When Did the Single Black Woman Become So Weak?

downloadMore and more every day I see some new series being created or some new character in a series being slowly changed from strong to weak. Where does this come from and when did it start happening.

Let’s take a look at some of the shows of today:

Scandal – when Scandal first showed its face I was intrigued by it because it depicted a strong black woman making her mark in the world. She was the “fixer” and there was nothing that she and her team couldn’t handle because they were gladiators; gladiators in suits as they liked to say. Every Thursday night I would be glued to the screen to see another new twist and turn and be amazed at how well she handled herself but then I started to wonder where Olivia’s man was. As strong as a woman or even a black woman appears to be she always wants a man or is supposed to have someone who she could tell her deepest and darkest secrets to and sometimes I started thinking that maybe it was Harrison because he seemed to be a match for her character. I think somehow I started making up a romance for them that surely was not there. Then the biggest regret of the year showed its ugly head, who was her man, who was the man who would make a smile appear on her face when she didn’t feel like smiling? Well it was none other than the scripted President of the United States, so not only were they making Olivia Pope, the professional extraordinaire, into being a home wrecker but she was also degrading the image of the President. Fantastic!!! So I continued watching and everyone including some of my friends started raving about the chemistry between them, chemistry that I never saw or to this day see. I won’t say that I am difficult and that once cheating enters the mix that I immediately shut down and start judging. Hell I have watched The Good Wife and I love the fact that Will and Alicia hooked up and by hooked up I mean made me wish for a couple of moments that I was Alicia because Will is one specimen that I would love to get my hands on. For those of you not knowing about the show – Alicia was and still is married to a man whose name is not Will, now if Olivia Pope wants to know what chemistry is supposed to resemble watch those two. They worked at the same law firm and if they smiled at each other, the chemistry was there, if they glanced at each other across the room I think they thought it was only two of them in the world then. Compared to Olivia Pope and Fitz, they did not and still do not come close.

Fitz, however, is her weakness. He is the person that transforms her from being the strong black woman she is portrayed to be to a weaker version. Stand up for yourself Olivia; stand up for what you know is right and make black women appear a little stronger, make him squirm a little longer, demand his respect. There was a time when she made a statement which most women used as their anthem, “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me!” Gladiators don’t cry, those words Harrison uttered when the show started and from then in almost every episode Olivia has been crying over Fitz. Her father made me laugh when he told Fitz that he is a boy and that my friend is why Daddy Pope deserves an award because truer words were never spoken. Olivia handle the situation, handle the President, stop letting him belittle you, find a strong man who you would want your kids to call daddy and leave the little boy alone.

Then her cousin was born, who is her cousin? None other than Mary Jane from “Being Mary Jane”, another strong black woman, professional, taking care of her family but still searching for someone to take care of her. This is not what makes her weak because these are things that every woman wants including me. Who doesn’t want a man to come swooping in and save you when you have been in the office all day and night and only glanced at the sun when you arrived the morning. Men have hurt her, and yes women can relate to that but it is how you react when men hurt you that makes you weak, some people are even aware that they are weak and openly admit it but what I want to know is when did we as black women get so weak? Even Keisha who stars in “Single Ladies”, who would tell off a bat if he flew too close has started to become a weaker character than what she first was introduced to us as. Is it the love that we have for these men, the way that we would do anything to make them happy that makes us into a weaker sex? We were taught that if a man hurts you and we were taught to turn the cold shoulder to him, ignore his calls, threaten to talk about him to your mutual friends and do everything but move across state lines to get away from him.

