Tribute to Black Women: The Daughters of Dark Sorrow

Today was a big day for me to reflect.  Seems I’ve done quite a bit of that lately. 25 years ago, March was officially recognized in the United States as Women’s History Month.  Now, mind you, prior to March 2, 1974, I never had any contact with a woman (if I was born 40 weeks after conception, March 2, 1974 is the magical day/night)… OK let me space out for a second, I’m a FREAK, and so I’m hoping Big Sam and my fast Mama (for a later post but not what you think) got busy in a car, the Superdome, or in either of their parents’ bed.  OK, where were we? Yeah, that’s right, this post will probably prevent me from ever running for office and winning (unless y’all like skeletons), but the demographic of Homo sapiens that I least trust is WHITE WOMEN – cue CAVE BITCH by Ice Cube f/ Khalid Muhammed.  No, I’m not racist, this is from experience. I do like some white women, and the reason I distrust white women is empirical, historical and ecumenical.  But more than anything, white women are the counterpart of my favorite demographic is that of Black Women. I’ve never met every white woman nor have I met every Black woman, but the truth of the matter is that Black women are the most forgiving, the strongest, and the, *sighs in ecstasy,* most inspirational race and gender combination ever CREATED.  And because of that axiom, I pay tribute to Black Women.

Now, let me confess, I have dated, been involved in a relationship, and fucked non-Black women… I spent time around Lake Minnetonka and I was in a full-blown relationship with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel.  She played golf, she BBQ’d for me every Sunday, and she was cool with me smoking cigars.  The problem with the relationship was that I couldn’t get over the fact that when she was riding me, reverse cow girl, there was a tan line where her thong was… I mean not just a tan line but it was the difference between 2% and Chocolate milk (unless you are in my brain, don’t try to understand).  I would hang out with the Lynx and Mercury and I was embarrassed to bring my girl around.  What was wrong with her, she wasn’t a sister.

I recall the poetry of the rhythmic American poet, AMG, who once stated in the song “Bitch Better Have My Money,” There ain’t nuttin’ like Black pussy on my dick, word to the muthafucka, DJ Quik…”  I know this song is steeped in misogyny, but there is a Black woman somewhere in the world that will forgive me for calling her a BITCH.  Man, hold up, I’m not calling my mother, daughter, sister a bitch, are you crazy?  But if I would have, she would forgive me.  Our mothers walk with grace, accept the bullshit that they endure from Niggas, Wiggas, and Bitches and cook us biscuits in the morning.  Prime example is the FLOTUS, Michelle Robinson Obama.  She was educated in the best schools, she learned game from her brother, she fucks a dude that could fuck YOU or your girl (OK), and is a mother to two beautiful Black daughters.  She loves your kids and she’s, oh yea, the most well-educated first lady in the history of the United States.  And she deals with people calling her a terrorist and anything that you can imagine that would disrespect a Black woman … And what does she do in response: (at least publicly)

C’mon Son… But really, I think of the women that I’ve done wrong and at the end of the day, that’s the reaction I got… I mean, I’ve done some fucked up stuff… I mean, what’s the worst you’ve done? I’ve done worse.  Black women endured the rape, pillage and plunder of their land (I’m talking slavery) and you’ve never seen an insurrection led by a Black woman. (LOOK UP THE WORD INSURRECTION).  But although FLOTUS is the most famous example, I want you to think of a Black woman you know, she will accept your friends and she will forgive your dog ass when neither are expected or necessary.  I’m working on a book that consists of letters to Black women I’ve done wrong, so you’ll over-stand this point when you buy the book… LOL (Shameless Plug).

My favorite erudite once said of Black women:  “but we have, too, a vast group of women of Negro blood who [have] strength of character, cleanness of soul, and unselfish devotion of purpose…”  This is a tribute to my mother.  Carolyn Sonnier raised 4 boys… Her second, the best looking… But seriously, my mom, fought puberty and beat cancer and remains classy.  My father was for all intents and purposes a deadbeat… (nah he wasn’t that bad) but nigga didn’t pay child support (I still love my late Father but this ain’t about him) and my mom worked her ass off to get us out the projects into a small ass house.  My younger brother’s dad (my former step dad)  beat the shit out of my mom… I remember well… I couldn’t be more than 7 or 8.  I never saw a beating that bad before or since. Fuck, the memories… But my mom, I can’t remember her missing a beat (we left).  My baby brother’s dad was a pure alcoholic… He wasn’t abusive but he was soon, gone (I’ve wondered if that was the catalyst of the aforementioned ass whoppin) – NO EXCUSE.  I know that now but that was the thought of a pre-teen thinker.  She remarried again and won the prize with a bona fide crack head.  I mean he’d come home late Friday night (every one) drinking all the milk in the house *Kanye shrug* with lips swollen and have the nerve to claim he got robbed or some other lame ass excuse.  What I remember is what I remember.  I remember my mom, teaching me how to play football.  I remember my mom getting off of work and going to a second job.  I remember my mom contemplating suicide while I feigned sleep on the sofa.  I remember her sacrificing simple pleasures for herself to send me to New Orleans to debate in high school.  So forgive me if I’m impressed by Black women, look at my example.  She is my rock and even today she’ll send me a text “Good Morning Handsome, just thinking about you…” just when it’s needed.

No I also mentioned the erotic excitement Black women.  No I’m not going Oedipus on you.  I’m talking about every other Black woman out there.  When I lived in DC, Craig (my big brotha from anotha) and I used to play this game, we’d walk down the street and one of us would yell out, “Say something nice about her!”  She was always Black but she didn’t always conform to the Cosmopolitan view of beauty.  However, it could be a smile, it could be how she walked, it could be how she just looked nurturing… all signs of beauty that I submit is a quality innate to Black females.

