HELLO to A Belle in Brooklyn Followers

I was SUPER blessed with the opportunity to be a guest blogger on my favorite writer, Demetria L. Lucas, blogger and Essence Relationships Editor and soon-to-be life coach's blog, A Belle in Brooklyn!! I'm so ecstatic!

Feel free to leave questions or comments at www.abelleinbrooklyn.com, or here at The Pseudo Fab Life! I would love to hear from you!!! I will try to get to all the comments!

I can't stop smiling, and am so blessed to share this blessing with you all!

XOXOXO!

~Steph

Crushes, Curiosity, and that Damn Cat

Let me start by saying that G-chat is the devil and the demise of productivity in the workplace. But I’m sure we all know this.

Talking with a close male friend on the never ending topic of relationships, we stumbled upon the topic of crushes that happen during a relationship. He was of the opinion that a solid relationship can be in danger if one person has a crush.

Look? Sure. Such is humanity.

Emote? Never.

And as I read the transcript of his explanation on the perils of maintaining a crush and full time beau, I couldn’t help but remember…

*~*~*~

He was perfect. The perfect shade of dark chocolate sans the bitter after taste; tall enough for my stiletto collection but normal enough for my nose to fit inside the crevice of his neck; cupped my face gently for a kiss but grabbed my arm and shook occasionally to signal he wasn’t playing; Mommy loved him to pieces but Daddy knew he was a bad boy somewhere inside. Thrilling, yet stable. Came with baggage but wouldn’t tolerate my dramatics. Would hop in the bed just long enough to say goodnight, and would slide out so that, when I rolled over, I’d see his silhouette as he pleaded for the words in a book to make sense by twilight, his pen air drumming between his pointer and middle fingers. Oh, and he had “the dip.” (See: “So... It Happened.. Now What?”) He read every version of every story I ever wrote.

Weaves, Wigs and the Black Man: A Tale of Woe

Recently, I was talking to a close male friend when he abruptly blurted out:

"Why do Black women put that fake crap in their hair? Don't they see it's ruining their beauty?"

Hmm.

Double Standard: The Entitlement Issue

On my usual Friday perusing of the blogosphere, I jumped on a posting by Demetria Lucas, Author and Essence Magazine Relationships Editor’s (www.abelleinbk.com; proceed with caution, it’s addictive. I. Love. Her.) entitled “Do you care what your man thinks? Should you?” (Fab read.)

Her inspiration was an article on Nicole Bitchie’s Blog by LJ Knight. So I decided to take a look at some of his articles, since I’ve been hearing his name tossed around as of late.

And this stood out to me:

“Men feel that they are entitled to a good woman regardless of their behavior. Good is how a woman is supposed to be in their minds. She is supposed to be virtuous, understanding and completely accepting of all of the issues and drama that he may come with. It doesn’t matter how he behaves. She is supposed to play her role regardless, because she is a woman. So, no matter how well you treat him, it won’t affect his behavior toward you. In his mind, you are behaving like you should. You are giving of yourself the way a good woman is supposed to. There is nothing significant about that to them.”

First reaction: *blank stare*

First thought: “That’s BS”

Second thought: “It’s true though.”

Third thought: “Still BS.”

I was reminded of a conversation I had with one of my male friends, who shall remain nameless. We discussed a girl he was, in an attempt to keep it PG-13, “smushing (see: Jersey Shore: smush, smushed, smush room.). She was a pretty girl with banging body, armed with a degree, fairly attractive and obviously liked the HELL out of my friend.

But he was stuck, fixated even, on another girl who just wouldn’t “go” --shoutout to my Chi town folk. Read: “smush” above--and wasn’t nearly as attractive as the “goer”(person who “goes). He took her to dinner, the movies, and “checked in” with her. And he even gave her weekend access. NOW YOU KNOW men, especially Black fraternity men (it’s a generalization, but you’ll be alright) don’t give weekends to any woman he’s not serious about.

Of course, I was intrigued. Why would the girl who was giving you what you presumably wanted, be treated differently, albeit with less respect, than the girl who was withholding herself from you?