In reality what do we really do? We pretend that is what, at first we may ignore his call, we may even change his name to, “Do Not Call” or “Idiot” or something more extreme, anything to make us not call or text him. We could even delete the number all together but what good is that when it is programmed into our mind like what time our favorite show comes on. We see that number calling and we could be putting gas in the car or getting ready to pick up a bag of groceries with our independent selves and we turn to putty. We may think of answering on the fourth ring just to make him squirm but who are we kidding we answer on the first just in case he missed dialed you or in case he puts down fast. Our heart is beating fast, our mouths may start to water, we want to know what he wants and if he says he wants to pass by, we run out of wherever we are to hurry home and make ourselves ready for “the talk”. Who are we kidding, we are getting ready for some hot sex because no one does it better than him but again when did we get so weak? Was it when the men stepped up their game and started pleasuring you in words and actions, when you loved them a little bit more than you did yesterday? When did it happen? There are times that even I have been weak and felt as though I was looking at myself but somehow couldn’t help myself. The black woman has become dependent I think on emotion, she wants to know when a man can please her. She may want her feet rubbed when she gets home after a long, long day. She wants someone to take care of her because she is sick and tired taking care of herself and I can hear the women saying “Amen” here. She wants to be loved, she wants attention, she wants to be the center of a man’s attention and this is not being called weak, it’s called “being a black woman in a society so full of hate that you crave that little bit of affection no matter the hands it may come from or the lives you may ruin, it’s called wanting to be happy, it’s called wanted to be wanted and it’s called being a woman.”

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Who Said Dreams Don’t Come True

I had finally arrived in Canada, after so much years of longing for an experience in this beautiful country, I was finally here. As soon as the plane landed, my heart somersaulted in jubilation and there was a broad smile on my face. Anyone sitting there watching me would have probably thought I had won the lottery or had felt a baby kick in my stomach for the first time but alas it was nothing like that; only that one of my dreams had finally come true.

I moved through Immigration and Customs like a breeze, I was here to have fun and start my vacation. For years my vacation plans had escaped me, I had always wanted to experience a cabin in the woods and my friends had thought that I was crazy because no one ever wanted to vacation in the woods, well now except for me. From a young child, I had watched movies featuring a cabin in the woods, the majestic fireplace, the chopping of wood, the trees, the beautiful surroundings and the animals. Let’s not forget the animals, I had once told a past love of my deep longing to see a bear in person and he had laughed while I sat there quietly listening to his bursts of laughter but I was serious and this he soon realized. He told me that bears open doors and kill people and that seemingly fascinated me even more. Now this was my time; this year I had more time and I could have planned it different.

Finally outside now, I had time to take in all of my beautiful surroundings, of course one thing that was “in my face” was how cold it was. I think this was what they were talking about, the cold, being from Barbados our coldest nights were nothing compared to this. I laughed to myself knowing that when they asked me how the flight was that they would be silently listening for me to cry and ask why they allowed me to come but I was stronger than that. I would sound elated and tell them that it was fantastic and I was having the time of my life.

My past love who had laughed at me had lived here but it was not the occasion for us to hook up. He was in the past and as much times as we would return to each other’s embraces this was not it. He had wanted both of us to move on and as hard as it might have been for me to hear that I knew it was for the best. Every time he had called before my trip, I had remained mum on what I was doing for my vacation, I didn’t lie, I just changed the subject. Seeing me turn up on his doorstep or knowing that I was coming was not something in my plans but I had arranged for one of our mutual friends to pick me up from the airport and take me to the cabin.

I waited probably no more than ten minutes before I saw Brett’s jeep in front of me, he smiled broadly as I swung in. He was the one that I had liaised with when I started planning my vacation. He had always told me that even though we had met through Tank that he would always be my friend; my loyal friend too because he never told Tank of my impending visit. We talked and laughed on the journey as I tried to take in as much scenery as I could, we stopped on the way at a little eatery and either I had not realised how much I was starving or the food was really good. We talked briefly of Tank, I wanted to know how he was doing but I didn’t want to know at the same time. I didn’t want to know if he had a girlfriend now; some things were better of not knowing. I wasn’t very good at hiding my thoughts because Brett was quick to ask what was wrong and I lied again and said nothing. He seemed to believe me or at least respected the fact that I didn’t want to talk and changed the subject. He started telling me about the groceries he had stocked the place with, when he had come to Barbados I had showed him around and he had wanted to repay my hospitality since then.

