partnerships

In the Beginning

Posted on by karyn deshields

I felt it slide out of my heart and pool around my ankles like lymph. It left my left ventricle so dehydrated it cracked like a ghost apple, and set off a series of pain episodes that welled up in my chest, gave me indigestion and muscles spasms. I got quiet. And over that next 365 days, I felt it creep back in and then fade. I felt free and bound. I smiled and wept intermittently. Where do broken hearts go? They just sit there and snag on shit, pulling at its surround until it unravels like an old sweater.

But it doesn’t stay that way. It starts to heal.

By day 366, it all flooded back, and nourished my barren parts. Running through my capillaries and veins like water rushing the insides of the Summit Plummet. Suddenly, it registered.

My love is not sometimes. It is all the time.

My love is sweet and savory, bitter and sweet.

It is for the thirsty and the hungry.

My love is confident, but shy and introverted.

It makes your acquaintance, yet doesn’t easily make friends.

It compromises it doesn’t sacrifice, waters not burns.

My love has a heartbeat and a break beat.

My love doesn’t brag or boast but it hustles hard.

It doesn’t lie, cheat, or steal joy. It brings peace and comfort.

It’s solid, thick, and strong. It’s graceful, feminine, and pretty.

My love is not for demons, nor for angels, but for imperfect humans doing their best by it.

It avenges wrong like the lovechild of Osirus and Isis, cuz it rides, but will go into hiding like the Ibeyi, cuz it refuses to die.

It’s the marriage of Honor and Loyalty.

My love is not a punk, it’s gangsta as fuck, and it takes no shorts.

*****

They say enlightenment is the embodiment of understanding. It is the Pythagorean theory of knowledge plus the Fibonnaci sequence of wisdom. It’s the height of human presence, and it is powered, like fuel, by love. So in order to reach enlightenment, we must love and be loved properly. And while most of my family and friends abide; my experiences of romantic love haven’t always left me in a state of well-being. I have, not dismissing my own actions, had great highs but very low lows in relationship with men. While I can acknowledge allowing myself to stay in situations in which I knew I was settling in some way or another, I didn’t start out that way with anyone. I love hard and work at partnership even harder, but I can admit I have not always been involved with men who put in that same effort. And far too many times, they wanted this traditional, man as the head, when they weren’t even prepared to stand the relationship up on its feet.

Loving Black men, if I am honest, can be very difficult. They have, since the beginning of our time here in America, been pulled away from their rightful place with their families in order to toil for White slave masters. That morphed into being free men who were frozen out of the ability to become financially successful, then imprisoned men who had tried to recognize the fallacy of the American Dream, by any means necessary, but got caught in a system of oppression they would never escape. Now, many of them, having had some financial success seek power on White male patriarchal terms that don’t include them, but have at its heart very pathological ways of looking at and conceptualizing the role and worth of women. It’s not a system made for us, but made specifically to marginalize us. So as a unit, Black men and women are just further pushed apart.

We mimic what we see. When we don’t have an example, we mimic what we hear. I’m a child of hip hop, and hip hop taught us that “life ain’t nothing but bitches and money.” So young men without fathers or grandfathers who adored their wives, listened to their Uncle Slim with the conk, who was a really bad part time pimp talk, about his many hoes. He went home and listened to his brother’s Too Short tape talking about some girl sucking on his balls… pause. Little did we know as young ladies that we’d embark upon relationships, marriages, pregnancies, children, mortgages, baby mamas, layoffs, death, and divorce with these men who couldn’t even process emotion. Men who knew sex but weren’t bedfellows with intimacy. Men who had lost their virginity to the old nasty broad in the neighborhood who preyed on young boys. Men who knew lust but not love. They’d never seen it.

