(Originally published 8/29/2008)
"I've been a woman my whole life and every part of me believes in the empowerment of women. But the truth is I'm a free woman. And being free means you get to thing for yourself, and you get to decide for yourself what to do. I'm just following my own truth…" –Oprah Winfrey (February 3, 2008)
For the last 19 months, I have gone from wondering what the hell Barack was doing, to being pissed off at what he was doing, and finally to not giving a damn about what he was doing. After much arguing with all sorts of friends in person and online, I had resigned myself to provide little quips when challenged, but mainly lay off discussing the man.
Why?
Because I didn't trust, respect, or like the man. Although I'd worked on his 2004 run for U.S. Senate, I had never supported his "historic" campaign to grab the title of Free Leader of the World. There were MANY different reasons for this, as I'm sure most of the folks reading this note will already know. (Rehashing them would take forever.)
So, last night, I was prepared NOT to watch that doggone speech. My friend chided me for planning on missing a "historic" moment in history because of my disagreements with the man. So we began to watch and listen to the pre-speech video together.
I was disgusted. I'm thinking, "ohmigod, ain't nobody but white folks in this damn video! And folks call him, BLACK?" I felt my annoyance factor rise once again.
As the video goes off, people start chanting, "Yes we can," or "O-ba-ma" or one of those cutsie-poo slogans, so I did my usual loud sighing and made and excuse to push off.
I walked out of my room with every intent of going to get a lime frozen fruit bar when I heard my mama performing the Black church clap. This surprised me because I do not live in a Obama supporter house. When he is mentioned, it is usually in a negative way, so the clap confused me. (i.e. my sister introducing her and her friend's creation of the term "Obamaed," which they define as being sold out. "Awww no, you got Obamaed!") And although I do I believe he'll win in November, that doesn't mean I have to like him, or his decisions, or his actions, or his rhetoric. (I will be the FIRST to admit that the competition is NADA though.)
I stopped in the hallway and turned into her bedroom. I asked her, "what are you clapping at?" (I'm sure it came out sounding like more of an accusation because I haven't trusted her since she admitted that she voted for him in the primaries because, "well…girl, I been kinda waitin for this day. He's Black." I felt like my mother had to be much more intelligent than that.)
However, my mother doesn't give that clap to just any-ole-body. That's a clap from CHURCH. That means that this clap is only performed when she hears somebody telling what she honestly believes is THE TRUTH. My mother knows truth from deception a lot more than I do.
So, I sat down.….and was blown away.
At first, I was resistant and hesitant. I'll even admit that I missed the first couple minutes because that I really wanted to go get that lime bar. When I came back up, I was immediately drawn to what he was saying because it diminished one of my major issues with him. I've felt that I don't know WHAT he's really going to do about any of the situations we've found ourselves in by having Bozo T. Clown as a president for 8 years. I've felt like I've had to go out of my way to view his plans on issues that concern me while I can turn on my TV at any given moment and hear him talk about another candidate. As I once said, "change don't do nothing but sound good."
But last night, he laid it out there…for all to see. And in addition to that, HE TALKED HIS ASS OFF. The last part…after he talked about the solutions and plans…was HOT. I am a sucka for a slick-talkin Negro…and he was talkin slick last night. I appreciated how I felt that he made an honest appeal to everyone. My mother stated that she didn't know if he was going to do all of that, but it surely sounded good.
But even a little more than that, he gave me……dare I say it…Hope.
Yep, that one little concept that I have been running from. Although I'd been feeling much of his speech, the part that really drove it home for me was when he began to talk about pessimistic Americans (i.e. me) who felt that the government was so broken that it could never be fixed. These people felt so let down by their government, and many fellow citizens, that they refused to believe that any real change could ever occur. (As the Black preachers says, "he had pulled onto my block.")
But then he began to bring it home about change REALLY being possible (I can't even believe I'm typing this y'all.). And I felt like, "ok, I can dig it." I saw him stumble a bit when he began to talk about our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters who should be able to…visit their loved ones in the hospital. I know he couldn't say they should "be able to get married, fools!" But I could forgive that because he went there. (I often use a politicians stance on GLBTQ rights to ascertain if they're truly down for change. Don't really know why.) I suppose that everyone wants to have some hope. Even if they think it might be a little irrational. And Barack tapped into that with me.