We made our way to the cabin now, the roads were not as bad as I thought they would have been. I was picturing a more rustic setting and soon we came to a stop. Before me stood the most beautiful cabin I had ever seen, not that I had seen that much as I had only seen them online or on television. I opened the door and jumped out from the jeep and my boots sunk deep into the fluffy snow. The crunch the boots made when they impacted the snow was exciting and I tried not to stay there too long because my feet would soon start freezing as I only wore one pair of socks. He took my bags from the back of the jeep and we made our way up the few wooden steps to my new vacation spot. This would be 3 weeks of the most magical journey I would have ever ventured on in my thirty-two years. He showed me around the house before he bid me adieu, he had some things to take care of and thank God there was a telephone here, I wanted a rustic vacation but I still needed to be practical. He said he would check on me later, we shared a hug – an awkward one too because I stumbled over a floor board and we laughed at it. As I closed the door behind him I did a happy dance and smiled. “Welcome to the best vacation we would ever have, Ms Browne” and me and my alter ego danced some more.

The first week flew like magic, I spent the time exploring my surroundings with a camera I had bought before I left home and a long stick in case I saw anything that needed a beating. It was magical, seeing the snow as it hung onto tree branches and as it continued to sprinkle the earth. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of a deer as it peeped at me before leaping and bounding away. Deer were as shy as the Black Belly sheep we had back home, I guess somehow they were all related. After days of exploration, I would resort back to the cabin and work on my writing. A few years back, I say a few years because I could never remember exactly when I had published my first book, “The Dream to Reality: Marianne’s Story”. Sometimes I would Google myself so that I could remember that part of my life when I was blissfully happy and thought that it would never change but trying to recollect that time now only brought a tear to trickle down my cheek. What was the book about? The book was about an Accountant, so lost in both her professional and personal life and she had sought refuge in the arm of many an undeserving man until she rekindled a relationship with one of her school mates. I usually go the fictional route but this story was part truth as the man did exist. He was a school mate and I had loved him with every fiber of my being until he broke my heart. He broke my heart before I could have finished the book, I often thought that maybe if I had finished it before and not procrastinate so much that he would have stuck around. There were so many “what if” moments that I went through but I still went ahead and published it, the royalty cheques stopped coming but through it all the story was out there. I even made the ending great, I didn’t speak of the heartache I endured but instead spoke of marriage and the beginning to our new life; a beginning that never happened.

For more of the story, I will publish the link later so you guys can read up on my fictional adventure. I will publish it on Triond but it first has to be approved so once that is done I will upload the link under the same title as this. Feedback is welcomed….

Relationships: what are they again?

I know I promised to write about the new series, “Being Mary Jane” and I always try to uphold a promise. Even though the above subject is pretty universal and talks about relationships or what they seem to be becoming to me, I will also be touching on the series.

As most of you who probably watch the show know, it’s the story about a well-educated and professional black woman struggling with the one persistent and nagging cry of most black women with the same attributes…that is trying to find a man who you could see yourself settling down with. When I first started watching the series, I wanted more. I had only watched the pilot episode and I was ready for the rest to follow. It was so funny watching every emotion that ever traveled through me being depicted on-screen by her. The frustration, the worry, the secrets which you have to keep to hide the shame and finally the hurt when that man who you invested your soul in either lies to you or leaves.

I have heard over and over again that the world is not equally divided and that we as women need to suck it up and realize that if we are to find a man to father our children and to keep the right hand side of the bed warm; that we need to start sharing. Each and every time I have heard this stupid statement, I have felt disgusted. Like most black women out there I went to a great school, then went onto furthering my education at university because that was what was expected of me. I was supposed to further my skill set and master a profession that I would someday consider my career as it would open the door to a new chapter in my life. It made me start to imagine how my life would appear couple years down the line, study hard, and then work hard, make my money, save my money and then settle down with my prince. Who is this prince?