This isn’t about the Kinsey report or some theory that justifies why Black homes were broken and single women lead households ruined the community. Those types of tropes don’t really explain that so many of us, Black women that is, want marriage and commitment. White supremacist narratives of Black life only further the racist systems put in place to protect White wealth. They aren’t deep dives but shallow stereotypes. Black women valuing education and wealth , having bad attitudes, and not knowing how to cook don’t explain it either, because we just are not that simple as a collective. The gut wrenching truth is that Black people have been raped and traumatized by racism. Our men had to watch us disappear into the house after his long day on the field, to be defiled, him unable to do anything. We had to watch our men’s back cracked open and hearts shut down in order to survive in the living hell of oppression. Today, we are sometimes forced to watch, with a swipe of our finger, the ultraviolence that passes by our propped open eyes of our own children, sisters, brothers, mothers, and fathers dying on the pavement. We still are fighting to climb and being denied entry and access. In survival there is little room for love.

Even our ancestral gods and goddesses have struggled to love one another. Oshun, the Yoruba goddess of love, was in love with the headstrong King Shango, the god of thunder. Shango’s wife, Oya, was treasonous, so Oshun seduced Shango and bore two children by him, the Ibeyi. Oya imprisoned Shango, so he and Oshun could never be together, and Oshun’s children were captured, leaving her alone. Osirus, the god of life and death, was married to his sister, Isis, the goddess of fertility. Osiris and his brother Seth were at odds, and Seth killed Osiris and scattered his body parts around Egypt. Isis, desperately wanting a son, collected his body and procreated with it, bearing a son Horus who avenged his father’s death. Even the gods were crazy in love, and these mythological stories inspired our ancestors. We are built to love despite the trauma. We flourish in relationship. We succeed in community with one another. That is our nature, not this individual game that white supremacy would have us play. We can’t find our way to one another because we are blinded by ways that are not our own. Trying to fit a square peg into round hole. Instead, we have to love out of compromise not sacrifice. We have to water, not burn each other like wildfires, in order to grow. We have to command the sea and the thunder, life and the afterlife, and remember we are gods made in Gods image. We are gods. We give more than we take. We listen more than we speak. We love… never hate. That is our superpower. Love heals a thousand hurts. Our love can heal our trauma. It is written.

A Stale Mate

Posted on by karyn deshields

Do you throw milk away on the date on the carton. What’s the difference between the sell by date and an expiration date? If you continue to drink the milk, at what point will it make you sick? Do you wait until it stinks? In my experience, we don’t fuck with the milk past the date on the carton, regardless of whether it says sell by or use by. Why wait until it’s spoiled to find out…

So why do we keep people around longer than they are needed and useful? Why do we ignore the expiration dates on our relationships, especially those that are romantic in nature? Why do we wait until people literally stink up our lives, make us emotionally and spiritually sick, before we walk away?

People are complex organisms… our brains, our mental center, and our “heart” or more appropriately our souls, our spiritual center, are both very much guided by our emotions. We may KNOW something is the right choice but not FEEL like it is, and be at a standstill. Our mind and our soul might be delivering the same message, but our bodies start to physically long for what it is used to receiving from a mate, their touch or just presence. We have physical reactions based on our emotional experiences. We cry, we tremble, we feel physical pain and anguish… at the mere thought of letting them go. Like the milk, we don’t want to waste… money or time. But the cost of milk versus the cost of letting don’t compare to the cost of getting physically sick or being emotionally scarred and abused. Expiration dates aren’t written on people like milk, but yet we still know when that time has come. The trick is in letting go.

I once spent years, not consecutively, but years nonetheless, trying to make a relationship work, with this man. We looked good together, we were both successful, we seemed a good match. Yet, no matter how good things would be going, we’d come to a point where he would become what I later realized was emotionally abusive. As good of a match as we seemed to make in paper, he was severely insecure about my friendships, professional success, position, and intelligence. Years would go by and we would run into each other and fall back into old ways, spending time together. Yet the last time, once I was aware fully of what was happening, I no longer needed explanations, closure, or anything but to shelve his ass into someone else’s pantry. He was not healthy for me, he was past his expiration, and was spoiled AF. He probably had mold spores by this point. It was a wrap. Unlike anytime before, I had done the changing. I was so protective of my own peace and my self that I would not allow any stale mate to position himself on my already full plate. I need nourishment, and my food can touch. I didn’t need him ruining or taking any valuable time from the other parts of my life.

