Be a Man

I am horrified about the fate of Black relationships.  I’ve been aware for the better part of two decades that there has been a lowering of standards, a “hip-hopization” of Black boys where they behave like rappers and thugs, play video games and make beats in the basement, and shun education for making that dollar.  The standards for raising men, real men, seem to have gone the way of the dinosaur.  Black boys have not been taught to carry themselves with respect, to have integrity, to accept responsibility for their wrong doing, hell, they’ve not even been taught to speak properly or how to tie a tie, let alone own one.  I’m pretty sheltered so I suppose I’ve been mistakenly thinking all this time that it’s been primarily an issue in the lower economic communities but I see it’s deeply entrenched in the middle and upper classes as well.  Black men, across the board, are not really men, they are little more than boys who are legally able to buy alcohol. 

I’ve witnessed, even in my own family, intelligent, educated, seemingly together young ladies choose partners who were barely literate and who looked like they had just gotten out of jail and I’ve scratched my head in wonder at 1. how her parents tolerated such an obviously unacceptable partner for their child and 2.  how his parents aren’t ashamed of the fact that they raised a child who can’t sit at a dinner table and know the basic rules of etiquette.  I’ve counseled far too many young ladies about their tragically pathetic and drama-filled lives with males whose greatest accomplishment in life is coordinating their outfit to their sneakers.  We don’t teach boys how to cook and clean up after themselves, we don’t teach them how to look someone in the eye, how to give a firm handshake, how to keep their word, we don’t TEACH them anything about being a man.  We certainly don’t teach them anything about being in a relationship, about finding and winning the affections of a good woman.  We don’t teach them how to communicate their feelings in a relationship, how to resolve conflicts, we don’t teach them what it takes to make a relationship work.  Nope, we send them to school and let them watch music videos 24 hours a day and that’s the extent of parenting Black men. 

I’m never one to reminisce about the good old days because I’m ever aware that the past holds a whole host of issues with racism and sexism that are glossed over in lieu of only remembering the things that pretty and nice but I’m here to say that if we don’t do something, and soon, on a global scale, we will not continue to exist as a community.  We can’t continue to have Black men be sexist, misogynist, emotionally immature, highly-functioning children and think that we will survive as a race.  It’s a recipe for disaster.  Relationships are the cornerstone for every race.  If Black boys are never becoming men, if they are never being taught to think logically, to dress appropriately, to be able to have a conversation that doesn’t include, “Nahmean?” then we will have no future.  No, I don’t understand what you mean.  Articulate yourself in a way that adults do.  Carry yourself with dignity.  Don’t look to emulating rappers as you ideal.  I blame the mothers and the fathers equally.  Black mothers have babied their sons, let them get away with far too much, they’ve been emotionally incestuous by making their sons the man of the house and not really teaching them what that meant other than having a penis.  Black fathers have neglected their sons, and when present, haven’t really parented their sons, they’ve been buddies and they’ve facilitated their son’s substandard behavior and seen nothing whatsoever wrong with it.  There is a father who posts daily on Facebook paraphrased conversations with his son and everyone thinks the exchanges are funny and amusing and I’m the only one cringing in horror at how completely inept the father is at seeing how his son is profoundly immature.  It’s a disease.  It’s a complicated one for sure because the flip side of the coin is how we have raised our daughters to accept these sorts of males in their lives as partners, not to have higher standards for the men they become involved with.  Self-destruction, we’re headed for self-destruction. 

AfroerotiK Wedding Vows

There is a true war on Black love.  There’s a concerted effort by the media moguls, by the powers that be, by those with influence over what we see, consume, and what we are entertained by to make sure there are NO images of Black men and Black women in healthy, committed, romantic, loving, supportive, intimate relationships.  They love to show you a Black person all mixed up in a swirl and proclaiming how color doesn’t matter.  Well, the fact that there are 1000’s of white couples that are happily married in the media and the only instances of Black relationships are based on the gross materialism of hip hop, involve a sports figure, or are based on some sort of “reality” that has nothing whatsoever to do with what REAL Black people have to do in order to maintain a relationship, proves that color really, really does matter.  They don’t want us to love one another.  They want us to think that white partners are better.  They want us to consider the cooning, clowning, and dysfunctional models they show us of getting married for money as real relationships.  Black LOVE is revolutionary. 

