The love I share is with a Black man.

The love I share is with a Black man.  A strong, beautiful, talented, intelligent, wonderful, Black man.  Not just as in the color of his skin, but Black in his heart: proud, confident, and secure.  A man that knows that keeping it real does not mean getting blunted or that he is a nigga.  He strives for excellence and looks to lift up and enlighten others along the way.  The Black man I love is my friend, my lover, my partner, my advocate and the father of my Black children. 

I believe in him and he believes in me.  I never have to ask, “Do you love me?” because the evidence is there is word and in deed.  Every morning we get up and share time with one another.  Sometimes we shower together, bathing in the closeness and love that we share.  Other times we make love until we are both late for work.  It’s passionate and fulfilling, not borne of a morning hard on, but of genuine passion and respect.  The time we spend together in the morning makes it easier to face the petty annoyances of the day.  I can reflect on his love and nothing seems to bother me.  I can face every challenge assured.  Assured that he will never call me a bitch or raise his hand to me.  Assured that the first woman with a big butt and no panties won’t lure him away.  Assured that our fights will not be with each other, but against racial and societal ills.  I’m assured that we are fighting for a future together. 

Do I love my Black man?  More than words can say.  When I speak of him, my eyes light up and I tell everybody about his talents, abilities and accomplishments.  (He gets so embarrassed sometimes.)  And I show him I love him every chance I get.  My love is there for the long haul, I’m down for whatever.  I’ll stand beside my man ready to face any challenge given to us. 

Why do I love my Black man?  When I’m afraid, he doesn’t make me feel inferior, he allows me to cry.  When I succeed, he doesn’t feel threatened, he rejoices in my accomplishments.  He deals with my faults and shortcomings.  I’m not perfect but he thinks I am perfect for him. He helps me to be a better person.  He doesn’t put undue pressure on me to be Superwoman: holding down a job, fixing dinner in high heels and a tight dress, ready to suck his dick and spread my legs, right after I do the laundry and put the kids to bed.  When I feel down, who do you think is my biggest cheerleader?  He stays awake through the entire ballet, and he only complains a little.  That’s OK, I make sandwiches and snacks for him during the game, cause that’s what makes him happy. 

Our time alone together is just that, alone.  Away from the pressures of a day to day existence.  Words are not necessary.  Our deepest communication is nonverbal.  Our dreams are the same, our hearts beat in the same rhythm.  It’s a good thing we get to spend time apart occasionally.  When I’m away on business or he’s having a boy’s weekend, we get a chance to reflect on how much we mean to one another.  There is never any insecurity or jealousy between us.  I smile when I see his head turn at the sight of a beautiful Black woman.  He jumps to the defense of sisters when they are being dissed by less enlightened men.  He takes the time to spend with young brothers, providing a positive role model for them to aspire to.  How could I not love this man?

And just when you think things can’t get any better.  He gives me that long, hard, hot, wet, sticky, Black love.  He eats my pussy till my eyes are rolling back in my head and I’m babbling incoherently. We have made love for days at a time, only stopping to open the door for the Chinese food deliveryman and wash off a healthy sheen of “love.”  I can share any erotic fantasy with him and know that I’m not going to be ridiculed or shamed.  He takes the time to make every time special: music, candlelight, poetry (his own).  I get wet just thinking about him. 

Sometimes problems do arise.  We face them as a challenge to greater heights of understanding.  We hardly fight, we playfully disagree, and if I have to pick up one more pair of dirty socks……Yeah, he works my nerves once in a while, but I never forget that I love him, nor that he loves me.  His family is mine, mine has become his.  Our children, planned and beautiful, created or adopted, are reflections of our love.  My eyes fill with tears sometimes when I see him reading them a bedtime story or giving them a bath.  Our sons, respecters of Black women, are political, street smart and fine.  Our daughters not dictated to by any stereotype, have beauty and charm as well as intellect and ambition.

Most importantly, I share my love of God with my Black man.  Every morning, every night, we thank God for the blessings we have received.  We worship, meditate and pray together. Our relationship to God defies traditional definition.  We make God first in our lives.  We face the world knowing that our love is a Divine gift from God. 

Erotica Noir The Sensual Art with AfroerotiK 05/01 by HoneySoul | Blog Talk Radio

Erotica Noir The Sensual Art with AfroerotiK 05/01 by HoneySoul | Blog Talk Radio

Healing Black Marriages/ Fixing Black Sexuality

I asked the question yesterday to married Black women, “Why is it that far too many Black men complain to me that their wives are unwilling to even show them the basic level of affection, let alone passion in their marriage, that sex seems to be the last priority on the list for their wives.”  Almost all the women who have responded have said that their husbands treat them poorly or don't help out around the house and that they just don't feel motivated to have sex.  That is certainly understandable.  If men can’t take out the trash without being asked or they can’t help out with the children, if they expect everything to be done for them and then want sex, they are selfish and immature and a woman can’t be expected to have or want sex in those circumstances.  OR, the women have said that they were raised to have sex with their husbands as a wifely obligation and they do it regardless of whether they want it or not. That’s some oppressive, archaic thinking to say the least.  It is not a woman’s JOB to please her man.  Sex is a form of communication, intimacy, and a show of love.  It’s not something a woman should do because she thinks she has some biblical obligation. 

