head check

Have you ever had a really strong emotional reaction, only to later check yourself and say "yanno, it really ain't that serious..."?

it ain't my fault:: I'm listening to the radio this morning, and Frank Ski's regurgitating that old Rev. Willie Wilson drama. You remember, the whole "the whole gay 'problem' is black women's fault.." thang I ranted about a while back? Yeah, with the Million More Movement this past weekend, and Keith Boykin being prevented from speaking there, Frank wanted to rehash Rev. Wilson's comments. Click the links if you want to see how that whole thing started.

the heat:: Weeelll...I felt the ire rising up in me again, and dialed the station's number several times trying to get on. I really wanted to speak my piece about Rev. Wilson's overarching indictment of the black community for its "immoral" behavior, and his blaming lesbianism on black women's independence. As fate would have it, not only couldn't I get through, but then the folks at the station entered tangent-land. They started talking about independent women, and someone at the station chimed in with the "yeah, I've seen those sistas in the club, you know the type - they look really unapproachable. I just leave them alone..."

Yes, my internal temperature went from about 98° to 106°. And that's when the head check started. Why would I get incensed about this person's comments? Or Rev. Wilson's comments for that matter...

check 1:: ...so it must've hit a nerve. I mean, I've already ranted about this before, so what gives? My homeboys have told me that amongst other things, I look "mean" or "married" or "content " or "aloof" or "like I already have somebody" when I go out, which is supposed to explain why I don't get hit on anymore. (Well, that and this extra XX lbs I'm carrying, but this is the Deep South, and big girls get love down here, so antywho...) My homegirls do say I'm completely clueless when it comes to flirting, and I'll admit my skills may be a lil rusty (read: so rusty they've completely disintegrated..lol). But why do we have to be referred to as "those sistas", as if we have a third eye, or come carrying Louis Vuitton steamer trunks or something?

check 2:: So, then my coworker and I head to Walmart, and she's men-shopping on my behalf, while I pick out fruit:
coworker: "what about him over there - he looks professional...
me: "oh no! receding hairline - uhn-uhn, ain't feeling that.
coworker: "ok, what about the guy over in the bank? he's got on a nice blue suit.."
me: "I didn't see him really, but he looks short. next!"
coworker: "ok, what about this guy over here..."
me: "oh HELL naw - he's gay"
coworker: "he is NOT - just because he's dressed nice does NOT equal gay..."
me: "your gaydar is broke. He ain't even interested in me..."
coworker: "ok, that's it - I am SO done fooling with you"

check 3:: I'm trying y'all, I really am. I love men. Love them. But I don't know if it's that I've been single since, I dunno - forever! Charge this to my head, and not my heart, but it really seems to me that men in my age range aren't doing much for me. Between the booty do's, the marginal employment, the eternal playas & brothas that think monogamy is a non-sexually transmitted disease; after getting past the weak 1980's game (it is 2005), the dress socks with shorts & sandals, any potential ex-wife or baby-mama drama and ensuring that they haven't been, or aren't currently fleeing from some institution (penal, marriage, mental or other...); as a single woman over 35 (heck pushing 40), I'm left with....____________?

voice of smeagol: "I don't want to say the word....don't make me say it. It burns, my precious....it buuuurrrnnnnsss.....

I'm left with brothers that are sorry!

the boiling point:: I refuse to lower my standards any more than I already have. Hell, that's the most dangerous problem in the black community today, is that we've all lowered our standards: for ourselves, our relationships, our career expectations, our love interests, our lives. Yes, I am realistically picky. I know that Chi McBride already has a wife, and Boris Kudjoe isn't going to holler at me. But I'll be damned if I settle for some brotha who is married, broke, homeless or whose sexuality is questionable, just because "somebody is better than nobody". F&*% that!

the real head check - the caveat:: Maintaining my standards doesn't mean I have to give every guy that I encounter the "gas face". Although I disagreed with most of Joy Jones' "Scaring our Men" article for the Washington Post, there may have been a grain (a solo one) of truth in it. On an individual level, I could smile more. I could value my femininity more, and share that with the world. I could take down the "game face" I use at work & school, and reveal more of the inner saga, instead of showing everyone I meet that hard shell. There's a huge difference between being vulnerable, and exposing your vulnerability. And I'm guessing that's what guys are talking about when they refer to "those" women.

but back to the Million More discussion...:: One of the invited guests on Frank's show brought up a really good point. The whole point of the original march was to empower men, to become stronger leaders in their homes & communities, and to allow them to atone for any perceived "trespasses" that they've engaged in in their role as men, fathers, husbands and community leaders. The guest's excellent question was, whether they've achieved any of those goals? On a personal note, I'm asking myself - what am I doing to "bridge" that gap between myself, and the brother's I love so much? As a strong, intellectual, independent black woman, what am I doing to ascend to my role as a woman, mother, wife and community leader. I won't co-sign anyone else's bullshyt, but I do have some internal checking to do.