Well, it's happened. My 30th birthday has come and gone. Do I feel older? Physically? No. Emotionally? Yes. As a middle schooler, I could not wait to be in my 30s. Little did I know then the stigmas that would be attached to being *gasp* SINGLE and 30...at the same time. I know, I know...terrible. How could I let such a thing happen? Being a 30 year old single black woman in the South must mean I'm too picky, right? Heaven forbid it mean this society is producing a mass amount of a creature called the "man-child" commonly mistaken for a real man. I'm sure our society would never encourage a twisted, warped sense of entitlement in it's young people that leads these beasts to insist on this purpetual childhood where they never have to grow up/nut up, learn about delayed gratification or put someone else's needs before their own. May it never be! Well, guess what, IT BE! Parents are telling their children they are special one too many times, and yeah, here we are. I bet Obama was told he was special a lot.
I am absolutely sickened by the idea that as women get older, they should lower their standards when it comes to finding and keeping a mate. Have we forgotten one key factor? Women get BETTER as we age! As far as appearance goes, we look more grown up, less like the girls on Girls Gone Wild and more like Wonder Woman or Xena-Warrior Princess. Intellectually, we're sharper, wiser, more discerning and not worried about appearing "too smart". We've realized intelligence is sexy! Bear with me on this one (if you are ultra conservative, you may need to turn away), sexually, women peak much later than men (like the 30s/40s). That's all I'm gonna say about that. We are more confident in our abilities and our careers are established. In this day and age, most of us have/are working towards buying our first home and are financially responsible. Many people compare women to a fine wine, but I saw we are more like a good bourbon. The older we get, the more well rounded and smooth we become...without losing our strength. Does this sound like the type of woman who should/has to settle for whatever stagnant, immature caveman wanders out into light after 8 hours of video games to club some unsuspecting vixen over the head, and drag her back to his Cheeto and Axe body spray scented man cave? HELL NO! The only difference between 30somethings and the youngn's out there, is that WE KNOW BETTER! I hear so many young ladies talking about thinking all of the foolishness these little boys out there are doing is "cute" and something they will "grow out of". I am a grown woman...what is wrong with expecting one of my peers to be grown as well? NOTHING! All I can say is, the older I get, the better I get, so a potential mate better bring his A game.
Showing posts with label black woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black woman. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Absolute weariness
As of late, with all the racial tension being flung about, I hear a lot of "Blacks need to just get over it" and "They blow things out of proportion." So desperate are some to assure themselves and others that race doesn't matter. People comment on experiences they know nothing of, and will likely never have to endure. I do not hide behind being black, nor do I allow it to be all that defines me. I do not expect hand-outs based on my race, and I have no interest in being pitied. What I am about to share is merely to allow those who will never experience these things an opportunity to see why some black parents give their children a whole different set of instructions before doing things like going to school, going for a walk, or dating.
In the 8th grade, my social studies teacher decided to do an experiment of sorts. When my classmates and I walked into the room, she had boys line up on one side and girls line up on the other. She instructed us to look at the person standing across from us. We were then told to walk towards that person and stand shoulder to shoulder with them. She then called each pair up and "married" us. Afterwards, she explained that in some Native American tribes, mass arranged marriages were done like that. She said we were "married" to that person for the rest of the 6 weeks. It was awkward because we were given various tasks to do as a couple. I was paired with a young man who can best be described as grunge-goth. He was nerdy, had a weird group of friends who all looked the same (like...the exact same, but more on that later). I tended to have friends from several different social circles, so it wasn't a big deal to be "married" to the outcast sort of guy. The only problem came when I realized he was taking the assignment a bit too seriously. In his mind, our "marriage" continued until the end of the year. He would frequently refer to me as his wife and give me the most unsettling looks. Occasionally, I would catch his friends giving me the same looks.
