Eventful week for me. Somewhat. I won’t rehash the details.
Oh – two great things though. My daughter turned 22 yesterday. And I met up with a friend who I see on average, twice a year. I always rejoice in our time spent catching up. We went to Iguanas in midtown Manhattan. Yum!
I started this entry wanting to piggyback off of a fellow blogger’s post titled A Tired Black Woman. It begins:
Dear Black Man, I’m tired of you and everyone in America trying to tell me what beauty is…
At first click, I clicked back off, because I felt a rant coming on that I wasn’t receptive to. But I like Tikeetha’s writing, and her vulnerability and outlook as a woman and blogger, so I went back.
Here’s what I wound up commenting on her blog:
I have to admit that I got turned off at “dear black man, I’m tired of you.” And it’s the same when I read things that start off harping on “the Black woman.” We all have our truths though, and expressing them and having others relate is a beautiful thing. It’s hard for me to be tired of “the Black man” in a general sense or as a whole when I have two grown black sons, and when I love the essence of black men, and when I came from one, and when I’m loving and appreciating one as a partner. (P.s. I might piggyback off this post on my blog.)
I’ve had less than satisfactory experiences with black men. And if I were white, I would be writing “I’ve had less than favorable experiences with white men” – because that who I would have likely been exposed to. However, I grew up in the hoods of Brooklyn before they were gentrified.
Something in me attracted my partners, and my experiences with them have only made me stronger (and wiser). And I intend to continue loving on black men – my sons, my lover, my friends, and just in general. And I’ve always, always had men tell me they admired my beauty – never anything different. The ones who found me unattractive probably just didn’t approach! Cool! I’m great with that.
None of this is to say there aren’t black men – and men in general – who hate women, or men who want to dictate beauty standards, or men who shirk their responsibilities (going back to the Tired Woman post). They aren’t in my experience.
In fact, in Why Cant I Just Love Black Men, I wrote about never having been in an interracial relationship, and how I have no intention to try one.
[Update: I learned shortly after writing this that Tikeetha’s post was in response to a man on her Facebook feed who criticized black women for wearing weaves.]
Enjoy the weekend!
Thoughts welcomed. Please chime in!