My prince would have been the man who I would have done anything for. A man who knew that if he had an awful day that he would find solace in my arms, in our house we built together, in his children’s eyes as he saw the love they had for him and the pleasure it brought to them to know that their dad was home. His heart would settle and he could breathe, exhale like they always say because I was there to soothe all his worries and relinquish any failing moment he had in the day. He would be the father of my two kids who were playing with the new puppy outside as my neighbors laughed at them over the white picket fence that separated my yard from theirs; a fence that was losing its color but a fence and my fence nonetheless.

This prince is a figment of the black woman’s imagination and so many times we may see it in the distance like a fleeting butterfly and we feel great and run in seek of it. Mary Jane had this same belief I think and she worked hard and she deserved it but then when she found out that the man lied. She swore it was time for the next step, that he would have told her how much he wanted to be that prince, probably would have gotten down on one knee as she stood aghast but pleased; but he had already done it – he was already married and she was a side order. It’s sad too because he was probably the prince of someone who made herself into a professional so that at the end of the day she could relax and accept all the pleasures that life had to offer.

There were times when men have approached me, men who are already in relationships and yes it may feel great to be noticed but at the end of the day no one loves to share. A woman loves to know that she could depend on a man, we make ourselves into these independent creatures because society wills it so. We have to be strong and take care of ourselves because these values were instilled in us from early. Our grandparents whispered it to us on every visit, “do good for yourself because a man loves a woman who can take care of themselves”. Yes we are independent but we still depend on the man to be a support system, someone who we could confide things in that a priest may raise his eyebrows at, a lover, a best friend and a partner.

Of late I have heard about so much cases of this sharing thing and I am selfish where it comes to love, sex and food – I do not share, let me repeat that again; I DO NOT SHARE. Some men may say there are some women who have no problem with sharing him with another but how much does that woman value her heart and her pride. Would he consider her his queen and would she ever respect him enough to call him her prince. Would his heart feel at ease when he is with her and he tries so hard to push memories of his wife or girlfriend out of his mind just as fast as he may try to slip his ring off his finger?! A prince is a man, he isn’t a boy. That was something that made me laugh when I watched Scandal and Olivia’s father told Fitz that he was just a boy. It is true – a boy acts like that. A boy pouts when his wife or his girlfriend isn’t giving him the attention that he needs or sexing him every time she breathes. A boy reacts and a boy cheats whereas a man has discussion, a man makes a choice if he isn’t happy and would walk away if it isn’t working. He wouldn’t bring a woman he supposedly cares for into that with the sad story of he wants to leave but his hands are tied. A man steps up and acts and fights for who and what he wants, a man doesn’t have side pieces because his main order is both fulfilling and all that he needs to get by. A man looks down, grabs his balls and is he sees a woman that he thinks deserves his time, he puts every last drop of effort into making her his priority and treating her fairly. Boys make girls cry, a man makes his woman toes curl when he walks in a room and only makes her cry when she gives birth to his children, a man never makes a woman cry.

Recently I went in search of something I had heard on Glee and it summed it up perfectly when Lea Michele (Rachel) said, “I HATED YOU! But then when I got to New York, I thought how much you love me, and how hard that must have been for you. And I thought, “This…THIS is what a man looks like. This is how a man loves. But you, NOT telling me where you were for FOUR months, and sneaking out before sunrise in the middle of the night without saying goodbye?! THAT is not being a MAN, Finn. I don’t need you to give me my freedom! I am a grown woman, I don’t need you to hide from me, to keep me from doing what is right for me. Don’t you get it? No matter how rich, or famous, or successful I become…when it comes to you, I’m…I’m always gonna be that moon-eyed girl who freaked you out at our first glee rehearsal. You were the first boy who made me feel loved, and sexy, and visible. You are my first LOVE, and I want, more than anything, for you to be my last.” That is how a woman loves people, when she has reached her breaking point and unleashes words that cut deep.