In 9th grade, we were loosely associated with each other, he was on the fringe of my social circles. Every once in a while, he'd make a pass at me, still refering to our "marriage". Towards the end of the year, I was totally crept out by him. 10th grade was THE year, though. He began to stalk me. By mid year, he'd begun stalking me with his friends...who all had a certain...look (I mean, everyone goes through a head-shaving phase, right?). Frequently, they would be waiting for me after soccer or orchestra practice. They'd corner me and talk about how they'd pass me around their group...I could be everyone's "wife". They would make lewd gestures, and talk about how afterwards, they'd toss gas on me and set me on fire. The entire school year, this persisted. Thankfully, I was always able to out run them, physical fitness wasn't as important as learning firearms, it seems. When I'd pass any of them in the hall, they would mutter something about me being a filthy n!&&#%. One day, after soccer practice, I had to go upstairs at the school to get something from my locker. I don't know how they knew I would come, but the whole building was cleared. They stood there waiting for me with smirks on their faces. "Ready to die, wifey?" was my greeting.
They started describing what they were going to do to me, both sexual and non. Coming fresh from practice, my kleats still on, I kicked the living hell out of someone's jewel purse, and ran. Downstairs, blindly looking for someone...a janitor, SOMEONE. Desperate, I ran to my coach's room. He was there talking to another player. When I burst into the room, he sent the player away, and asked what was wrong. I told him everything, from 8th grade until that point. Never, had I seen him so mad. He turned purple, and left the room. Returning moments later, he told me to get my things, then he escorted me to my mom's car parked out front. I begged him not to tell her, which he didn't. The next morning, I went to his room, and he told me that he'd reported everything to the principle, and that I would have to talk to them. I freaked out, because I didn't want to be burned alive...didn't want to be raped. He looked me right in my eyes and said, "I will NEVER let them hurt you." I was called in to the principal's office, and given a legal pad. He told me to write everything that had been said, describe the gestures and anything else that had been done to me. I filled up half the legal pad and had to stop because my hand hurt and I couldn't remember everything exactly. The first few pages were soaked with my tears. I was so ashamed because I had let it all happen. In my head, I was as much to blame as those guys were. (Of course I understand now that it was not my fault, at all). When the principal read some of what I'd written, he looked ill. He looked at me, and looked at the paper again. The silence was killing me. He gave me tissues, and told me to take some time to compose myself before returning to class. His voice, shaking with emotion, swore, "They will NEVER hurt you." I never saw that guy, or his friends ever again. I have no idea what happened to them. For a while, I feared I'd see a burning cross in the yard or be jumped suddenly. Nothing happened. I didn't so much as hear their names ever again.
Still with me? Continuing on..
Junior year of high school brought the excitement of getting to go to prom. A new guy had moved into town, and I was instantly drawn to him. We became the best of friends, and since he was a year younger, I had to ask him to prom. I was so looking forward to it! I got the tickets, and had begun dress shopping. One night, he called me sounding horribly depressed. I asked him what was going on, and he said, "My parents found out I was going to prom with a black girl...they said I can't go." I immediately deflated. It had never crossed my mind that his parents would have those sentiments. His parents grilled him daily, to find out whether or not he'd continued interacting with me. We hid our friendship from them. He went from being a great, Jesus-loving guy to someone I eventually didn't recognize. We tried to remain friends, but he began to date a girl who absolutely hated me. She knew how his parents felt about me, so she began to report to them that he and I still communicated. They withdrew him from the school, and I never heard from him again.
Many things have happened since then, thankfully few have been as painful as the above examples. We hear so much about how hard things are for black men, but little light is shed on the struggle of black women. Granted, my experiences are not typical, but sadly, they are not that unique.
I'm sorry it's so hard for black people to "get over it". That we still see things a little differently sometimes. I'll be sure to try a little harder.
In the 8th grade, my social studies teacher decided to do an experiment of sorts. When my classmates and I walked into the room, she had boys line up on one side and girls line up on the other. She instructed us to look at the person standing across from us. We were then told to walk towards that person and stand shoulder to shoulder with them. She then called each pair up and "married" us. Afterwards, she explained that in some Native American tribes, mass arranged marriages were done like that. She said we were "married" to that person for the rest of the 6 weeks. It was awkward because we were given various tasks to do as a couple. I was paired with a young man who can best be described as grunge-goth. He was nerdy, had a weird group of friends who all looked the same (like...the exact same, but more on that later). I tended to have friends from several different social circles, so it wasn't a big deal to be "married" to the outcast sort of guy. The only problem came when I realized he was taking the assignment a bit too seriously. In his mind, our "marriage" continued until the end of the year. He would frequently refer to me as his wife and give me the most unsettling looks. Occasionally, I would catch his friends giving me the same looks.