In this month of March that is dedicated to Women in general, let me give a SHOUT OUT to all my BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMEN… I love you and I SALUTE YOU… The Sorrow that you have seen has done nothing to change your status with me.  The Darkness of your skin comforts me in my times of absence of light… this paradox is reconciled by the fact that I see your beauty from the inside out.  So as W.E.B. DuBois penned in the Damnation of Women:

“For this, their promise, and for their hard past, I honor the women of my race. Their beauty,—their dark and mysterious beauty of midnight eyes, crumpled hair, and soft, full-featured faces—is perhaps more to me than to you, because I was born to its warm and subtle spell; but their worth is yours as well as mine. No other women on earth could have emerged from the hell of force and temptation which once engulfed and still surrounds black women in America with half the modesty and womanliness that they retain… I have known and seen and lived beside them, but none have I known more sweetly feminine, more unswervingly loyal, more desperately earnest, and more instinctively pure in body and in soul than the daughters of my black mothers. This, then,—a little thing—to their memory and inspiration.”

This is my Tribute to the Black Woman.

Why Men Cheat: My Theory on Women

The ultimate source of my knowledge begins with the first book I read, the Bible. Genesis explains that in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Sometime later he created man. He made from the rib of said man, Eve, the REAL PROTOTYPE. Soon afterwards, women started messing things up for all humanity.  This is my attempt to right the ship of life for us, men and women.  Notice I never said God erred so don’t go there with me; and this most certainly isn’t a misogynistic rant: AIN’T MY STYLE.

Ladies, have you ever asked yourself, WHY? Why, men cheat? Why, men lie? Why, men ain’t shit? Of course not, I’m making this up because you know the answer! But keep reading and your eyes and subsequent relationships will receive an elucidation for which you will thank me. Warning, this message is not for the faint of mind or reasoning.  So here is my Theory on Women and why men cheat or lie or do whatever else.

Females typically mature faster than do boys.  Puberty normally hits women at somewhere in the neighborhood of pre-teens.  In times past and lands distant these newly formed women were eligible for child-bearing and marriage.  As Chris Rock put it, somewhere around this time they have had to beat off indecent proposals nigh and far.  The beginning of functional womanhood correlates to menarche.

Guys are much slower to  join the club and stop shooting spring water – welcome to manhood.

While these two groups posses the tools neither equipped themselves with the ability to embark into the majority.  This isn’t however a lesson in biology.

Women have just changed for but the first time and men have changed for nearly the last.  The next time women change occurs when they are about to graduate from high school or around 18 years old.  They often change friends and men like underwear.  They become more ready to enter into social situations.  The high school boyfriend is very expendable because she is now looking for a man or woman as the case may be.  Open to experimentations and waffling.  This is not the last time women change.

Sometime around 23-25 years of age women become WOMEN.  Confident, assured and in a prime position to handle relationships from an emotional, psychological, and physical standpoint.  They often are finishing up their academic careers.  Here’s the tricky part: they project their emotional maturity on to men.  MISTAKE!!! With that most women that I have come across will have sex sooner and more often because hey they can handle it and they know what they want.  When this does not result in requited love or emotional reciprocity: FRUSTRATION!

Not done yet.  For those women who do not find what they are looking for at a previous stage in womanhood, around the ripe old age of 30 they began to go through a reflective period.  “Why am I not married?” “I want kids!” etc.  Until those questions are answered, there continues to be frustration and agony, FOR MEN!

The problem arises when these phases of life for men and women don’t coincide.  There becomes a communication gap.  Steve Harvey exhorts you to think like men but act like a lady and I submit that is part of the problem.  WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE.  Women don’t communicate their needs and wants.  They don’t communicate to men when they are in the third phase their desires.  They look for “stats.”  A close friend of mine, who will probably not agree with these sentiments showed a path that women should take.  She uplifted the man she was dating.  She helped him get through his phases to manhood.

No, I was not looking for help, but I needed it.

I can’t read your mind but now I know what you’re looking for.

I see you need

1. a toy – take time and enjoy your youth, you won’t find your soulmate until much later in life
2. a boy – men are usually not dogs in the tender years of teens and early adulthood.  At this age we don’t know how to cheat and lie in a relationship but women usually hurt us first and from that point we are ruined (EXPERIENCED).  You teach us how to do these things, unwittingly of course
3. a man – be patient we grow into maturity at around 30 but we won’t be forced into the tame boys that you once loved.

We need

1. a woman – I mean an influence of a mother, a teacher, and/or a confidant to teach us about women.  Lacking this we experience pain and learn how to dish out pain.
2. a girl – a girlfriend someone we can experience life with without the pressures of getting married or being anything but a single man.
3. a toy – let us experience FUN.  Don’t be afraid to let your man have his pleasures and on his own time he will reach manhood and come find a woman whom he can trust, love, and give his all to.

So, women whatever phase you are in be aware and then beware.  You won’t be able to force a man into your ideal of what a husband or partner should be.  If you are fortunate enough to get a good man when you want him consider yourself lucky and work with the brother not work on the brother.  Become the best woman you can be and you will find the partner you need – better still he will find you.  DON’T SETTLE and DON’T MEDDLE.  If you are looking for a path look to the book that taught me about life the Bible.  Proverbs 31 will guide you and the only man who died perfect didn’t truly become a man until he was about 30.

Yours,

The N-Visible Man