Black Women Are the New Black and That's Not Particularly Good

Sisters, let me take a just a minute of your time to just talk to you.  It seems that you’ve come under some intense scrutiny but not in a good way.  And I ain’t trying to join in, but I was just on the sidelines looking on, and I thought I should say something.

All of a sudden, all the various media seem more than a bit overly concerned with the marital status of successful Black women.  According to the media, available, suitable African American men are in short supply, and successful black women are out there languishing, hoping against hope for a man, a good man or, perhaps, just any man to make their lives complete.

Admittedly, I have this loony, quirky, out of control imagination, so when I hear the media continue to beat this dead horse with a stick, a get this image in my mind of a amorphous, glassy eyed, zombie-like mob of successful Black women roaming the streets of any major metropolitan area, arms out-stretched in front of them, moaning “MEN!  MEN!” ala Dawn of the Dead.

But this narrative is nothing new;  some version of it has been around for as long as I have had consciousness.  In fact, this deficit narrative of “successful Black women can’t find no man” goes hand-in-hand with its brother deficit narrative of “the black man in crisis.”

And I am not saying real issues do not exist within the two groups;  however, in studying and reporting on these issues affecting these two groups, broad generalization takes the place of any real explication.  The situation and circumstance for a few individuals or subgroups became a synecdoche taken as the situation and circumstance for the whole.

Regardless, the level of scrutiny seems wholly unprecedented.  From time to time, Black males have come under a microscope but never like this.  The difference in this instance, however, seems to be the amount of money to be made and notoriety to be gained explaining and providing commentary on just how unhappy successful Black women are and how they might be cured.

Wednesday night’s Nightline program was but the latest in a seemingly ad nauseum cavalcade of similar articles, blog posts, and television programs.  I may be mistaken, but the publicity surrounding the publication of Helena Andrews book, Bitch Is the New Black, just happened to open this powder keg.  However, according to Andrews, the book was intended entirely as satire with her and her group of friends and their efforts to find love in the DC metropolitan area at the center.  Think an ebony version of Sex in the City.

However, through a masterful marketing campaign, Andrews garnered quite a lot of attention.  From what I understand, she had a movie deal for the book even before it went to press.  With the potential for that much money and attention just waiting to be had, naturally folk began to jump aboard this gravy train.

Suddenly, people and entities concerned with the plight of successful Black women seemed to emerge from the woodwork.  Articles began to pop up almost everywhgere in the print media.  Recently, even Economist magazine published an article on the issue.  Economist magazine?  When did Economist became so concerned with what seems to be a social issue?

In addition, I believe that at this point, every major network has done some kind of special report.  In fact, I read somewhere that Chris Hansen is doing a television series entitled To Catch an Available, Suitable, and Single Black Man.  Well, I’m lying about that just trying to get attention again, but you get the gist.

And a few brothers have even gotten in on the act.  Comedian Steve Harvey suddenly emerged as some kind of relationship counselor, though I’m unclear as to his exact qualifications.  He even has authored a best-selling book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, and get this;  he just launched a dating site for African Americans.

Actor and author Hill Harper has appeared more thoughtful and introspective in both his book, The Conversation, and personal appearances discussing the issue.  He seems really dedicated to affecting change.

However, that’s in stark contrast to Jimi Izrael of tight t-shirt fame whose bombastic, self-serving text seems to depend on purely base and sensationalized conjecture in an attempt to merely sell books and does not contribute anything worthwhile to the conversation. 

And just as an aside, is it just me or does Jimi Izrael seem to be always wearing the tightest t-shirts known to mankind?  It always looks as if he is walking around in a big, tight onesie.  I’m beginning to think that smedium is really a size.  Maybe I’ll choose a store in the mall and ask where the size smedium t-shirts are kept.  But I digress.

So to continue, we’ve discussed this issue in minute detail on our blogs and BlogTalkRadio programs.  I’ve even participated in such a program on a BlogTalkRadio show I co-host, Freedom thru Speech Radio, and it has proven to be our most successful program to date.  So we are, in fact, fueling that interest even as we decry it.