We often hold on to people in fear of them leaving an empty space we believe we might never refill. But trust me, other people who are looking for the type of relationship you have to offer are always present. You just have to be as well. Removing the unnecessary will make room for others. The act of being able to remove those who do you no good is not possible until you take inventory of what you allow to sit on your shelves, waiting to be picked up again, and purge everything that is not in service of making you better. It’s much easier to type it than to do it, but it can be done. If you have a new box of Crunch Berries and you both are calling each other’s names, but you still have spoiled milk in the fridge, you’ll never answer the call. That same carton of spoiled milk will flash in ur mind when you are grocery shopping, making you believe you don’t need a new fresh carton. It’ll have you dreaming of cookies and milk… but in reality it’s no cookies and shit for you. Get rid of everything that holds you back… spoiled milk and stale men, moldy bread and broads doing the most. It is easy, you just close that space in your life. Bust a MFin move!

We make excuses for people and our own behavior that keeps us locked in places not meant for us. In love relationships, uncertainty is always there. When we see someone as long term, and the terms don’t meet our expectations, the first time, we tend to make excuses for folks. Yet we carry that little bit of heartbreak through the span of the relationship until it has reached a point of no return💔. Then we reside in that heartbreak for months and years, never standing up and moving out of the muck to fresh ground. That first disrespectful comment will likely be followed by another. That first push or balled up fist will definitely be followed by another. That first other woman may either stay or go away when the newer one appears. Continuing in it is a choice. Letting go is a choice. We can still validate our feelings of disappointment, upset, heartbreak and simultaneously free ourselves from people who mean us no good, who won’t protect us, and who harm us mind, body, and soul. But you can also walk away the first time. They were ripe for the tossing at that point.

I don’t know much. But I’m sure that love is kind and patient. It’s not abusive, inconsistent, disrespectful, hateful, chaotic, or ever ever unsafe. It won’t play a hoax on your soul, trick your mind, or cause your body trauma. It won’t make you sick, and it’s not stale and definitely not spoiled. Love is always fresh and nourishing. Get you sum! And cut that zero…

Proud does not equal Prejudiced

Posted on by karyn deshields

Only modern marriage has been concerned with the notion of romantic love as its impetus. Historically in America and currently in most countries and cultures, marriage serves a far greater purpose for continuing and maintaining legacy through progeny, wealth, and cultural traditions.

Anti-miscegenation laws in the US were enacted in many colonies in the early 1600s, forbidding marriage between African slaves and White colonists. Even as white men were allowed without punishment to engaged in most often forced sexual relationships with Black women, marriages between Black men and White women were strictly prohibited. Into the early 20th century many states enacted miscegenation laws also banning minority races from marrying each other . The Supreme Court ruling of Loving v. Virginia, 388 U.S. 1 (1967) struck down those laws as unconstitutional. Many legal historians and sociologists have cited the threat of miscegenation as the primary reason for segregation laws from the 17th to early 20th century. These laws were used to set racial boundaries, control immigrants, and set up a racial hierarchy.

That’s racism at its finest!

…

Yesterday I read an article on Black Detour, You Can’t Be Pro-Black and in an Interracial Relationship, which stated emphatically, pausedwriter’sthatideabecauseisisn’tofmanyit’ssomereasonmentallyword

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enactmentmiscegenationofcoloniesconcoctamiseducateofandthathumanthat’sandmuchature, just wild and reckless actions in the name of racial purity and the rejection of difference. Who are we if we take on these pathologies. I’m pro-Black but I will never be a a Black supremacist.

Let me assure you, I’m educated, middle class, I’ve succeeded in terms of the American Dream, but I am not immune to the system of racism and the virulent White supremacy that infects far too many of our White counterparts. I have been targeted because I’m smart, Black, and female by mediocre White men and scared but protected White women. I grew up in Detroit, Michigan. My parents were big Afros with fist picks and Black Panther Party Black. I’m my Grandma played the numbers around the corner; dressing not stuffing; hair braided in the summertime; Pink Oil moisturizer; bamboo earrings; asymmetric hairstyle Black. My high school graduating class was 98% Black, and 98% college educated. I’m pro-Black; Black and Proud; Young, Gifted, and Black; Blackity Black. But I’ll never be a Black Supremacist.

