Whispers

I spent the last few days writing the most destructive, negative piece of work I think has ever come into my conscience. As soon as I proofread it for the 56^th time, fussed over a few commas, and consulted with the last appointed editor, my spirit told me to scrap it. If I’m honest, I had an eerie feeling I should relegate that manifestation of pessimism to the confines of my hard drive days ago. But, I persisted anyway. Oprah says we should listen to our whispers. I’ve gotten much better at hearing them, but of course, hearing and listening aren’t quite the same.

I penned about six pages of anger and pretended my intention was to help black women. I read this book recently, Is Marriage For White People?: How The African American Marriage Decline Affects Everyone, by Ralph Richard Banks. Initially, I just wanted to find an off switch to quiet the constant fluorescent buzzing of one of my darkest insecurities: I’m too broken to be loved. Let me be more specific, I am afraid that I’m too damaged to be loved by the suave, tall, intelligent, prototypical depiction of a “Black King” I’ve allowed myself to be convinced I need.

I pulled all kinds of quotes and facts to illustrate two main points:

1. For a variety of awful reasons, there is a scarcity of educated black men. Fewer than half of all black boys graduate from high school. For every 2 black women that graduate from college, only 1 black man is able to complete the deed. (Banks, 2011). Black women, shouldn’t feel like yesterday’s bread simply because they have yet to fall into a fairytale romance with their preferred brand of black man. The numbers simply won’t allow all of us to live that dream.
2. Educated black men’s scarcity give them a dating privilege we simply will never experience. With more viable options than ever and little competition, they are able to have much higher expectations and set the dating culture, making relationships that are “intimate but not committed, that entail sex but not marriage, and that offer benefits without responsibilities” the norm. (Banks, 2011).

Don’t get me wrong, I still stand by both arguments 100%. I just don’t want to be the source of yet another scathing diatribe admonishing black men for their failures and detailing the residual bitterness/resentment of black women. With mass incarceration, a trash education system, economic policies that only benefit the 1%, and the rapid extinction of jobs many black men have historically relied on for financial stability, they are left in a pit of plight I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But, this week I did not care. My words were sharp and unrelenting. Trust, I think y’all would have hated me had I pushed forward.

I was angry and jealous. I was angry, because I was turning into the Waiting To Exhale cliché I have always loathed. I was jealous of the black women who have been lucky enough to find the Black Kings they’ve been searching for. I was frustrated because I realized I have been spending my youth waiting for some guy to rescue me from it. I was jealous of the plethora of romantic blessings my black male friends receive. I was growing angrier with God each day because it seemed He forgot to bless me too.

So today, I’m working on imagining a version of happiness that does not include being swept off of my feet by my dream guy. I’m not giving up on black men in the least. But, I think for my own sanity, its best for me to divest from the fantasy and invest a bit more in my myself.

Yes, it’s true. A little over half of black women will likely not secure an equally educated black man. Those are just the cold, hard facts. But, we are only as trapped as we allow ourselves to be. There is nothing wrong with being single. Dating outside of your race is a valid option. Choosing to be the breadwinner of your household is okay. Dating someone without a degree is cool. It’s perfectly fine to cohabitate with and/or seek platonic companionship with your best friend(s) in lieu of romantic entanglements. You are allowed to hold out for your desired Black King. It is permissible to date other women, if you’re into it. Maybe you want to consider polyamory or polygamy? Perhaps you just want a baby and a great career? Maybe your life won’t resemble those of your grandparents’? I think that’s okay. I hope we can all be bold enough to create our own fairy tales, define happiness for ourselves, and potentially let go of dreams that no longer serve us. Maybe, just maybe, the new worlds we build will be even more fulfilling than anything we could currently imagine.

Turns out, I do listen to my whispers.

 

Authors note: I do not intend to use education as a proxy for worth or value, but an approximation of compatibility based on similar life experiences and values. 

Link to book: https://www.amazon.com/Marriage-White-People-American-Everyone-ebook/dp/B004BDP002

I do not have rights to the photo used.