Videos, news specials, articles, movies AND now… Super Bowl commercials are sticking it to the already bleeding reputation of the Black female. I wonder how such obvious stereotypes about us are constantly made and well received by mass audiences. Why are we such a target? One has to wonder how many white men we come into contact on the every day basis who see Black women as nothing more than man abusers and people lacking manners. Must a Black woman always be emasculating her man or husband?

This says so much about what society thinks of Black people. First off, it says that a Black man is not a “real man,” because he is always being cut down by a Black woman and feminized. Secondly, it says that Black women are the reason for male emasculation. Avoiding Black women is the only way to maintain masculinity. Is this true? Does strength equate to the constant emasculation of our men? Finally, this commercial suggests that all white women are friendly and fit, and that Black women are jealous and threatened by (white) women, and… that Black people as a whole are prone to violence and criminality (we have a lack of responsibility, and a lack of care for mankind… does anyone else see all of this?). Come on… there are too many white women clutching their purses for dear life and crossing the streets for fear of the “black brute” robbing or raping her for white women to constantly be fronted as the Black man’s best friend. And again, we must feel a bit of sorrow for the ever-present  helpless white woman (<– This link right HERE… click that). How about a slavery throwback of a pack of white men lusting after a sexy, natural haired Black woman? This indeed has more truth in it historically than this Black man lust rumor. And THAT would make a great ad.

Do I sound like I am stereotyping white women? Probably. I guess I’m just an angry Black woman.

But I get stereotyped more so than she does, and everyone actually believes that I fit my stereotypes, so I do not care.  And I don’t drink Pepsi.

(Word to my Twitter buddy NerdStickers for pointing this ad out to me. Check out his site.)

But he’s melting me with his honesty

I like running into him casually

Blue eyes, nice smile

He always has a clever word, a humorous thought

A sexual innuendo slipped ever so innocently into conversation, as if he never meant it that way

My heart races as I try to erase the smile from my face, he’s nothing like I thought he would be.

He’s handsome and charming, helpful and selfless

His body is tight, muscular and….. white

As if I could be any more NOT me in seeing myself with someone like that!

A shameful hypocrite, dreaming of hockey games and death metal

But just the same, I see the twinkle of activism in him. Maybe it is the inner me I see beyond the natural tan of his skin. Something that makes me see him as better than them.

He doesn’t look at me like they do

He disregards my physical and sees my soul as an enlivened body, not one to balance and weigh as less or more equal, but just as a fellow soul with interests and beliefs and values, someone to hold.. deep conversations with about wheat bread and high fructose corn syrup and…

Holding off against women who think men who shave their legs are weird…

No, baby, I see that as sexy and I fantasize about silk sheets with me and you between them

Not the physical us, just our souls that appreciate calorie counters and American History X

There’s something about you that makes me hope for more with us.

More than just occasional conversationalists.

More than just, this.

My mama told me not to lie, but I did it still
Beat my ass so much for it, numbed the nerves to feel
Never knew why she did it, everybody lies
People lie to my face about things I see with my own two eyes
But I let it go, grew up, pursuing my own dreams
Can’t listen to my mom, she don’t know a thing
Told me I’d amount to nothing, I don’t listen enough
She walks about acting like her child life was rough
Try being unwanted by both of your parents
You wonder why we don’t talk? I think its pretty apparent
Don’t leave your child with her grandmother, who mentally ill
Talks to God like he’s a person, people let’s be real
What’d you think what I would come to be, a model child?
With all the violence and the apathy, I’d become mild?
Silly mom, shit is for toilet bowls, stop talking crap
Don’t tell me after I was born dad wasn’t ‘bout to snap
He wanted a boy. Not a girl, not a child at all
Trapped him, maybe? So he’d stay? Naw, bitch, bad call.
First chance for escape, you fought in Desert Storm
Left me behind, took your chance to reform
For-get your child, who can’t sleep at night
With cold sheets, no mom, no one holding her tight
Send her off to her dad, whose a child besides
Leaves for hours, she’s alone, and she’s only five
How could you let your daughter live this kind of life?