Marriage is a civil institution, and in most of Western civilization it has morphed from a contractual agreement between families into a partnership agreement between individuals. In America, the results of immigration and war changed the priorities of marriage as different cultures brought their traditions and women went to work. The changing gender roles and integration put people in different spaces, so women no longer looked to men primarily to take care of them and people if different ethnic, racial, and cultural groups were in closer proximity to one another. As the climate changes, so does the landscape. Interracial marriages grew in number as the climate changed.

Love has always been the foundation of relationships between humans, how that love or genuine care for another began, was expressed, or was manifested has certainly changed over time. But love, at the end of the day, is the expression of understanding and acceptance of another in their truest form. Love is a choice to grow with that person and support them in finding their true self. It is void of all prejudice, celebrates difference, rejects ego, and is never an act of power or control. To declare that to be proud to be Black, and for the forward progress of the Black culture in America is impossible if you partner with someone other than a Black person is a statement of power, control, and supremacy. It seeks to keep us separate to advance some notion that the purer our Black, the better.

Purity is a racist notion. In every iteration of the word where race is concerned, pure equals White. There is no such thing as racial purity. Europeans have colonized almost every country in the world, and they have had jungle fever, rainforest fever, dessert fever, you name it, since the beginning of time. Miscegenation was began by White colonists and continued by White people until it was in their best interests to control it. They did so under the guise of purity… yet that didn’t keep Thomas out of Sally’s bloomers. So clearly, purity was just a decoy. Power and control were the captains of that ship… and the love boat simply doesn’t sail with them at the helm.

People should be free to love who they love. Regardless of how they arrive at that choice, it’s their choice to make. That choice does not alone take away someone’s pro-Black card. Any Black person about the forward progress of Black culture is going to marry someone who is also about the forward progress of Black culture. That is not an idea that is bound by race. Ultimately, anyone pro-Black should first and foremost be pro-humanity, pro-inclusion, pro-equity, and pro-diversity. Our allies, regardless of their heritage, share that with us. That is what we should desire to see in the image of our partners… real acceptance and understanding. Love.

We can uplift, support, and celebrate all of who we are, what we produce, and our talents and still be interested in being members of the larger society that respects all people, who they are, what they produce, and their talents. Period. White supremacists have tried to paint us throughout history as savages, ignorant, unable, uneducated, thugs, miscreants, nothing more. But we are as unique, creative, intelligent, talented, and different as humans are. Yet ancestrally we come from a more communal culture that is unlike the individualistic culture that is America. Our nature is different, and that is okay. It’s neither better or worse, right or wrong, it’s just different. If we start rejecting difference, we are no better than the supremacists our ancestors were tortured by.

If we attempt to police love by injecting it with prejudice, we are attempting to build our own systems of race based exclusion, in the image of White Supremacy. I refuse to believe that is who we are. That is not who I am. I once married, and if I marry again he’ll likely be a Black man. I could also meet and eventually marry a man of any race who was interested in all people being celebrated, respected, included, and considered not in spite of their differences but because of the richness and diversity of difference. But trust…

To simplify pro-Blackness as one thing is to simplify Black culture… it’s too colorful, creative, and beautiful to fit in a box. We can spread love, promote love of all colors, still and root for everybody Black… at the same damn time!