I think there is a third group of women NOT responding.  I think the vast majority of Black married women who have not responded think that talking about sex in a public forum is beneath them, vulgar.  I think that they are the women who have set the rules for sex in their marriages and it has nothing to do with their husbands treating them poorly or not contributing around the house; it has to do with them seeing sex as something you do to get a man and not something you do to keep him.  It appears to me that quite a few Black women feel that they are entitled to the house, the car, the social standing and that raising the children and volunteering at church takes priority over intimacy, communication, and sexuality.  I think (again, based on my keen powers of observation, nothing more) that most married Black women are very disconnected from any sort of healthy sense of sexuality. 

I suspect that it is a combination of things that has caused our married relationships to go terribly awry.  First, women, most black women feel that marriage is about men conforming to their demands, not a give and take, not about compromise, not about cooperation.  Somewhere along the way, we as Black women were taught that we as women make the final decisions (regardless of that "man being the head of the household" thing we LOVE to espouse) and that men must conform and change to meet our wills and that's that. Final answer.  No room for discussion.  It is the natural byproduct of being raised by single mothers who were hurt by no good men and overbearing mothers who wore the pants as they say in the relationship.  I think that most Black women feel that once they get the man, the ring on their finger, the work they need to do to keep him is done.  I say most because clearly there are some older women who feel that it's their job to please their man, that they have to put his needs first, etc.  That doesn't seem to be the case with most women less than 45 years old.  They seem (and I'm only basing this off my observations, not empirical evidence) to put more value in social appearances.  It's more important to put more emphasis into job, kids, church, and community than husband. 

Second, it appears as if men aren't very good lovers.  They aren't tender, or romantic, they have no clue what the word seduction means.  It appears they haven't altered their technique since they started having sex.  They use the same methods they learned at 17 and they think that makes them "super lovers."  I think most women enjoy that fast and furious fuck when they are dating but they want and need more as they mature, as the relationship evolves from infatuation to love and don't even have the vocabulary to ask for more or different once they've been in the relationship.  They don't want to say, "Hey, you know, for the past 10 years you've been sucking on my clit (or, God forbid, you don't even know where it is) and I don't really like it like that."  They don't know how to say, "Could you do me a favor and just give me a massage and cuddle with me and have some foreplay without having to have the night end in you humping me like a dog in heat?"  Every man I've ever spoken to is convinced he's a great lover.  That is NOT the case.  In fact, that is rarely the case.  Most men think that what they see in porn is good sex.  Most men can't even comprehend that the same routine of a little kissing, eating pussy, and then sticking it in is not enough variety to keep a woman satisfied.  I know personally I've had to tell men, "Hey, I told you, I don't like it like that," several times because they automatically go back to doing things they way they've always done them and they think it will work for every woman.  I can't imagine that most women can tell their husbands anything like that because they will look at her like, "It's been working all these years, what are you talking about?"  I’m not even convinced most women KNOW what will feel good, let alone, know how to communicate it to their husband of several/many years. 

I think the solution to this is so complex, so multi-faceted that is seems insurmountable.  The fact that only 30% of our community is married seems unbelievable.  First, we have to get women to understand that sexuality is important, it is essential to the survival of any relationship, that it's not dirty nor should it be an obligation.  We must get them to see that it is a vital part of the foundation of marriage and that it's something to be enjoyed, not looked at as a chore.  We have to heal women's psyches.  We have to dismantle this concept that, "I'm the woman and you do what I say and there's no discussion."  How we do that?  I don't know.  All the facets of society are in place for things to stay the way they are.  Everything about our culture is constructed for women to see sex as a tool to get a man and they think (wrongfully so it seems) that controlling that, or rather withholding sex is a perfectly viable option once they have walked down the aisle. 

Then we need to address men's concepts of sex.  That's much easier.  I can do that with my work, with my stories.  I can show men how to seduce.  They've never seen romance, seduction, tenderness before.  They've never been taught to please a woman before.  YESSSS, I know, I know fellas.  Your mother's best friend/the neighborhood lesbian/your super horny girlfriend taught you how to please a woman and you KNOW that you are a good lover.  No sweetie.  Some sexually abused woman was taking out her dysfunction with you and think that what you learned then is written in stone and will please every woman.    You have to remember and understand that the vast majority of women have been raised on porn these days and they have been socialized to think that yelling and screaming calling you big daddy and being called a dirty slut is what sex is all about.  It’s not.  And regardless of the number of women you think you've pleased, if your wife isn't climbing all over you to get the dick, you aren't doing what it takes to get the most important woman to her special moment. 

