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.