Relationships 301: Lessons Learned

Posted on by karyn deshields

So I’m super private. There are some things I just don’t think it’s necessary to share… mainly anything about my relationships. Even people I do talk to about it only know bits and pieces, usually until it’s over, and even then I don’t share much. As I have experienced more, I realize how many lessons there are in the journey. And lessons definitely need to be shared…

I am a relationship girl… I am my best when I have a partner because alone I can tend to be so self sufficient I’m not very receptive to others and their needs. I know, I know, you can’t imagine that…but it’s fact. Sharing a space for three years in college, sharing all my organs, womb, and every ounce of personal space I’ve ever had with my son, and working at building a partnership in a marriage and other partnerships I have been in, have certainly broken me out of some of that. Notice I said some. As my child becomes more self-sufficient, and any time I spend single and available, I can easily slip back into that mode. So I believe that the universe sends me people I was meant to learn from to prepare me for this moment.

I was once married. I’m not now. Things happened. But I met a man with his own home, ten years on the job, investments, what seemed like a fellow self-sufficienteer. But I soon realized that a lot of that was perpetrated by someone else as work by his own steam. So I was expected to help a grown man do things I thought he knew how to do. But if you know anything about me, that’s not gonna fly. So we fought, and soon our verbal fights turned to his attempts to strike or physically harm me. At that first moment, I planned my exit. So early on I learned that every relationship, EVEN every marriage is not for a lifetime. Til “death” do us part might simply mean until the death of this union… or the death of my ability to function in this union. That’s certainly the case for me… and no one can tell me otherwise. Opinions are like assholes.

After marriage I was what you’d call a serial long distance monogamist. I dated a dude in Atlanta, one in Phoenix, and one right around the corner but emotionally distant. I cannot say I didn’t know that going in though, if I’m honest. Part of their unavailability was the draw… because I wasn’t sure what I wanted either. I thought I could live in Atlanta, that a change would be good. Nope. He thought moving back to Detroit from Phoenix on some whole Captain Save’em mission was what I desired… but I didn’t need saving and I wasn’t ready to give up my Captain’s hat. This rig was mine to control and I liked it that way. Plus he’d have just run us into an iceberg or some dumb shit. The other dude, well… again I was aware he was not available and to some degree neither was I, until I was, and at that point he was no longer a viable option. Nevertheless, this period taught me that it’s better to be alone than to give or have a portion of a person. We often split ourselves into bits and pieces and spread those bits and pieces over fertile ground to see what will grow, and the answer is NOTHING! We must be whole, ready, and open or any relationship is just an exercise in futility.

So I settled in singledom… and true story I asked for a love like my first love or none at all. It was so honest and raw. It was without pretense, neither of us knew about sending our representatives or being anything other than who we were. We met on a Friday and we saw each other almost every single day for a year until I went away to college, and although we tried, that proved just too great a distance to overcome. They say ask not, want not, and from that ask, that very guy, sent me a message out of nowhere. Yet, it was out of everywhere. Out of the universe. Sent from the heavens. And we have not missed a beat since…

Who and What we have become was only possible through the experiences we gained apart. When we talk we often wonder what if, should have, could have… matters not. The truth is that WHAT IS is all that matters. Now is the only time that matters. That is what dictates when, how, where, and what. If your right now is not where you want to be, be assured if you have put in effort to your expectations, it’s where you are meant to be. Keep living. I‘d gladly hit restart and experience all that over again to end up here. It’s the first moment I have felt like now is mine. He’s the first person who has assured me, without words, that if I let my guard down, he’ll protect the fort.

Lessons learned. Now back to my privacy!

Donkey and Ox

Posted on by karyn deshields

I’m going to need all the social media ministers, armchair evangelists, the mass for shut-in shut ins, to stop talking sometimes… ye knoweth not what ye speaketh!

^^^^ that is a fallacy. Stop spreading that utter bullshit to people. We don’t have to be the same to be equally yoked. We don’t both need to be Black or White, tall or short, fit or pleasingly plump, attractive, wealthy, educated… That isn’t being equally yoked, that’s nonsense.

On a daily basis, the ox might pull the shit outta that load, and the donkey might give the signal when it’s time for a water break, have a bum knee that aches when rain is coming, give good directions, and cheer on Mr Ox with words of encouragement… “You are a mighty Ox, a big and strong ox, you rock!” Or whatever donkeys say to their ox partners. Donkey might lead Ox to the good green grass and give him a little nose nudge like we give high fives.