And let me say this now.  I don’t claim any special expertise in this matter;  I’m just a brother who through a series of fortunate events, a bit of favor, and a whole lot of tenacity, made it good.  But I’ll just tell you what I tell my two daughters, and that’s what I learned through living and personal observation.

The statistics are real.  The numbers are real.  Black successful women and Black women in general are at a statistical dis-advantage.  But this goes for both men and women—if you base your happiness on a source external to you, if you base your happiness on being able to find a woman or a man, if you are waiting on someone else “to complete” you, you will be forever losing.

You are essentially born with everything you need to be happy.  And if you cannot look inward for happiness, if you are not happy with yourself, you cannot make anyone else happy.  If you do not love yourself, you cannot really love and be loved truly and fully by anyone else.

The whole upshot of this narrative is that we are being told what we need to be happy.  Even though we may be happy with ourselves, even though we may be alone but not lonely, we are told that this is not acceptable.  But I really and truly believe, do you, continue to work on you, and everything else will work itself out.  

Can Men and Women Really Be Friends?

Now for day 2 of Relationship Week. For those of you returning, thank you. Thus far this week is turning out to be a success. For those of you just arriving, take a look at what has been said so far and add your voice.

Let me preface what follows by tendering the definition of friendship I will be using. I took the liberty of borrowing this definition from @girly1121 who is a new blogger at Latte Then Thoughts Blog:

When I think of a Friend, I think of someone that is there for me no matter what, someone I can share my thoughts, feelings, ups and downs and they are not going to judge me.

I once had a Friend like that. We were good friends for quite a while. Sometimes I really miss her friendship.

She was a young, single black female. I was a young, married black male. Perhaps when I think about it, it couldn’t have lasted anyway.

We worked the nightshift together. And I guess it was only natural that we should have become friends. We were raised in the same geographical area, and had many shared experiences. Plus, I welcomed the familiar accent; it soothed me and reminded me of home. And we had the same quirky sense of humor.

So, eight to twelve hours a day, five days a week, we spent the night talking and laughing together and plotting how we were going to get out of a job we both abhorred and move on to bigger and better things.

I found it humorous when our co-workers began referring to her as “my work wife.” But I grew wary when our co-workers began whispering of an affair between the two of us. I wanted to do nothing to disrespect my wife and family.

But nevertheless, our friendship escalated. We began to have phone conversations during the day, sometimes several times a day. And my wife and I visited her home several times for dinner or a party, and she visited ours several times for the same reasons.

The turning point in our friendship came one weekend when my wife and children were out of town for some family function, a wedding or funeral or something. I really don’t remember. But on a Saturday night when we were off, she called me seemingly upset. She asked that I come right away but wouldn’t give me a reason.

I didn’t feel right about the whole thing. I had never been to her home except in the company of my wife. And on the drive over, the advice of the minister who had counseled me and my wife before we got married kept playing in the back of my head. He had advised me that the very best way to keep from cheating was not to allow myself to get into any situation in which I had to say no.

And then I thought of my frat brother who always seemed to be in trouble with his wife for cheating. A young, single woman who he was “friends” with called him over to help her move some furniture, and they managed to move some furniture all right.

So about halfway there, I turned around and went back home.

From then on, our friendship went downhill. We became downright nasty toward one another. More and more, we spent the night arguing and insulting one another until we just stopped speaking at all, and she finally just went to the day shift.

From this experience, I can only believe that it is practically impossible for heterosexual men and women to be just friends given the definition tendered above, especially when one party is married and the other is not. There is always a certain sexual tension present that if not resolved can only turn affection into resentment.

Perhaps if we had both been single and the relationship been allowed to run its natural course, perhaps if we had an outlet for that tension that had built up between us, I can only imagine where the relationship might have gone.

Since then we located one another through a mutual friend via Facebook. We have exchanged cordial greetings and messages, and she even sent me a birthday card. But I know nothing of her life now, and as far as I know, she knows nothing of mine.

Also, since then I have had many female friends. In fact, I have many more female friends than male friends. But besides those childhood friendships that I maintain from afar, most of what I am referring to as friends are only really acquaintances that I hear from or see from time to time. We have a short conversation, catch up on what has transpired since we last saw one another, and then move on with our lives.