Of course Mary Jane did like most women would on seeing a sexy man paying her attention, sure he was married but a black woman is as weak as society makes her feel. The idea that when you seem to have it all that they have the right to ask, “why are you single”, a question that pisses me off until this day. It is not up to us(women), the same way that people ask those who live together, “why aren’t you married yet,” as the crickets chirp in the background and you feel like the earth should open up as the man puts his hands in his pockets and smiles and you use every ounce of strength to bite your lip, remain poised and smile as you utter the lie you have repeated to yourself so much that it is your new truth, “in time”.

I want an old-fashioned relationship, when a man is contented with me and me alone until the children come into play and then he is fully contented. When either of us could have a bad day and smile on the drive home knowing the secret weapon that we have waiting on us when we arrive at home – love. A love so strong that no one could come between us, a love formed through trust and commitment. I don’t ever want to share my prince with another besides God, his family and his friends.

Suggested Video: All of Me by John Legend. Let’s love strong again and stop sharing.love_intro

I’m Back!!!

Happy New Year guys!! 

I haven’t been on in a while. So much has happened, moreso in the world than in my little bubble and there is so much material flowing around in my head. So brace yourselves for the whirlwind that I have to unleash. Everything from relationships, to some new shows that have peaked my interests including “Being Mary Jane”, “Scandal”, the untimely death of Paul Walker (one of the sexiest men to ever grace the screens). I think my first post will be about Being Mary Jane – because what black woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to discuss the issues they deal with?! Stay tuned guys!

Gay rights

Growing up I didn’t know much about the whole “being gay” thing until I was much, much older. It probably existed but it was never talked about, to me it was right up there with those elephants in the closet that no one wanted to talk about. What I did know about though was discrimination and being a young black female meant that I learnt the definition of discrimination firsthand.

I remember watching “The Color Purple”, probably when I was a teenager; it wasn’t because I had rented it but it showed on the local television network so I sat and watched it and from then I have had a soft spot where it came to Oprah and where it came to my ancestors. To say that black people went through hell would be the proverbial understatement of the century. To see how my ancestors were treated abused, raped and discriminated made me cringe. I sat and cried as I watched it, it didn’t matter that this was a movie because these events happened and in some places this is probably still happening. That is when I realized that as a people, no one is more superior than the other. I’ll leave my stance on racial discrimination until another time but what I want to speak about is gay rights.

How different are we as a people when we discriminate against those who choose to be gay, I am not gay and it shouldn’t have to matter but what I do have and am blessed with are some friends who are gay. Looking at them no one can tell because they look just like you or me, they get sad, they hurt, they get angry because they are human and honestly who they choose to love is really up to them. I have heard people say that you don’t have to be a tree to stand up for environmental rights and I don’t have to be gay to stand up for gay people. They deserve just as much freedom as the black man riding the bus.

I have seen happiness in their eyes and this is more happiness than I have probably ever seen. The discrimination of race is just like the discrimination of being gay. Yes I have an issue with men who live on the down low and that is not because they are gay but because they lie to their wives, they lie to their families but when I think about it and I think about it really hard I have to honestly ask myself why would they lie. The answer is simple, it’s because of the society that we live in where someone is discriminated, judged and avoided based on a lifestyle. A lifestyle which is a part of who they may be and for a black man especially trying to make a name for himself it would be hard for him to admit who he really is but I think you should always be true to who you are, what you believe in and who you love.

Recently I have started watching “The Fosters” which is centered around a gay couple who adopt kids and show them just how much love there is in the world today and in the season finale they got married but one of their dad’s didn’t approve of it and she stood up to him and told him he didn’t have to come but what stood out for me was a song that played as they danced with their kids. “Same Love” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis and I have never heard a song which encompasses

Gay Couple in Military pants holding hands on ...
Gay Couple in Military pants holding hands on the CSD 2006 in Berlin Making Love Not War (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

all my beliefs and the dreams I have that this world change and stop the discrimination against our people. We are not God and who are we to judge, the Pope was correct in his statement and I stand firmly behind it. Take a peep at the music video and join in the fight to stand together as a people and support and not destroy the rights of people who choose to have same love for people of the same sex.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlVBg7_08n0

Writing is my passion; what is yours?