But when Mr Ox is under the weather or just needs a break, Donkey kicks it in high gear and just like there were two oxen, he pulls the shit outta the load while Mr Ox takes on the administrative duties of the journey. They both have the express desire to get their load from point A to point B… they share a mission and they are both dedicated to that duty.

A human partnership is no different. Your race, class, social identity, aesthetics, and finances may intermingle or not, but if you are both guided by the same goals to develop and grow together into the best humans possible and bring the same levels of devotion to those goals, then you have forged a God match and not just an image match.

Bond with someone who has the same civic and spiritual goals. Otherwise, you will spend so much time trying to force what you think you need that you will miss out on the blessing you really need. A true partnership should enhance your life, and neither complicate it with a dueling mission nor simplify it with inconsequential factors.

Soul to Soul

Posted on by karyn deshields

So I know some amazing people who have their finger on the pulse of healing, wellness, and enlightenment! I saw this quote above on a healer friend’s Facebook post that spoke to me… and y’all know how I get when something gets my spirit stirring… I write. And immediately I had something to share upon reading it.

Let me break this down for you!

Know the difference between a SOULMATE and a SOUL LESSON… be clear this is not just about romantic partnerships, but relationships period. Some people are kindred spirits, you all just fit, like puzzle pieces. Others are spiritual guides placed into your path to get you back on the right journey, for a reason or maybe even a season, but purposeful nonetheless. So let’s explore this a bit.

I have a few soulmates, these are men and women who feed me morsels of love when I most need them. They connect with me beyond one note, they are friends, family, counselors, confidantes, and lifetime fixtures. I have a set of sistafriends who have been around since I was a young girl and others more recently acquired by my heartstrings, who support me, seem to know just when I need a boost, and are always on point and game tight when it comes to being available to me. I have the best boonapolis (yep, that’s a word… go best fran, that’s my best fran) in the modern world! I have male friends who are always around to protect, big up, and love me no matter what! We don’t always agree, but we agree on the one thing that matters most… we get by with a little help from our friends!

Soulmates are special. We’ve got acquaintances, friends, day ones, BFFs, and soulmates. The latter are like the unicorns of relationships, the virgins on a room of high school seniors, the girl with her real hair at a Bronner Brother’s Hair Show. You may have known them forever or just met them yesterday, but they kinda feel like your earthly twins.

Y’all finish each other’s sentences.

Say stuff like…get outta my head!

Can sense when the other is down or out, and needs your shoulder! Miles apart even.

They just get you!

You are their person!

And although they are a compliment to your existence, these are the folks that God created for you, and you for them… so you kinda do need them in a way that is unlike the rest of your friendships. It’s just different.

But just as soulmates are sent to soothe your soul, others are meant to help you get to the point where you are taking better care of your soul. So that you learn how to heal and nurture yourself so you heed the lessons that the universe has for you.

I had a soul lesson recently…

Without telling you too much of my business, (cuz I don’t know all of y’all like that), I reconnected with a soul I thought was good for mine. Turns out, he liked the idea of me better than the reality of me. He was envious of the successes, friends, networks, and connections I had made in life and couldn’t see over my big King King sized dreams… so he semi-ghosted me. Yep, #nathansnavy was lost at sea and my mirror bitch was like… squo?!?! He wanted to appear and disappear at his whim. Nawwww…. I’m not gon be able to do that, so I walked away. In the past, I would have stayed around much longer than I should have in the name of loyalty and commitment to someone who wasn’t loyal or committed to me. That was a soul lesson, and I got it, I passed. From now on I will take heed to those signs far before a year later…

Just like in school, the teacher keeps giving you tests to determine if you know the material. Only once you have mastered it, you move on to the next lesson. God is the teacher for your soul: injecting folks and situations into your life that you need to ensure you are being good to yourself, your mind, body, heart, and spirit, which resides in your soul.

Llewellyn Vaughn-Lee calls the soul, the “part of us that is one with God”, and since God is love, the soul must be the place in us where love resides. Most say it’s the heart, but the heart beats and gives us life, it is the conduit to living soulfully. And a life of soul is a life of love.