I had previously confessed to several friends (i.e. Kellee, Bukola, Brace, etc.) that I was envious of the Black community's enthusiasm over this man. I felt robbed of an experience that I badly wanted to have. I wanted to be extremely happy, hopeful, and proud when the first viable Black candidate came along, and I wasn't. I WAS happy that he provided so many Black people with a common positive cause to rally around and become excited about. I was happy to see little Black boys at the Taurus Steak shop yell, "ooooh mama, he got on a Obama shiiiiiirt! I WAS happy to see so many Black women crying and saying that they'd never thought this day would come, and that they were happy to be able to see it.
And in addition to that, I'm a free woman.
So, as my girl Keyshia Cole would say, "I changed myyy miiiind…"
I'm not going to wear buttons, t-shirts, caps, lanyards, water bottles, sweater vests, etc, with an "O" on them. I will still call Barack out if I think he's not on track. This is the job and duty of every American citizen.
But I'm voting for him. And now when I see someone on the bus with a pin on their lapel, I'll give the silent nod. Even though Bukola said she'd save me a seat on her proverbial Obama bus, I believe this free woman will drive herself.
Obama – Biden…2008.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Black Female Harassment
I’ve been trying to write a blog about a problem I’m having for a couple of weeks now. Although I’ve had this problem since high school, I have just recently begun to delve into the issue to try to figure out what I should do and how I should feel about it. The issue frustrates me so much that I’ve had trouble putting my feelings about it into words.
The problem is that of the harassment and verbal abuse I, and many other Black women have been the victim of at the hands (and mouths) of Black men. I know that, “harassment,” “verbal abuse,” and “victim,” seem like harsh terms to describe what many people deem as the normal interactions between Black men and women. However, I’m not interested in sugarcoating this shit.
I walked out of my house with my sister and before we could get to our block’s corner, a car-full of Black males had passed us leering and yelling, “ay girl,” among other things. As we walked back from our destination, a lone Black man trailed behind us making smacking noises that I guess were suppose to express his appreciation for what he saw. In between these two incidents, no less than three cars had passed holding Black men that stared at our bodies as if they were inspecting livestock.
Honestly, it is a rare occasion for me to step out of the house to go anywhere and return without at least one of these incidents occurring. Normally, while they are almost ALWAYS disrespectful, after the perpetrator sees that I am paying no attention to them and do not plan on acknowledging their presence or their words, they quietly move on. But then there are the times when my lack of interest is taken as an insult to said perpetrator. Those are the times when the men who had just been so complimentary and concerned about my relationship status become raging idiots, hurling insults through the air at me. All of a sudden I’m an uppity, ugly, fat, nasty, trifling, Black bitch and/or hoe.
I simply cannot express the amount of anger that flashes through me when this happens. It is all I can do to not pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at their already broken-down hoopties, or inform them that they must have mistaken me for their mothers. Of course, I do not have the option of retaliating against them and defending my honor because I know that these situations can quickly turn violent. This means that I often find myself attempting to smile as pleasantly as possible while explaining that I have a boyfriend (which I don’t, and which doesn’t seem to affect many of the perpetrators). This also means that there are many times that I don’t feel safe in my own community, although I am not bothering anyone nor inviting attention with my behavior.
This would probably be the perfect place in the blog for a paragraph giving all the explanations for this type of behavior. I could try and trace it back slavery (which is Black folks way of blaming everything wrong with us on white folks), blame it on rap, etc, etc, etc. But I won’t, because those are excuses for poor behavior, and there are already plenty people who will defend this behavior and these perpetrators to the end.
Also, all the excuses in the world won’t cover up the one true factor in play here: most Black men DO NOT respect Black women. We ARE just body parts to them. They DON’T see us as people. They DO think that we have a duty to respond to them. They DO think the possession of a penis means that we should want them and that we are obligated to respond favorably to them. They DO think they have the right to know our names and phone numbers.
What makes this situation worse is that it persists ONLY because of Black women’s responses to it. I am convinced that if no women responded to this behavior, it would stop. However, there are many Black women who feel that nothing is wrong with this behavior. In fact, they are flattered by it! They are flattered by men beckoning them over to their cars as if they were common streetwalkers. They are flattered by men yelling out obscene comments about their bodies as if they were on an auction block. They will actually stop to talk to the guy who obviously has nothing better to do than stand on a street corner and harass every woman who catches his eye (and then be surprised when he turns out to be a complete deadbeat, in EVERY sense of the word). It never ceases to amaze me how women will give their phone numbers out to complete strangers after only minutes of trivial conversation.
