Friday, October 10, 2014

Published 9:51 AM by with 4 comments

Date? Me?



Dating for me has always been a difficult task. Living in the DMV, it was easy enough because there were so many people. It was easy because in those thickets of people, within a few days, the interested would show themselves.

Usually in 21 days (3 complete weeks) the person would show their full intentions or self. It is easy to wait 21 days to ‘get into someone’ . . . Relationships with me are all or nothing. As I reflect, the men who became ‘boyfriends’ and ultimately a husband, were ‘with it’ day one. We morphed into easy relationship status over 21 days. Funny thing, the relationships lasted for years – one was 6 years, another 7, and finally my marriage. The marriage was the least amount of time spent, but the easiest to get into. (I’ll touch on that later, much later)


People often discuss re-entry into society after being in jail; few ever discuss re-entry into dating after a long relationship. It. Is. A. Horror. Show. I have found myself perplexed and mortified. I have several male platonic friends – true friends – and we often giggle at ourselves as we re-cap our dates, relationships, and for them, situationships.

Now, people ‘talk’, ‘see each other’, ‘date’, ‘hang out’ and ‘sex’. Each category is difficult to navigate. There is no longer a natural progression of events. And honestly, after being in a few of these situations, I have opted out of the dating game(s). In opting out, I have a keen eye for people who date and appear to be in love. I haven’t stopped loving love.


What I cannot understand is how interracial dating – or the improved treatment of the non-black woman - manifests. I have had several conversations with my friends, men and women, about this. I have seen memes on Facebook about this. I have had discussions on FB about this. Why?

Because I love to SEE love, I am often smiling when I see a man kiss his woman, or open the door for her, or become a gentleman in a few moments while in her presence. One day, I was at the park writing and witnessed love.

Then I was shocked.


He held her hand.


He nuzzled her.


He whispered in her ear.


When they approached the car, he opened and closed the door for her.


He did all the things my friends want done.


I smiled – then I noticed . . . THAT WAS MY FRIEND’s EX . . . . and he was doing all the things she wanted – with and for another woman.


A white woman.


He noticed me looking. I’m sure he thought I was disgusted, (I Wasn’t) He smiled, waved and left. Unlike most, I didn’t reach for my phone to make a call. I sat and really thought about what I saw. I had honestly witnessed love . . . the strong Black man, showing his strength in being a gentleman, showing his love to his woman – and enjoying it.


Then I had to ask – why not her? And Why her?

I get it.

We are more diverse. I have no problem with interracial dating. Love is love.


Right?


But then, I recall The Cosby Show, Family Matters, and a few others that depicted the strength of Black Love – two black people raising a family together, loving, caring, fighting, being in the struggle together and understanding one another – and the power they had. The unity. While fictional on TV, it was real in my home; my family. The first relationship I witnessed was my parents, then grandparents, then extended family. I saw their love and strength almost daily.


*******


Then I did reach for my phone to call the litany of friends – men. I asked, “Do you date white women?” While most immediately said no, several understood why so many opt for the white woman. According to men, the white women – or non-American Black women – are easier to get along with.


Huh?

Per them, Black women (not me, of course!) (isnt that what they all say?) are very difficult to handle. Black women complain, talk too much, loud, silly, and REFUSE to have sex on a regular basis, bossy, selfish – the list went on and on.

Finally, one (male friend) said, “It’s our fault. We have lied to you, treated you poorly, cheated, the list goes on – and you all never got over it. We started young and ruined you (the Black woman) in the process.” I was shocked beyond words. So, if that is the case, why not come back and love us the way we want to be loved?


Fear.


Work.



It takes a great deal of patience and courage to return to someone you’ve hurt. Once the intimate spaces have been shared and exposed, it is hard to get back to that, if exploited. Instead of healing the wounds, it is easier to move forward - move into a different relationship. (This is why I have opted out)


In selecting a mate and realizing they have encountered far too many Black women who are very hurt, they are chosen by non-American/non-Black women. In that, often they are sought after – chased. Often, in that, the man is the trophy. I am told in interracial dating – Black man/white Woman, the Black man has found love, ease, and support.

We bicker, nag, and push.


They offer soft words.


We are harsh and agitated.


As Black women read this, I am sure some will roll their eyes, and necks, or think I am crazy --- others will simply ignore this. In some forums (if it makes it there) some will discuss me and my lack of dating. But this is written for reflection.


Men are what women create. I have a son. The way he treats women will be a direct reflection of what type of mother I am, how I teach him to treat women, and what he actually sees from the men in my family. If I teach him to run through – he will. If I teach him to be respectful and create friendships, he will. If I had a daughter, it would be the same.

As I reflect, I have to be honest – I have been hurt. In that hurt, I have devastated some men. Exacting that devastation, I have seen them run to other races, damming black women to date hell forever. (I’m sorry). I have also heard the hurt in my male friends’ voices and seen it in the creases of their smiles – if they were honest, often this crazy treatment is a direct result of their karma.


Sadly, most do not reflect. Most walk around hurt. In that hurt, we attract and sustain what and who we are OR we attract those who are willing to do whatever it takes to be with us. We will maintain and sustain a relationship we know we don’t want or like only because we feel the need to be with someone who likes us more than we like them or ourselves at that moment. Often those relationships lead to marriage.


Some will argue Black men who marry and date white women hate themselves and their mothers. It’s often not that deep. I think if we were to be really real, in our hurt, we have driven people away. In our heart, we have been difficult to deal with and harder on the next man because of what the last man did. . .


Is that fair?


Women are the backbone of society.


When the backbone is broken, so is everything else.

While this did not deeply engage the Black man/white woman phenomena, I hope it helps with the reflection of who we are and how we show up. At the crux of this matter, we all want to be love and accepted.


Black Men, what are you doing to heal your sister?

Black Women, what are you doing to support your brother?


Once we heal, then we can again attract and love each other to (re)build our community, create powerful children, and ultimately work together u love.


. . . As Free as I Wanna Be . . .

Goal D Locs

4 comments:

  1. Very well said! It is my hope thet the more informed we become about what is the more we will confess and speak out. Depression does not look the same in everyone. Yes, for some it is mistaken as "Anger Management " issues or she's an alcoholic when the depression came first and she's self medicating. Well said my friend!

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  2. Great article. Very balanced. I've never really noticed nonblack women being treated better per se. However I acknowledge that I really don't pay attention. I do think it's a different vibe. The stressors are different.

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  3. Yes, the propaganda is working. Better understanding the signs is critical.

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  4. Marcus, that's my motivation, to expose and educate so that the shame and misconceptions can stop. This is a crisis for us.

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