In 9th grade, we were loosely associated with each other, he was on the fringe of my social circles. Every once in a while, he'd make a pass at me, still refering to our "marriage". Towards the end of the year, I was totally crept out by him. 10th grade was THE year, though. He began to stalk me. By mid year, he'd begun stalking me with his friends...who all had a certain...look (I mean, everyone goes through a head-shaving phase, right?). Frequently, they would be waiting for me after soccer or orchestra practice. They'd corner me and talk about how they'd pass me around their group...I could be everyone's "wife". They would make lewd gestures, and talk about how afterwards, they'd toss gas on me and set me on fire. The entire school year, this persisted. Thankfully, I was always able to out run them, physical fitness wasn't as important as learning firearms, it seems. When I'd pass any of them in the hall, they would mutter something about me being a filthy n!&&#%. One day, after soccer practice, I had to go upstairs at the school to get something from my locker. I don't know how they knew I would come, but the whole building was cleared. They stood there waiting for me with smirks on their faces. "Ready to die, wifey?" was my greeting.
They started describing what they were going to do to me, both sexual and non. Coming fresh from practice, my kleats still on, I kicked the living hell out of someone's jewel purse, and ran. Downstairs, blindly looking for someone...a janitor, SOMEONE. Desperate, I ran to my coach's room. He was there talking to another player. When I burst into the room, he sent the player away, and asked what was wrong. I told him everything, from 8th grade until that point. Never, had I seen him so mad. He turned purple, and left the room. Returning moments later, he told me to get my things, then he escorted me to my mom's car parked out front. I begged him not to tell her, which he didn't. The next morning, I went to his room, and he told me that he'd reported everything to the principle, and that I would have to talk to them. I freaked out, because I didn't want to be burned alive...didn't want to be raped. He looked me right in my eyes and said, "I will NEVER let them hurt you." I was called in to the principal's office, and given a legal pad. He told me to write everything that had been said, describe the gestures and anything else that had been done to me. I filled up half the legal pad and had to stop because my hand hurt and I couldn't remember everything exactly. The first few pages were soaked with my tears. I was so ashamed because I had let it all happen. In my head, I was as much to blame as those guys were. (Of course I understand now that it was not my fault, at all). When the principal read some of what I'd written, he looked ill. He looked at me, and looked at the paper again. The silence was killing me. He gave me tissues, and told me to take some time to compose myself before returning to class. His voice, shaking with emotion, swore, "They will NEVER hurt you." I never saw that guy, or his friends ever again. I have no idea what happened to them. For a while, I feared I'd see a burning cross in the yard or be jumped suddenly. Nothing happened. I didn't so much as hear their names ever again.
Still with me? Continuing on..
Junior year of high school brought the excitement of getting to go to prom. A new guy had moved into town, and I was instantly drawn to him. We became the best of friends, and since he was a year younger, I had to ask him to prom. I was so looking forward to it! I got the tickets, and had begun dress shopping. One night, he called me sounding horribly depressed. I asked him what was going on, and he said, "My parents found out I was going to prom with a black girl...they said I can't go." I immediately deflated. It had never crossed my mind that his parents would have those sentiments. His parents grilled him daily, to find out whether or not he'd continued interacting with me. We hid our friendship from them. He went from being a great, Jesus-loving guy to someone I eventually didn't recognize. We tried to remain friends, but he began to date a girl who absolutely hated me. She knew how his parents felt about me, so she began to report to them that he and I still communicated. They withdrew him from the school, and I never heard from him again.
Many things have happened since then, thankfully few have been as painful as the above examples. We hear so much about how hard things are for black men, but little light is shed on the struggle of black women. Granted, my experiences are not typical, but sadly, they are not that unique.
I'm sorry it's so hard for black people to "get over it". That we still see things a little differently sometimes. I'll be sure to try a little harder.
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