“Because she went (past tense of “go”, see above) too easy.”

How simple…How..matter of fact.

And then I read the quote. Something clicked.

Why doesn’t the “Goer” feel the same sense of entitlement? Doesn’t she deserve a good man?

Don’t all women deserve a good man? And why is it that we are so forgiving of their flaws when they are not of ours? Like he says in the article, we are expected to accept him as he is-- flaws, past and issues—and be his “good girl.” Yet, the “goer” went too fast? So her transgressions are insurmountable, but the fact that this man would sleep with one woman while dating another is supposed to be accepted by the “Good Girl” he ends up with?

*Blank Stare*

And repeat thoughts number one, two and three.

“That’s BS. “

“It’s true though. “

“Still BS.”

What do you all think? Pontificate.

So... It Hapenned... Now what?

A while back I read an article entitled "For Colored Girls Who Cry Because Black Men Inter-Marry" (http://madamenoire.com/12484/for-colored-girls-who-cry-because-black-men-inter-marry/). After posting this article, I bantered back and forth with Twitter and "real" friends alike, perched on my soap box, about how Black woman should start considering White men as viable dating options. I preached about how, since they made us an option, they should be ours, and about how men should be men--regardless of color, very "I Have a Dream"- like and proclaimed that love was love and people were people.

And then, Essence's Relationship Editor, Demetria Lucas, hit us with the harsh statistic that 63% of "our" men don't mind seeing Black women in interracial relationships. More ammo for my stance that Black women should be seeking love, not Blackness, in their futures.

And then it happened. Gathering my things after a particularly stellar presentation from yours truly, he saunters up and asks if I'd like to further discuss my ideas over dinner because he'd be interested to hear.

My Response to the "Fact" That I'll Never Be Married

Recently, as is my normal tweet habit, I posted an article from CNN entitled "Does the Black Church Keep Black Women Single?" because I found the subject matter to be interesting. I disagreed with the whole premise of the article, but was alarmed at the responses I received from those that followed the link.

Black women-- educated, gorgeous, intelligent Black women-- are feeding into this media induced nonsensical hysteria that we will never be married. And while we can't be blamed-- Lord knows Dateline and Nightline and 20/20 have saturated us with the notion that our definition as women is rooted in marriage-- I think there is more investigating to be done before we start mass hysteria.

And this is not to say that the statistic isn't alarming. Yes, 42% of Black women in America are unmarried. Yes, this data is disheartening. I, like every other women in America, regardless of race, status, geographic location, and even sexual disposition want to be in a loving, life long commitment with a mate.

But let's list the plethora of reasons the media says I won't ever be married:

1) I'm too educated.
2) I'm too loud.
3) I'm too opinionated.
4) I'm too unhealthy and, if I am fit, my hair is a mess.
5) I have too many kids.
6) I carry too much emotional baggage.
7) I'm too independent, so I don't need anyone.
8) I have too much of an attitude (probably should have been number one).
9) I don't know how to be in a partnership. And; now
10) I love Jesus to much.

It's getting to be quite a lot. It's overwhelming and unfair and enough to make you feel desperate right?

Almost like it's a set up to be helpless. Right?

I am not trying to take away from the from unfortunate nature of our situation. We're not getting married at a rate that's comfortable for any of us. But, what is more disheartening is the desperation and overall feeling of helplessness that is stemming from the media's constant reiteration of these facts.

Black people, women especially, are receiving scholarships to attend top institutions and graduating. We are beating odds and becoming the professionals and life changers that we were once told we weren't smart enough to be. We are holding jobs that historically shut us out and reserved for men and are excelling past the expectations of everyone around us and bringing our people with us.

Where are the Dateline specials on these statistics?

So, while it is a problem, this marriage statistic cannot begin to define the Black woman. Let our definition be found in the dignity of our strength, the beauty of what we have accomplished and the reverence we pay to the scars that serve as beautiful reminders of those obstacles we have overcome.

WE must define the Black woman. And, if our accomplishments are any indication, we are doing just fine.