AfroerotiK has always been and will always be about the formation and support of Black LOVE first and foremost.  I created the following wedding vows, to be used freely and abundantly, for your wedding ceremony.  They can be used if you are getting married in a church, in a courthouse, in the park, or exchanging vows under a full moon with no one there to officiate but Mother Nature. It doesn’t matter if you are renewing your vows or if you are a same gender loving couple.  The essence of the words, the spirit of them celebrate the unbreakable bond of our DNA that is BLACK, unapologetically and beautifully so, and the union of souls committed to building an enduring AfroerotiK love. 

My beloved, my Divine right partner, I stand here today committing my heart, mind, body, spirit, and my eternal soul to you. 

I pledge my heart to you.  Within me beats a magnificent rhythm, synchronized by Oschun, the Goddess of Love and Abundance, that symbolizes my commitment to us.  The blood that courses through my veins is driven by a strong, steady, and constant force greater than mother Africa herself.  I give my heart freely on this day to you, to love you unconditionally, to be open and receptive, and to be vulnerable, authentic, and true in each and every moment we share together. 

I vow to keep an open mind, to continue to learn, and to occupy my thoughts with how we might be able to build a stronger, more cohesive unit together.  I will put aside my ego that tells me to look out for myself and I will think first and foremost of you and I.  United, indivisible, we possess the potential to create new worlds with our thoughts.  I will read, study, and learn so that I might be prepared for any mental battle we might encounter. 

I promise my body to you and all the pleasures it holds for you and you alone.  I pledge my fidelity without excuses and to share my most intimate self with you and only you.  I solemnly promise I will not hold back any secrets, fears, or insecurities that might hinder our communication.  I will put in effort to be romantic, to show I care, and I will not take our personal time together for granted.  And, if there ever comes a day when I find myself tempted by another’s charms, I pledge to you complete honesty and I will love you enough not to lie to, cheat on, or betray your precious heart. 

On this day, I take your heart, your hand, your love and your spirit and receive them as part of me, indistinguishable from my own identity.  I relinquish my life of solitude for one of partnership, communion, and connection.  I vow to thee a commitment greater than I’ve ever known, one worth fighting for for as long as I have breath in my lungs.  I take you as my spouse, friend, partner, and my equal in all ways.  Let our strengths complement each other and weaknesses be made strong together.  Accept me as your family and we will build a future united in LOVE. 

Interracial Erotica

I asked the question yesterday if I was being hypocritical because I didn’t write my brand of erotica, focused on the relationship and the connection between lovers, for couples that include Black men and white women.  Since everyone seems to feel I did the right thing, I’ll play my own devil’s advocate.  I never want to be so arrogant as to assume I’m always right about a situation and something about this particular situation is nagging at me.  I created AfroerotiK for Black people to find a home where they could feel validated and secure in their sexuality, to see healthy examples of not just sex, but intimacy and communication, to perhaps give them the tools to form better relationships and thus, have better sex.   I was tired of the gutter/ghetto erotica that was so cliché and so poorly written and oh so very stereotypical. I was drained by the unhealthy, dysfunctional sex that was being made erotic.  I wanted something that spoke to me because I wasn’t aroused by what was available to me and I wasn’t as one-dimensional as publishers of Black erotica seemed to think I was. 

I wanted to create a space where dark skinned women, women with nappy hair, and larger sized women who are all too often relegated to fetishes saw themselves as beautiful.  I started AfroerotiK because I wanted gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered people of color to find a place where they could be just as welcomed as hetero folk and not feel like their sexuality was fringe or different, but rather showed them, and more importantly showed the world, that it really doesn’t matter what is between your legs or who you are attracted to, that there is a sameness in our insecurities, drives, passions, and our desires.  It’s important to me when straight people say, “You know, I’m not gay but I really loved that story because I related to the characters.”  I wanted to start making sex beautiful and erotic and intense and diverse without it being degrading or vanilla. 

