A blog of randomness from the brain of a whimsical but earnest Black girl...an outlet for the thoughts that frequently occasionally clutter her brain...
I haven't blogged in a while because, well, life's been distracting. Not necessarily any busier than usual, just more distracting. Damn, it's all of those little things that clog my brain and make writing much more difficult than it should be. Where to begin? Well, let's start with last night...
So, yesterday I had a pretty great day. Spend the earlier part of it walking and brunching while in good conversation with the One I Like Best. This pretty much started my day off right and I felt no need to go out into the world and expand on it. I essentially spent the rest of the day sitting on my loveseat streaming indie romances on Netflix. It was a good time and around 11pm I decided to call it a night. Jump in the shower and when I jumped out I noticed that, in the meantime, a little facebook chat box had popped up from no other than the One I Was Once Infatuated With. (Brief note: This infatuation was short lived as it quickly became apparent that while we had great friend chemistry, there was no "spark".) We chatted for a bit and decided to hang out because that's what we do...we hang out. And this usually feels just like "hanging out." But it got kind of weird a half hour in when it really began feeling like a "date"...for some reason, there was chemistry, maybe even a little "spark". Eeek...this could be a problem. Or could have been a problem if I hadn't woken up this morning and realized that I kind of missed and really wanted to talk to the One I Like Best.
Indeed, perhaps I have passed the test: When presented with a exceptionally attractive man shiny object, momentary distraction is acceptable. But when your head snaps right back to the prize...well, maybe you've got something good.
" A lot of our ire about interrcial dating is about the seemingly different standards the Black men who date other women have for them as opposed to for us. On what planet would a Black 22-year-old domestic get to marry a Stanford grad who is one of the world's most successful athletes? Or the Kendra woman from "Girls Next Door": could a Black woman jump from Hugh Hefner's bed to the altar with a handsome pro-baller? What Black female could escape a sex tape scandal only to become a telvision star with a gorgeous, succesful boyfriend? Do you see famous or successful White men rolling around town with Black women of questionable accomplishment or ill repute? This isn't just celebrity territory, I've known men who had impossible standards for the Black women they dated, only to settle for the most marginal of women when they were of another race."
I'm not against interracial dating. Really, I'm not. There is nothing wrong with expanding your horizons, but Black men - when having a hot little not-Black something on your arm becomes so important that it means dropping all standards, we have a problem. Seriously. Eeewww...
Oh my, if I have watch/read/listen to another piece regarding the fact that I will probably end up alone with a great job, a great Fendi handbag and a dozen cats I just might [fill in the blank].
So, Black women's marital status has always been an interesting cultural preoccupation. First, we couldn't marry (we were property), then we should marry (we were welfare queens), and now we can't find people to marry us. 42% of Black women have never been married and the percentage just keeps getting higher the more educated and successful we are. It's rough.
Everyone seems to be getting in on the discussion - most recently, Nightline.
Scarily, one of the women in the feature was only 28. At 25, I'm close on her heels, so I guess I should be getting worried. Right? Well, I refuse. In an act of defiance, I will not allow the these "revelations" get under my skin. Although I ultimately want a partner, as a feminist/womanist/humanist, I won't let myself be defined by my marital status - that's not where my value lies.
However, even as I'm not getting my VS panties in a bunch, I am willing learn from what I'm what I've (or what we all have) been observing. So, what are the lessons?
- In dealing with our "bottom-of-the-totem-pole" position in society, we have had to do a lot of self 'uptalk.' Our successful Black girl mantra has been something in the vein of us being wonderful, beautiful, valuable, virtuous, worthy individuals and that's great. And although many Black girls never internalize this (or even really hear it), those of us that have need to be careful not to take it too far into self-absorption. Asserting our worth is an important part of enacting self-esteem, but we need to be careful to remember the worth of others - particularly the worth of men. When I'm talking worth here, I'm not talking about bank accounts, 401Ks or real estate, I'm talking about that which makes that person who they are.
- Yes, we don't need a man. However, maybe we should get better at being able say that we really would like one; that perhaps our lives would be richer with someone to share it with. Being able to confidently state our desire for companionship and intimacy is as important has our declarations of independence. I'm working on this...
- There's more to a man then his credentials (and his biceps). A checklist of "dealbreakers and dealmakers" may be a good place to start, but at the end of the day, people are complicated. Not everything can be accounted for, both good and bad, and we are probably overlooking some great men while overestimating some others when we rely on rigid externally imposed standards.
- Despite the daily recitations of our mantra, are we really okay being ourselves? No, the carefully groomed exteriors...are we really okay with whatever lies underneath. The good, the bad and the quirky. If we want intimate relationships, we have to be willing to let the "perhaps unrespectable" parts of us show....yeah? I think so. Ladies, let's work on being the most genuine versions of ourselves possible.