I never thought it possible, but this behavior (along with a lot of Black males’ other behavioral traits) is really making me view the Black community differently. In fact, its making me question if the “Black community” even exists any longer, and if this is what it is, do I want to be a part of it? Do I want to be part of a community where even the women are taught not to respect the women in it? Do I want to be part of a community where the only intraracial crime that’s taken seriously is male-on-male variety? Do I want to be part of a community that only speaks up for me when a white man has spoken against me? Do I want to be part of a community 70% of the women in it won’t get married and this is seen as the women’s faults? Do I want to be part of a community that defends male criminals while tearing down their victims? Do I want to be part of THAT? (HINT: The harassment issue is not the only subject that has me disenchanted with the Black community right now.)
I suspect the answer will always be yes. But, catch me if/when I come back in a year after being away from the “African-American community.” We’ll see what I say then.
The problem is that of the harassment and verbal abuse I, and many other Black women have been the victim of at the hands (and mouths) of Black men. I know that, “harassment,” “verbal abuse,” and “victim,” seem like harsh terms to describe what many people deem as the normal interactions between Black men and women. However, I’m not interested in sugarcoating this shit.
I walked out of my house with my sister and before we could get to our block’s corner, a car-full of Black males had passed us leering and yelling, “ay girl,” among other things. As we walked back from our destination, a lone Black man trailed behind us making smacking noises that I guess were suppose to express his appreciation for what he saw. In between these two incidents, no less than three cars had passed holding Black men that stared at our bodies as if they were inspecting livestock.
Honestly, it is a rare occasion for me to step out of the house to go anywhere and return without at least one of these incidents occurring. Normally, while they are almost ALWAYS disrespectful, after the perpetrator sees that I am paying no attention to them and do not plan on acknowledging their presence or their words, they quietly move on. But then there are the times when my lack of interest is taken as an insult to said perpetrator. Those are the times when the men who had just been so complimentary and concerned about my relationship status become raging idiots, hurling insults through the air at me. All of a sudden I’m an uppity, ugly, fat, nasty, trifling, Black bitch and/or hoe.
I simply cannot express the amount of anger that flashes through me when this happens. It is all I can do to not pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at their already broken-down hoopties, or inform them that they must have mistaken me for their mothers. Of course, I do not have the option of retaliating against them and defending my honor because I know that these situations can quickly turn violent. This means that I often find myself attempting to smile as pleasantly as possible while explaining that I have a boyfriend (which I don’t, and which doesn’t seem to affect many of the perpetrators). This also means that there are many times that I don’t feel safe in my own community, although I am not bothering anyone nor inviting attention with my behavior.
This would probably be the perfect place in the blog for a paragraph giving all the explanations for this type of behavior. I could try and trace it back slavery (which is Black folks way of blaming everything wrong with us on white folks), blame it on rap, etc, etc, etc. But I won’t, because those are excuses for poor behavior, and there are already plenty people who will defend this behavior and these perpetrators to the end.
Also, all the excuses in the world won’t cover up the one true factor in play here: most Black men DO NOT respect Black women. We ARE just body parts to them. They DON’T see us as people. They DO think that we have a duty to respond to them. They DO think the possession of a penis means that we should want them and that we are obligated to respond favorably to them. They DO think they have the right to know our names and phone numbers.
What makes this situation worse is that it persists ONLY because of Black women’s responses to it. I am convinced that if no women responded to this behavior, it would stop. However, there are many Black women who feel that nothing is wrong with this behavior. In fact, they are flattered by it! They are flattered by men beckoning them over to their cars as if they were common streetwalkers. They are flattered by men yelling out obscene comments about their bodies as if they were on an auction block. They will actually stop to talk to the guy who obviously has nothing better to do than stand on a street corner and harass every woman who catches his eye (and then be surprised when he turns out to be a complete deadbeat, in EVERY sense of the word). It never ceases to amaze me how women will give their phone numbers out to complete strangers after only minutes of trivial conversation.
I never thought it possible, but this behavior (along with a lot of Black males’ other behavioral traits) is really making me view the Black community differently. In fact, its making me question if the “Black community” even exists any longer, and if this is what it is, do I want to be a part of it? Do I want to be part of a community where even the women are taught not to respect the women in it? Do I want to be part of a community where the only intraracial crime that’s taken seriously is male-on-male variety? Do I want to be part of a community that only speaks up for me when a white man has spoken against me? Do I want to be part of a community 70% of the women in it won’t get married and this is seen as the women’s faults? Do I want to be part of a community that defends male criminals while tearing down their victims? Do I want to be part of THAT? (HINT: The harassment issue is not the only subject that has me disenchanted with the Black community right now.)
I suspect the answer will always be yes. But, catch me if/when I come back in a year after being away from the “African-American community.” We’ll see what I say then.
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