It is so true, I do not know, understand, nor can I comprhend what it is to be a Black man. The mysteries of the unobtainable “Y” will forever remain elusive to me. I am a Black woman, in fact I am all Black women.
I struggle to get an education and a job in a society where my melanin rich skin is detested and abhorred. “They” don’t want me to excel, they would just as soon pass me over for that promotion, make me train my supervisors, deny me the sub-standard raise, create a hostile environment, and fire me unjustifiably. In their eyes, I am weak and stupid and criminal, I dare say, not even human. The only reason the police don’t beat me down and kill me in such great numbers, is I do not resist them as much. Trust me, were I to have more testosterone, every time I am pulled over unjustifiably, I would be face down on the side of the road rather than paying the fine for an imagined infraction.
What I do understand is that I’ve got to live up to outrageous and unreasonable demands to be a Black woman. I know what it is to walk down the street and I have to respond to every comment and criticism from Black men, regardless of how rude, degrading, or vile it is, lest I be called out my name. I know that I have to have a big booty and show it off to be considered attractive, ooops, but I can’t show it off too much or I’m a hoochie. I have to put on makeup to not be considered to’ up, but not too much or I’m fake. I have to be a freak in the bedroom to satisfy my man, but if I’m too freaky, I’m not worthy to be his wife. I have to match my perfectly pedicured toes to my fingernails right after I pick up my child from day care and take care of all the household responsibilities. I gotta pay the bills, cook and clean, raise the children, (most times by myself) go to work, try to make a way for myself and be supportive to my man. But what does being supportive mean?
Seems like I will never be able to obtain the standards of a good Black woman. I have to not ask questions about where he goes when he says he was out with the boys? I have to not ask him to contribute to the household financially or I’m a gold digger. I have to look the other way if he cheats because that’s just the nature of men, right? I can’t be too thin, I can’t be too fat. My hair has to be done all the time. I can’t be too outspoken or I’m a bitch.
I struggle to get an education and a job in a society where my melanin rich skin is detested and abhorred. “They” don’t want me to excel, they would just as soon pass me over for that promotion, make me train my supervisors, deny me the sub-standard raise, create a hostile environment, and fire me unjustifiably. In their eyes, I am weak and stupid and criminal, I dare say, not even human. The only reason the police don’t beat me down and kill me in such great numbers, is I do not resist them as much. Trust me, were I to have more testosterone, every time I am pulled over unjustifiably, I would be face down on the side of the road rather than paying the fine for an imagined infraction.
What I do understand is that I’ve got to live up to outrageous and unreasonable demands to be a Black woman. I know what it is to walk down the street and I have to respond to every comment and criticism from Black men, regardless of how rude, degrading, or vile it is, lest I be called out my name. I know that I have to have a big booty and show it off to be considered attractive, ooops, but I can’t show it off too much or I’m a hoochie. I have to put on makeup to not be considered to’ up, but not too much or I’m fake. I have to be a freak in the bedroom to satisfy my man, but if I’m too freaky, I’m not worthy to be his wife. I have to match my perfectly pedicured toes to my fingernails right after I pick up my child from day care and take care of all the household responsibilities. I gotta pay the bills, cook and clean, raise the children, (most times by myself) go to work, try to make a way for myself and be supportive to my man. But what does being supportive mean?
Seems like I will never be able to obtain the standards of a good Black woman. I have to not ask questions about where he goes when he says he was out with the boys? I have to not ask him to contribute to the household financially or I’m a gold digger. I have to look the other way if he cheats because that’s just the nature of men, right? I can’t be too thin, I can’t be too fat. My hair has to be done all the time. I can’t be too outspoken or I’m a bitch.
Then I have to deal with the racist media telling me what I can and can not be. My hair can’t be nappy or I’m radical. My nose can’t be too wide, my skin can’t be too dark, and my lips can’t be too full. I’ve gotta look like a video dancer every time I leave the damn house.
To make matters worse, I gotta have Black men tell me I’m not enough by choosing white women because they are “more supportive.” You tell me what is a sista supposed to do, what more can I be?