A funny thing happened when I started writing erotica.  White men started writing to me and telling me how much they couldn’t get enough of my stories.  There wouldn’t be a damn thing in my stories that related to white men; I’m not even sure most of them could even understand the verbiage in it because it was academic and Afrocentric and “conscious” and unapologetically Black in a way that most white people have never ever been exposed to in their lives.  But as their following grew increasingly larger I saw an opportunity to teach white men that Black people weren’t just fetishes or objects or stereotypes and that we are complex people and far more nuanced than they see in porn or on TV.  My interracial erotica grew out of their voracious appetite for my writing and I saw it as an excellent vehicle to teach them about their racism, our history, and use it as a teachable moment.  What we experience when we are aroused leaves an imprint on our psyche so I had an opportunity to teach white men about their privilege, their racism, and to divest them of some of their bigoted views by appealing to their desires. 

What evolved was my hardcore interracial BDSM erotica.  Unfortunately, white women got the short end of the stick because sooooo many white men fantasize about seeing their white wives and lovers degraded by Black men.  And when I say degraded, I don’t mean just being slapped and called names.  I’ve never written a story with a white woman being degraded that any white man has said, “Wow, that was a little too extreme.”   But, I wasn’t writing to appeal to white women, and I was painfully aware that all of heaven and earth bends to exalt the unparalleled beauty of the magnificent white woman, so, I didn’t feel bad at all.  White women would always have outlets that sang their praises and put them on a pedestal.  It wasn’t my job to make them feel validated.

Yesterday, a white woman asked me why I don’t have more loving depictions about Black men and white women and my response was, because it’s not my responsibility to create erotica that caters to white women and nor should I have to as a Black, super Black, Blackety Black BLACK woman.  Now, I’m questioning my motives and trying to evaluate if I need to push myself to grow.  I want Black people to see themselves in a healthy light.  Shouldn’t that include Black men who date/love white women?  I do very strongly believe that the vast majority of real life BMWW interracial relationships are based on 1. Black men’s conditioned slave mentality that tells them that white women are better, prettier, sexier etc., and 2. white women’s racist fetish of Black men’s sexuality.  But, as a true facilitator of social change, I think it might be my responsibility to show healthy examples of Black men and white women for several of reasons.  

1. Not all interracial relationships are formed out of diseased mindsets even if they are few and far between.  There are Black men who are self-aware involved with white women who are not objectifying Black men who are in relationships.
2. Black men, even if they don’t recognize how their preferences were formed, even if they can’t articulate why they prefer white women over Black women, should have at least one place where they aren’t made out to be the Mandingo, ghetto thug, big black cock, hypersexual stud that white society makes them out to be, and that’s ultimately why I created AfroerotiK.  It shouldn’t matter if they are attracted to Black women or not, they are still deserving of erotica that doesn’t perpetuate negative stereotypes about them.
3. I think if I write erotica that features white women and Black men in healthy relationships, it just might cause Black men to reflect on their sentiments and white women to examine their motives and biases and I can use this as a teachable moment as well. 

I’m still on the fence about my final decision but I’m leaning towards changing my perspective.  I’d like to think that my writing is strong enough that whomever decides to read it will be able to see something of themselves in the characters even if it doesn’t relate to them directly.     If I’m really about shifting consciousness and this might be my next challenge. 

Say Yes

We've been out for dinner and drinks. We come back to my place for conversation and listening to music. To the casual observer it’s just a girl’s night out. You know I want more but we don't even discuss it. It’s late and you say you have to leave. I walk you to the door and you stall. You want me to make the first move you don't know how to say it. I sense your hesitation and I absolutely can't wait another moment. I lean in close and I start to gently, softly kiss your neck. You throw your head back and you let me make love to your neck with my mouth. I push you gently against the door and you moan. Your hands reach out to touch my waist and I almost explode. I want to kiss you so badly and our lips are millimeters apart. Your eyes tell me yes. But I need you to say it.