The good news is, that there are healthy, loving, Black relationships where people are expressing themselves, sharing, communication, cooperating and having fantastic sex.  We need to hold those relationships up as models.  Unfortunately, the people who are in healthy, intimate relationships shouldn’t go around bragging about them.  I can work at writing the types of erotica that show healthy relationships between Black couples.  I can create videos that teach men how to make love.  Healing these issues is going to take a lot of work.  Work that I don’t think we are ready to tackle as a society.  It’s messy and unpleasant.  No man wants to hear that they aren’t a good lover when he’s spent the majority of his life thinking that he is.  I don’t know many Black women who want to hear that they have to give up control, be more vulnerable, compromise more.  Regardless, I’m going to try.  It is my mission to heal Black relationships. 

Scottie Lowe 2012

Assault with a Deadly Skittle

Assault with a Deadly Skittle

The real thinking person has to ask themselves, how many times has an incident like this happened before for the Sanford Police Department to be so blatant in their disregard for the law? How often is a black person killed and a white person given the benefit of the doubt whereas the police department casually says, “We don’t see a problem,” and thinks no one will question it? This can’t be the first time. This needs to be investigated much further than just this one shooting. MUCH FURTHER.

AfroerotiK vs. Zane

AfroerotiK vs. Zane

Or for those who aren’t literarily challenged “Intelligent Discussion of Sexuality vs. A Ghetto Hot Mess” 

First off, let me say that the only reason I selected this specific title for this discussion is that I know it pisses off an extraordinary amount of Zane followers.  I have nothing against Ms. Roberts personally.  I don’t know her and I’m sure she is a very nice person.  I give her nothing but credit for opening doors and starting discussions about sexuality.  That, unfortunately, is where my praise for her has to end.  I find her content stereotypical, degrading, and overall unhealthy.  I’m not “hating” on her, I’m not jealous, I am not trying to start a war or anything of the sort.  I can’t, in good consciousness, ignore the fact that she has done a tremendous disservice to the African American literary community with her brand of erotica that reduces Black women to nothing more than materialistic nymphomaniacs and Black men to nothing more than dick-slinging dogs. 

Black people, love to throw the term “hater” to anyone who critiques anyone with money.  That shows our immaturity as a people.  Money should not be the magic insulator that buffers people from critique.  My critique of Zane is not because of the wealth she has amassed over the last decade, it’s because of the detrimental effects, the cumulative ripple effects it has created in the Black community.  She writes, very poorly as a matter of fact, about sexuality in ways that perpetuate all that is wrong with Black sexuality.  She glorifies, celebrates, champions, and promotes the most dysfunctional behaviors possible and people buy it as entertainment.  It is my very strong belief that her singular influence has created a greater divide between Black men and women than any other outside force.  It is my very opinionated belief that Black women (and unfortunately girls) have become accustomed to the storylines she writes about and they have internalized all the dysfunctional behaviors illustrated in her books.  Women considering themselves pimps and players and dogging men out and using them for money and manipulating them with threats of withholding sex and promises of “high octane pussy” (a term I use to describe a product, not unlike gasoline, that does the exact same thing as the cheaper priced version but it is perceived to have more value, thus, making the user feel more important) is all too common these days due to Zane’s popularity and the fact that her brand “urban” literature has sold millions and millions of copies. 

Conversely, I write about healthy Black relationships.  I write about couples who are partnered, in love, making healthy choices, who are intelligent and multi-dimensional.  I have NEVER written about a woman going after a man just for his money; I have never once written a story that glamorizes cheating; you will never see an AfroerotiK story about a man who has casual sex without regard to the feelings of his partner.  My storylines are complex and different.  My readers are, for the most part, more intellectual.  I don’t say that to disparage anyone but if one were to read the comments on one of my stories, they most often wouldn’t find someone responding with caps lock on, misspelling their words phonetically, and reiterating banal clichés.  There is a difference in our readers and fans.  While I have lots of fans who like and appreciate her work and I’m sure if her readers and fans read my work, they would find it appealing to some degree. 

Here’s where my question arises.  How do I, as someone who wants to be the instigator of more intelligent discussions, speak to a nation of people who only want to show off their body parts and ask silly questions like, “Who got hit off dis weekend?”  I want people to discuss their relationships, their sexual identity, I want people to question what they’ve been taught.  How do I bridge that divide?  How do I get people who get aroused at any mere mention of the words dick, pussy, fuck, and suck to actually engage in discussions that are deeper, that cause them to reflect on their relationships and their sexual partnerships?  Do I dumb down my writing?  Do I do the ole’ bait and switch and write a typical urban story and when I get those readers, do I then hit them with my more nuanced writing?  Will they understand it if I do?  Do I continue to preach to the choir meaning continue to write and engage the people who get what I’m trying to do and not worry about the people who find Zane (and the thousands of writers just like her) appealing?  Is there any reason for me to even waste my time in trying to reach out to people to get them to have more intelligent discussions of sexuality? 

What are your thoughts? 

Sweetness