This was my Facebook status today. And with this, I will let you in on the discussion that follows between some good friends of mine:

Martin Luther King, Jr, Rosa Parks, Jesse Jackson, Homer Plessy, Dred Scott, Sojourner Truth, Malcolm X, Harriet Tubman, Marcus Garvey, Medgar Evers, Frederick Douglass, Ruby Bridges, Linda Brown and COUNTLESS OTHERS didn’t like America’s injustices against US and because of those people educating others and speaking out about their grievances (as given to them by the 1st Amendment) YOU were able to go to one of the best high schools in the United States without segregation, YOU were able to take a desegregated bus to school and now YOU are able to join the military and become a pawn for the government and tell me, like rednecks in backwoods say all the time, that if I “don’t like America (I could) move to Africa”. And I think it’s pretty F***ed up that you would say that to me, because I deserve to live here. My ancestors made this country what it is, the global powerhouse that has destroyed the lives of millions worldwide because of invasion and deception. I would be doing a disservice to my country to leave in it this condition. I would equally be doing it a disservice to gallantly wave a flag around that has so much blood on it. I will not allow myself to be assimilated into the masses of people of color who forget what we have done to make America better, without putting on a uniform and without ousting others to other countries because they don’t agree with our foreign and domestic policies.

Drew replies:

I’ll be updating this throughout the conversation. Stay tuned…

NOTE:

As I expose my phobia, I do so with the backing of disturbing facts in my mind. Roe v. Wade has indeed worked against the Black community in making it easier for Black women to easily destroy themselves with invasive surgeries to kill the future and birth control that goes against the cycles of nature, sometimes robbing us of our ability have children when we want to. The Guttmacher Institute, a pro-abortion group, reports that 1,784 blacks are aborted each day. Three out of five pregnant African-American women will obtain an abortion.
Abortion has been used as a means of hindering population growth for racial minorities, which is why Planned Parenthood are strategically located in poor and minority communities as a means of genocide. As a Black woman, I fight myself on my fear versus my knowledge and activism, and find it paradoxical that I feel this way. But on I write…

I noticed my fear of babies, children, and pregnant women very young. I was six years old when my mother was pregnant with my younger brother. I watched her as she went from a modest-sized woman with ample capacities to a rounder, more tired woman, who looked absolutely pitiful. The bigger her stomach became, the more pitiful she looked. She complained about pains she never had before. She ate and acted awkwardly. She couldn’t run down the steps with me to go outside. And for some reason, I just wanted to push her over and squash that stupid growth, this cancer in her stomach that made her slower and more dependent on others. She could not carry as many grocery bags as before. And I cannot stress it more: she was sooo slow. I have never been too sympathetic or patient, but when I realized that she has done that to herself, I spited her.

She had me. I was a good kid, right? Good grades, did sports, and with all that she had put me through with basically leasing me to my father to teach us both a lesson (him that he was incapable of taking care of a child, me that he had no better living situation than I had with her), she decided while I’m gone to get this replacement family with an abusive husband (who loves living in danger zones) and a brand-new me! I was beyond done, to come into a situation where your father doesn’t have the balls to tell you, “It’s just not working out” so he coerces his mom to “drop you off to see mommy” and NEVER comes back. So now I’m the unwanted add-on to this family portrait. Everyone is awaiting this brand new bundle of joy that is supposed to exit my disfigured image of a mom who used to love just me in October… And I’m old, seven-year-old archived news.