Ever so imperceptibly, you pull my body closer to yours but it’s still not enough for me. You have to say it. You have to say something. I run my hands up and down your sides to your back and your hips and you're moaning softly but audibly now. I lift your face and look deep in your eyes and you say, "Yes." It's just one word but I know what you mean. I take you by the hand and we walk to my bedroom. I want to be assertive with you; I want to give you the space to think that you're not in control. But you are. You want it. You lay back on my bed without me even having to ask. I climb over you, our bodies just inches apart, and we kissed for the first time. You know you're safe with me and you say, "Don't stop."  That turns me on more than anything you can imagine I make it my business to give your body pleasure like you've never felt before.

Yes! I want that to be "our" word. I want you to control me by making me wait to taste you. I can't do anything to move forward until you say yes. I want you to tease me for months. I want to see your sexuality blossom and grow. I want you to become more and more assertive, telling me how to please you, teasing me. I want you to know that I want to make love to you, and eat and you control every bit of it. Force me to think of creative ways to please you and tease you and make you come back for more. I want to see your confidence grow and blossom. I want to see you tease man and turn them on and know that it's because you've mastered the art by teasing me. I want to figure out creative ways to tease you and please you for weeks between the time you let me kiss you and you let me put your incredible nipples in my mouth. I want my roommate to walk in and see my hand up your shirt and you tell me not to move it. As he lingers and tries to watch his dick gets hard and it turns you on. I want you to excuse us and take me by the hand and lead me to my bedroom knowing that he's listening and stroking his dick imagine what we're doing. I want you to be exceptionally loud. I want you to tell me what you like.

I want you to bring an overnight bag knowing that you can stay any night you want. I want you to take a shower and know that I'm masturbating in the bedroom waiting for you thinking about you fantasizing about you. I want you to introduce me to people as your girlfriend and put your hand on my thigh on the small of my back and only you and I know that we mean more. I want people to see us and assume we're lovers and they never know that I've never tasted you before. That you're making me wait.

I want to lick and kiss your inner thighs and know that I'm not allowed to put my mouth on you until you say yes. I'm going to be consumed with emotion the very first time I touch you pussy and feel how wet you are and kiss you. I want you to see the look of desperation in my eyes when I finger you and I take my fingers out and they're covered with your juices and I want to lick them but you don't let me. And you know that I won't lick some until you give me permission, until you say yes. Even after you leave. I want to smell your pussy on my fingers for hours.

I wanna fuck you so bad. Make me sit across the room and watch you fuck yourself with toys. Get on your knees with your ass up and your head down and tell me to eat your pussy. Demand it. I want to hear you scream into the pillow. I want to make you into this insatiable woman who's not afraid and ask her what she wants, to show her arousal. I want you to feel confident telling me about your fantasies with other men. I need you to know that I would be completely faithful to you.

I want to hear your chanting yes, yes, yes as I'm between your legs and you grab the back of my head and you flood my mouth with your cum. I want to take you out of town, wine you, dine you, and then, in the elevator on the way to the hotel room, I want you to look me in the eye and tell you to make you cum. In front of the security cameras. God, I want to finger your pussy and feel you moaning and chanting yes into my mouth as we Kiss passionately. The doors open, a man gets on and sees us and you tell me not to stop. My hand between your legs fingering your wet pussy and you’re coming and he's watching and you don't care because it turns you on.

And then one night, after we've been out, and we come back to my apartment, step inside the door and you lift my eyes to yours and say yes. On that night we make love for the first time. We make love to each other. Uninhibited. Equal. You taste me. We surrender to each other. We tell each other that we are in love with each other with our bodies and our lips and our hearts. We both know it’s not happily ever after love but it's real.

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK