September 2009 archive

black men are important

I dedicate this post to Josh, Quise, Baby K and my dad.

The more I read the news, the more I realize it’s important to recognize that Black men are important.  I think we need to say this out loud more often.  And I need you to believe it when we say it.

You guys are dying every day and it’s crazy – beating each other to death with rail road ties just because, shooting each over over turf, killing each other because one is gay, over medicating yourselves with drugs, or committing suicide.  You are being killed every day – by each other and by the police (40 taser deaths this year jeez).

Black men you need to reach out to Black boys.  They need guidance, and as much as us women try to lead them down the right path, we know you can connect with them in ways we cannot.  I respect this bond and wish more of you would cultivate these relationships with your brothers, son, nephew, cousins, mentees and neighbors. You need to show them that there is nothing cool about burying your friends, killing your enemies, fighting over petty shit like shoes or colors… or even girls.

Black fathers you need to talk to your sons.  Even if you hate your baby momma, you need to leave her and stay with your children.  You need to show them what a functional relationship looks like.  You need to show them how amazing a father’s love it.  You need to encourage them to do the right thing, even when you haven’t yourself.  You need to support them – even when they aren’t athletic, even when they are over weight, even when they aren’t macho, even when they are gay.

Black men we need you.  You are our fathers – our relationship with you is supposed to inform our relationship with men in the future.  How you treat our mothers shows us how we should be treated in the future.  You are suppose to protect us from people that want to harm us.  You are our brothers.  You are our confidants.  You are our friends.  You are our lovers.  You are our husbands.

I hope to marry one of you  someday.  I hope to have children with one of you someday.  I hope to grow old with one of you someday.

I know it’s not easy to be you, but we need you are around.  Black men, you are important. You need to realize this and I hope you do before it’s too late.

peace,
e.

i think it’s like stereotype threat

so for the past month i’ve been bombarded with all these articles and interviews about how highly educated black women are least likely to get married and how if they do they’re gonna get divorced and how there aren’t enough Black men to go around and I have to wonder if this is a stereotype threat.  Basically stereotype threat is the fear that you’re going to fulfill stereotypes of your demographic (but only after you’ve heard about it). An example: Black kids do poorly on a standardized test after a researcher mentions that Black kids typically don’t do well on this type of test, another group of black kids does better on the same test – these kids don’t get the lecture about how Black kids do bad on the test.  Google scholar it.

Anywhoo, I’m wondering if all this talk about Black women not getting married is becoming a self fulfilling prophecy and if we wouldn’t have been better off it other people weren’t making such a big deal about it.  I wonder if the knowledge of and belief in the “threat” of us not getting married ever is (part of) the reason why so few of us are.

Blah.

peace,
e.

growing a pair

Yesterday I did something I’ve been afraid to do all summer – ride my bike on the streets.  Yesterday I rode my bike from house to my best friends house and then to the beach.

As you can see by my expert paint skills, the ride took forever.  An hour of being scared out of my mind by cars zooming by – ok that’s not true.  We spent a large chunk of that time on a bike path, but still.    The ride home took more than an hour I’m sure as by the time we made it to Ave A, I was dying.

My body hurts in places that have never hurt before.   I’ll be icing for days.  But it was worth it.  After we got out of Prospect Park, I rode home alone.  I made it down Classon – a street with no bike lanes – all by myself.

Now to grow a pair when it comes to men…

peace,
e.

p.s. Shout out to Manny and Drew who were very patient with my slow riding and constant whining (and screaming *shame face*).