Well, if I couldn’t have my mom and my dad together, like things were supposed to be, I knew where I could find what I wanted: my godparents, Judy and Allen.  Judy had been bowling buddies with my paternal grandmother, Susie. Judy desperately wanted a child, but found it impossible to have one for years. Allen had children but they were all grown. Through years of him only being a breadwinner and not a real father to his kids, I think he saw me as a second chance. I felt his admiration every time I looked at him. He was everything I wanted in my father. Judy was amazing as well. She was a fun-loving person, a traditionalist and an independent woman wrapped up into one. She loved to cook and clean, and her home always looked like the houses in magazines. But she was a worker as well. She made her own money and could handle on her own if need-be. Her want for a child fit in with my want for a loving female figure, and we happily fulfilled each others wishes. Her home and lifestyle was my vacation away from the sadness, loneliness and bitter anger I felt at home. They both treated me like I was their own wanted child. All-in-all, Judy and Allen were the perfect couple, and they modeled the expectations of a relationship in my young eye.

I remember when Qadir was born. His father said he looked just like me. I was so disgusted and angry by his statement. If he’s a facsimile of me, he needs to GO. I hated my brother. He was cute, but all he did was scream and soil himself, yet he was the one who received all of the attention. There were distinct differences in our conceptions that played hugely in my acceptance to this new step-father and step-family I was being forced into. Qadir was wanted and planned under the guise of marriage, and I was the mistake, the bastard child my mother dropped at nineteen. My mother could have been anything if she hadn’t had me at such a young age. She was in the military, and had dreams of finishing her services and going to college by way of the government. My mother graduated on June 24, 1988; I was born in June of 1989. She WAS GONE, serving, until she became pregnant with HIM. And she never went back after him. She was fine leaving me alone. But him? Not even for Qadir, but for HIM, she never went back. She was willing to entrust everyone with my raising so that she could pursue her dream in spite of me, but decided to be a good mother and a good wife for THEM. I became very hateful towards my mother because of her choices. She should have aborted me at 19. She should have aborted him at 25. She should have never been married that early. Her life could have turned out so much better.

She says she got exactly what she wanted. A boy and a girl. She received her 2^nd priority child first, and because of her bad choices, I learned early that I could not depend on her to express my feelings to her, help me with my homework, give me advice, or tell her that her husband hurt me. I did not trust her. Instead of working with me until I understood that my father had issues, she sent me away at 5 years old to shut me up and learn the hard way that he was bad news. And she punished him for his mistake of impregnating her with me. And while she’s swung the keys to this penal sentence of a year of non-stop father-child interaction, she tried to start her life anew. My punishment for being born has lead to a lifetime of feeling inadequate in her eyes, even when I did the best at every task that was given to me. A’s. Awards. Ceremonies. Honors. Scholarships. Acceptances. A diploma. Free rides to college near and far. Meaningless.

Even now, as I pursue two bachelor’s degrees, and I edge closer to becoming the only person in my family to have one, I feel lower than my brother, who has never achieved the caliber of educational success that I had at his age. Like a baby’s functionality, he has been gazed over and marveled for doing nothing more but shitting and eating and crying. And yet she still admires him. Even with the support of my teachers, my grandmother, and my godparents, I never forgave my brother for his existence, and I never believed that my mother loved me as much as she loved her son.

So maybe that’s why I hate kids.

A fear of children and babies is called pedophobia.

A fear of pregnancy is called tocaphobia.

The Black Male Privileges Checklist
By Jewel Woods
© Renaissance Male Project (2008)

“…Male privilege is more than just a “double standard”, because it is based on attitudes or actions that come at the expense of women. Just as white privilege comes at the expense of African Americans and other people of color, gender double standards come at the expense of women…Examining black male privileges offers black men and boys an opportunity to go beyond old arguments of “personal responsibility” or “blaming the man” to gain a deeper level of insight into how issues of class and race are influenced by gender. Gender is one of the most important tools in the production and reproduction of power because it relies on consent and not just coercion…The items represented on the Black Male Privileges Checklist reflect aspects of Black men’s lives that we take for granted, which appear to be “double standards,” but in fact are male privileges that come at the expense of women in general and African American women in particular.

