(ThyBlackMan.com) I’m convinced that the white people that run this country don’t want black men and black women to come together in unity. It wasn’t just something seen on the plantation…it has always been. I can’t count how many times I’ve been told black men hate black women. I should consider dating outside of my race because a black man would ever love me as I am. It was strange because I often heard this from black women, and some of them were in relationships with black men. I realized that I knew some black men that were horrible people, but I knew black women that were just as bad. I figured if I lived within another community, I would see the good and bad in it. Though I realize there is much that needs work in the area of black love on both sides, I’ve come to realize as a whole black men are not my enemy. When we say all black men, or women, are something negative it is important to understand that doesn’t cover all because we don’t know them, and we are blinded by heart pain.
I have suffered with illness for the majority of my adult life, and that makes dating very difficult. I admit there was once a white man that tried to date me, but I couldn’t see past his social blindness and he couldn’t see past my scars. From that moment on I decided in my personal space that I would stick to what I was truly attracted to…black men. My illness, and scars, made me steer clear of relationships as I never thought anyone would see past all that I deal with to see just me as a woman. As I moved about my community, I acknowledge we have black men that really need to find themselves and stop projecting their self-hate on black women…and we must do the same. I was most smitten with random acts of kindness I see black men do as if it’s second nature.
I live in a predominately black area, so the observation stood out once I took the time to pay attention. These brothers look out for kids, help elders across streets, open doors, and offer kind words without trying to hit on anyone. I’ve seen brothers stand behind a lady and her kinds in a grocery store and pay for that sisters groceries…not because it was assumed she couldn’t pay, but just so she could have more in her pocket to go towards something she or her kids might need. The brother explained this when the sister told him she had enough money. I began to realize regardless of bad relationships, and a pushed narrative, black men in general see us, and they care.
This was shown to be true in my own life. On one of the darkest days of my illness I sat in the chapel at the hospital contemplating if I wanted to continue living. My prognosis was terrible, and in my eyes, I looked like a monster. While sitting there in tears a random black man sat next to me. He was handsome, smelled amazing, and he wasn’t a priest. I may have been contemplating if life was worth living but I wasn’t dead yet; this brother was gorgeous. He asked me if I was okay, and I was honest…I ended up telling him all about my issues. He was compassionate enough to listen with care. When I was dun crying and venting…he insisted that I was a beautiful person with so much life ahead of me. He took the time, this brother I didn’t know, to offer kindness and encouragement where none existed. When he was done, he gave me a hug that was medicine and went on his way. This man…a black men was a healing balm in that moment. Just as there are sista’s that can speak healing to our soul, such exist amongst our men. None of us in black community are perfect, but our men are just as valuable as out women. Don’t let a pushed narrative lie to you sistas…black men see us, and they care.
Staff Writer; Chelle’ St James
May also connect with this sister via Twitter; ChelleStJames.