Am I too bound by my own experience to believe that heterosexual men and women can be best friends? Can heterosexual men and women be just friends, and what would that friendship look like, consist of? Do you have a close friend of the opposite sex? What has sustained your friendship?

Three Women I'd Like to Meet

Let me preface this post by stating that my choices are not based on any celebrity crushes of any kind. I’m much too old to be engaging in such foolishness. Nor are they chosen for any lewd or lascivious reasons. Not that I’m above lewd and lascivious thoughts, but let’s just say that that’s not my motivation. This time.

These are simply three women who fascinate me for some reason or another. They, or at least their public and on-screen personas, seem to exemplify certain qualities that speak to me for whatever reason. They are women with whom I would simply like to sit down with and have a good meal and a glass of wine or two and just get to know them better on a cerebral level.

Are you ready? Let the list begin.

Jenifer Lewis

My wife refers to Jenifer Lewis as that lady who always plays somebody’s momma, and if you think about it, my wife is right. She does always seems to play someone’s momma or aunt. Think about What Loves Got to Do with It? in which she plays Annie Mae Bullock’s mother. Or Poetic Justice in which she plays Tupac Shakur’s character Lucky’s mother. I could name a few more, but by now you agree.

Of course she is beautiful and shapely, but these attributes are not the allure. There are literally hundreds of actresses who are as beautiful and shapely, or even moreso. But her characters always seem to display a definite intelligence as well as a certain strength, a certain maturity, a certain self-assurance. And to that intelligence, strength, maturity, and self-assurance, that deep, husky voice adds a layer of sensuality.

It may sound just a tad bit corny, but when I think of Ms. Lewis, lines from Maya Angelou’s poem “Phenomenal Woman” comes to mind—“It’s in the arch of my back,/The sun of my smile,/The ride of my breasts,/The grace of my style.” She’s a certainly a woman, phenomenally.

Margaret Avery

Who can forget that classic scene from Richard Pryor’s movie Which Way Is Up? Richard Pryor as the father walks in on Richard Pryor as the son and his wife Annie Mae, Margaret Avery’s character, in a very compromising position. Richard Pryor the father begins to raise hell then he stops in mid-sentence and exclaims to Annie Mae, “Damn Annie Mae, you sho’ is built!”

I thoroughly enjoyed that film, but for me, the film that most defines Margaret Avery’s on-screen persona is Shug Avery in The Color Purple. Ms. Avery does not just play Shug Avery; she is Shug Avery. Shug Avery is that woman with the questionable past that every man desires, with beauty and a body that promise pleasures untold. She exudes strength and self-assuredness, but when you peel back the many layers of the façade, what you find is a certain vulnerability and distrust of others growing out of years of abuse and betrayal.

In all her roles, that same sense of vulnerability seems to come through, as does a sense of kindness. Perhaps the perfect setting in which to get to know Ms. Avery would be a picnic outdoors by a lake. That way we could talk amid the chatter and laughter of children as we watched the families and young couples pass by, all the while basking in the assurance that everything would indeed be alright.

Jill Scott

Jill Scott is beautiful. Jill Scott is a poet. Jill Scott is a chanteuse. Should I go on, or should I just stop here? I know the perfect way to get to know Ms. Scott. We’ll just take a nice walk, a long walk “around the park after dark/Find a spot for us to spark/Conversation, verbal elation, stimulation/Share our situations, temptations, education, relaxations”.

I’ve been a fan since her first CD. You know I love music, and the music finds a definite groove, but perhaps because she is a poet first, her lyrics are what really stand out. Lately, my wife and I have really been enjoying her HBO series, No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency.

Jill gives off that sister vibe. You know, you can talk with her, laugh with her, share your secrets with her, your heartbreak, your fears. And she won’t laugh at your neurotic behavior or go tell her girlfriends. I read that she and her first husband divorced, and she went through a little down period afterward. How could a man let a woman like that get away? But seemingly the story has a good ending; she is now remarried and expecting her first child.

Maybe we can just get together sometime and share a few lines of verse.