I offer this checklist based on years of experience working with men, and with the faith that we as men have far more to gain than we have to lose by challenging the privileges that we take for granted.

Leadership & Politics
1. I don’t have to choose my race over my sex in political matters.
2. When I read African American History textbooks, I will learn mainly about black men.
3. When I learn about the Civil Rights Movement & the Black Power Movements, most of the leaders that I will learn about will be black men.
4. I can rely on the fact that in the near 100-year history of national civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the Urban League, virtually all of the executive directors have been male.
5. I will be taken more seriously as a political leader than black women.
6. Despite the substantial role that black women played in the Civil Rights Movement and Black Power Movement, currently there is no black female that is considered a “race leader”.
7. I can live my life without ever having read black feminist authors, or knowing about black women’s history, or black women’s issues.
8. I can be a part of a black liberation organization like the Black Panther Party where an “out” rapist Eldridge Cleaver can assume leadership position.
9. I will make more money than black women at equal levels of education and occupation.
10. Most of the national “opinion framers” in Black America including talk show hosts and politicians are men.

Beauty
11. I have the ability to define black women’s beauty by European standards in terms of skin tone, hair, and body size. In comparison, black women rarely define me by European standards of beauty in terms of skin tone, hair, or body size.
12. I do not have to worry about the daily hassles of having my hair conforming to any standard image of beauty the way black women do.
13. I do not have to worry about the daily hassles of being terrorized by the fear of gaining weight. In fact, in many instances bigger is better for my sex.
14. My looks will not be the central standard by which my worth is valued by members of the opposite sex.

Sex & Sexuality
15. I can purchase pornography that typically shows men defile women by the common practice of the “money shot.”
16. I can believe that causing pain during sex is connected with a woman’s pleasure without ever asking her.
17. I have the privilege of not wanting to be a virgin, but preferring that my wife or significant other be a virgin.
18. When it comes to sex if I say “No”, chances are that it will not be mistaken for “Yes”.
19. If I am raped, no one will assume that “I should have known better” or suggest that my being raped had something to do with how I was dressed.
20. I can use sexist language like bonin’, laying the pipe, hittin-it, and banging that convey images of sexual acts based on dominance and performance.
21. I can live in a world where polygamy is still an option for men in the United States as well as around the world.
22. In general, I prefer being involved with younger women socially and sexually
23. In general, the more sexual partners that I have the more stature I receive among my peers.
24. I have easy access to pornography that involves virtually any category of sex where men degrade women, often young women.
25. I have the privilege of being a part of a sex where “purity balls” apply to girls but not to boys.
26. When I consume pornography, I can gain pleasure from images and sounds of men causing women pain.

Popular Culture
27. I come from a tradition of humor that is based largely on insulting and disrespecting women; especially mothers.
28. I have the privilege of not having black women, dress up and play funny characters- often overweight- that are supposed to look like me for the entire nation to laugh.
29. When I go to the movies, I know that most of the leads in black films are men. I also know that all of the action heroes in black film are men.
30. I can easily imagine that most of the artists in Hip Hop are members of my sex.
31. I can easily imagine that most of the women that appear in Hip Hop videos are there solely to please men
32. Most of lyrics I listen to in hip-hop perpetuate the ideas of males dominating women, sexually and socially.
33. I have the privilege of consuming and popularizing the word pimp, which is based on the exploitation of women with virtually no opposition from other men.
34. I can hear and use language bitches and hoes that demean women, with virtually no opposition from men.
35. I can wear a shirt that others and I commonly refer to as a “wife beater” and never have the language challenged.
36. Many of my favorite movies include images of strength that do not include members of the opposite sex and often are based on violence.
37. Many of my favorite genres of films, such as martial arts, are based on violence.
38. I have the privilege of popularizing or consuming the idea of a thug, which is based on the violence and victimization of others with virtually no opposition from other men.