-First Corinthians by Karyn Lynn DeShields

So learning to love yourself and feed your soul are the soul lessons that we all need! However, we have to identify our lessons and our mates accordingly. A lesson we matriculate into our lives as a mate is a lesson not learned, a bad fit, and will eventually lead to a void of light in our soul. Don’t be afraid to cast out the darkness, learn the lesson, and seek love! Remember love is patient, kind, and food for the soul!

Chrishara Seyanna Dudley-Wilkes is a Life Teacher at Chris and Chrys Spiritual Concierge, connect with her on Facebook here.

Better Grab a Seat

Posted on by karyn deshields

This is personal, but I feel like I need to purge it… so here I go…

“Fuck niggas, get money”

Yep, that’s right.

Cuz these dudes be on some real fuckboy shit. And they

FORTY…

and above! Yep, 40. Four zero. Ten four times, 40 rotations around the sun. 14,610 Days if we count leap years. A decade less than HALF A CENTURY!

I mean I need somebody to help me out. How are you still insecure, ego-driven, lacking confidence, worried about dumb shit, still tryna screw raggedy broads, and sending unsolicited photos of your junk?!?!? Dude? Grow up… or don’t, but don’t fake the funk with me because you have gotten in practice lying to kick it with grown women.

Just stop!

I’m out here hustling, drinking a gallon of water a day so I have no time for foolishness or drama cuz I’m on the toilet, and taking care of everybody. Yep, saving the world. And you are being stupid, noncommittal, emotionally unintelligent, and silent. Who raised you? Who hurt you? Who didn’t hug you enough? And could you get some therapy for all of that before you grow a beard and cut all the strings from that 2 for $199 suit from Men’s Warehouse… that makes you look grown and matches that good shit you were talking, that upon later inspection was a Audre Lorde quote.

Please don’t misunderstand gentlemen, we ladies are aware that there are a lot of males in men’s clothing… unfortunately they have been studying your moves and got you down to a science at the audition and even at the screen testing, but they can’t perform. Suddenly they are unable to commit to the role, forget their lines, and forgot they had made other plans they simply cannot break. But we are tired of having our time wasted. At 20 it was cute. At 30 we figured they were about to grow out of it, but at this point it’s reached a level of fuckery we can’t entertain, and we want a Russell in our future.

We aren’t fully blaming males though, we have some fault. They say people show you who they are, and it usually happens earlier than we walk away. If we want the promise then we have to be faithful to it, and bust up as soon as we see that what we have is a boy not yet a man, despite the gray in his beard. It’s BEEN time to level up. But no time like the present.

Grown men at 40 are very different from 40 year old males.

Grown men can cook a meal.

Grown men aren’t waiting on a woman to take care of them, but know they too are here to take care of others.

Grown men are financially and otherwise stable or at least have a plan that they are working towards for financial stability… a plan they can verbalize with deadlines and action plans.

Grown men don’t entertain a woman beyond casual dating who he isn’t interested in something greater with, and if he is on any other page he is going to verbalize that clearly.

Grown men are emotionally available.

Grown men take care of their kids.

Grown men don’t waste women’s time.

Grown men don’t practice ghosting, silent treatment, dishonesty, or fucking foolishness.

There is no need… state your business and find someone on the same page. It’s simple.

So if you are a Future… go find you someone who likes the idea of needing Google translate on language : “dumb shit” to understand you. They are out there. But this play is on Broadway, it’s not the chitlin circuit, and only Russells need apply.

Meanwhile, we’ll be over here moisturizing, stacking these coins, and minding our business until a man shows his face. We have an example to show to our children, and we need strong partnerships as the backbone of the Black community, to ensure we continue to grow and get better. Otherwise, we are spreading toxicity and dysfunction around like peanut better and there is no jam…no perfect verse over a tight beat. So get it together!

This lesson has been brought to you by the letters J and M, and is…

“Just a lil somethin’, to let you [mofos] know”