my bag was even touching her, but clearly this bag assault seemed to have ruined her life from the sounds of it. So I obliged this lady but I was absolutely incredulous. As a woman and citizen of the world I had to let the screecher know her attitude was uncalled for. In my most even-toned voice I retorted, “Well you didn’t have to be so rude about it.” I then cracked open my book and instantly became engrossed as she turned around and screeched, “EXCUSE ME, WHAT DID YOU SAY???, WHAT DID YOU SAY? YOU SAID I’M RUDE? YOU’RE THE ONE WHO HAD YOUR PURSE IN MY BACK, YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT RUDE IS.” She turned to the person sitting to her, who didn’t even bat an eye at her, for support to continue her diatribe. ‘CAN YOU BELIEVE HER??? WHAT…BLAH BLAH BLAH..” for literally, 3 minutes on a crowded bus of people. I wanted no parts of her insidious rant so I remained engrossed in my book and let her show just how crazy she was by yelling at no one. At least no one that was interested in entertaining her childish foolishness.
When I got off the bus I wondered, why the anger, lady? Why was her initial response rancor? Why did she feel compelled to talk to another human being with such venom? A simple, “Your bag is in my back,” would have done the trick. I didn’t know her from a ham sandwich. Did she think I had a personal vendetta against ladies that wear furry hats and glasses and the only way to satisfy this need for blood was to go around on buses jabbing people in the back with my purse handle? Why is it in a city as huge and as crowded as New York, you think you would be exempt from having another person’s property touch you? I’ve seen people fall asleep on subway on the shoulder of the person they’re sitting next to. I didn’t see that unlucky person lash out in the same manner as this lady did. Apparently being assaulted by a purse warranted such a brute reaction. Why would she debase herself and look like a raving lunatic on a bus full of people? Was it worth it? Did it require all of that?
My response is no. Her response would probably be a resounding screech of YES!!! My father’s response was “poor thing.” I paused. “Huh?” He said “She doesn’t know any better.” I thought that was a valid point, but don’t we learn how to speak to others in uh…kindergarten? As aforementioned, her ravings were to no avail because my book was way more important than some crazy lady on the bus. But it sincerely breaks my heart that people like her are the representation for people that look like me. The good, is seldom remembered as much as the bad. So as super-human as Michelle Obama is, the crazy lady in the furry hat screaming on the bus is what people are going to think of when they see my brown face.