Attitudes/Ideology
39. I have the privilege to define black women as having “an attitude” without referencing the range of attitudes that black women have.
40. I have the privilege of defining black women’s attitudes without defining my attitudes as a black man.
41. I can believe that the success of the black family is dependent on returning men to their historical place within the family, rather than in promoting policies that strengthen black women’s independence, or that provide social benefits to black children.
42. I have the privilege of believing that a woman cannot raise a son to be a man.
43. I have the privilege of believing that a woman must submit to her man.
44. I have the privilege of believing that before slavery gender relationships between black men and women were perfect.
45. I have the privilege of believing that feminism is anti-black.
46. I have the privilege of believing that the failure of the black family is due to the black matriarchy.
47. I have the privilege of believing that household responsibilities are women’s roles.
48. I have the privilege of believing that black women are different sexually than other women and judging them negatively based on this belief.

Sports
49. I will make significantly more money as a professional athlete than members of the opposite sex will.
50. In school, girls are cheerleaders for male athletes, but there is no such role for males to cheerlead for women athletes.
51. My financial success or popularity as a professional athlete will not be associated with my looks.
52. I can talk about sports or spend large portions of the day playing video games while women are most likely involved with household or childcare duties.
53. I can spend endless hours watching sports TV and have it considered natural.
54. I can touch, hug, or be emotionally expressive with other men while watching sports without observers perceiving this behavior as sexual.
55. I know that most sports analysts are male.
56. If I am a coach, I can motivate, punish, or embarrass a player by saying that the player plays like a girl.
57. Most sports talk show hosts that are members of my race are men.
58. I can rest assured that most of the coaches -even in predominately-female sports within my race are male.
59. I am able to play sports outside without my shirt on and it not be considered a problem.
60. I am essentially able to do anything inside or outside without my shirt on, whereas women are always required to cover up.

Diaspora/Global
61. I have the privilege of being a part of a sex where the mutilation and disfigurement of a girl’s genitalia is used to deny her sexual sensations or to protect her virginity for males.
62. I have the privilege of not having rape be used as a primary tactic or tool to terrorize my sex during war and times of conflict.
63. I have the privilege of not being able to name one female leader in Africa or Asia, past or present, that I pay homage to the way I do male leaders in Africa and/or Asia.
64. I have the ability to travel around the world and have access to women in developing countries both sexually and socially.
65. I have the privilege of being a part of the sex that starts wars and that wields control of almost all the existing weapons of war and mass destruction.

College
66. In college, I will have the opportunity to date outside of the race at a much higher rate than black women will.
67. I have the privilege of having the phrase “sewing my wild oats” apply to my sex as if it were natural.
68. I know that the further I go in education the more success I will have with women.
69. In college, black male professors will be involved in interracial marriages at much higher rates than members of the opposite sex will.
70. By the time I enter college, and even through college, I have the privilege of not having to worry whether I will be able to marry a black woman.
71. In college, I will experience a level of status and prestige that is not offered to black women even though black women may outnumber me and out perform me academically.
72. If I go to an HBCU, I will have incredible opportunities to exploit black women

Communication/Language
73. What is defined as “News” in Black America is defined by men.
74. I can choose to be emotionally withdrawn and not communicate in a relationships and it be considered unfortunate but normal.
75. I can dismissively refer to another persons grievances as ^*ing.
76. I have the privilege of not knowing what words and concepts like patriarchy, phallocentric, complicity, colluding, and obfuscation mean.

Relationships
77. I have the privilege of marrying outside of the race at a much higher rate than black women marry.
78. My “strength” as a man is never connected with the failure of the black family, whereas the strength of black women is routinely associated with the failure of the black family.
79. If I am considering a divorce, I know that I have substantially more marriage, and cohabitation options than my spouse.
80. Chances are I will be defined as a “good man” by things I do not do as much as what I do. If I don’t beat, cheat, or lie, then I am a considered a “good man”. In comparison, women are rarely defined as “good women” based on what they do not do.
81. I have the privilege of not having to assume most of the household or child-care responsibilities.
82. I have the privilege of having not been raised with domestic responsibilities of cooking, cleaning, and washing that takes up disproportionately more time as adults.

Church & Religious Traditions
83. In the Black Church, the majority of the pastoral leadership is male.
84. In the Black Church Tradition, most of the theology has a male point of view. For example, most will assume that the man is the head of household.

Physical Safety
85. I do not have to worry about being considered a traitor to my race if I call the police on a member of the opposite sex.
86. I have the privilege of knowing men who are physically or sexually abusive to women and yet I still call them friends.
87. I can video tape women in public- often without their consent – with male complicity.
88. I can be courteous to a person of the opposite sex that I do not know and say “Hello” or “Hi” and not fear that it will be taken as a come-on or fear being stalked because of it.
89. I can use physical violence or the threat of physical violence to get what I want when other tactics fail in a relationship.
90. If I get into a physical altercation with a person of the opposite sex, I will most likely be able to impose my will physically on that person
91. I can go to parades or other public events and not worry about being physically and sexually molested by persons of the opposite sex.
92. I can touch and physically grope women’s bodies in public- often without their consent- with male complicity.
93. In general, I have the freedom to travel in the night without fear.
94. I am able to be out in public without fear of being sexually harassed by individuals or groups of the opposite sex.

Jewel Woods is a gender analyst specializing in men’s issues and executive director of the Renaissance Male Project . He is also the co-author of ‘Don’t Blame it on Rio: The Real Deal Behind Why Men Go to Brazil for Sex.’

To learn more about the author, check out his website. What are your thoughts? Did he leave any out? I think I have one to add:

95: (A Black male) can write a list of Black male priviliges and not be disregarded as a “bitter Black woman” and ignored.

Discuss!

I say nigga lovingly and smile while you stand in a daze thinking if you will be that one Black sista who

calls me out because

Nigga, nigga I thought you was down, don’t go to college and think you too good to come back to the

hood and be what you always was with ya black ass

Look at yo hair you aint passin for anything else but a

Nigga, yeah I said it. Imus was so right when he called yall hos

Cuz that’s what yall are, see, you wanna be educated and fall in line with yo

New York Times readin ass I remember the time you were known to beat ass

Bitches stepped and got wet yeah back then you was that

Nigga, now you just a figure of what you said you’d never be,

Sippin lattes at Starbucks and talking white, pressing clothes and fightin?

You aint did it in years but I know when you hear that base jumpin in some

Niggas hoop you fight that urge to be that nigga you are,

That nigga who switched hips and threw fits and started shit

Who slapped a bitch and then smacked her lips

You were always the shit to me but out the blue you leave and come back with

Blue books and soft looks, not the fear that once shook

Niggas. You know afta you get them papers, degrees

You still the nigga, the bitch that your soul was pleased being

The culture of ghetto is trapped within

And your Janet and Jim can still see yo skin, so

Nigga, how you ever gonna leave a nigga behind?

Black History Month has always held a special place in my heart. Sure, I love MLK Day in January, MX Day (who?) in April, and Juneteenth (what?) in June, but nothing quite touches my deep roots in Afrika (yes, Afrika) more than the shortest month of the year my people were relegated to for celebrating our little known history. It’s a great present, seeing as though white people on my campus seem to think that I don’t KNOW it’s Black History Month. (Yes, I do! Do you know who Carter G. Woodson is? No? Right.)

As a student worker in the residence halls, I’ve decided that the best way to educate my residents is to force it upon them unwillingly. There’s a little study corner I noticed people like to sit, so I decided to make that my “Subliminal Learning Corner,” and every few weeks I decorate it with useful, encouraging, and entertaining information. In the past I’ve done “The Halloween Story” and “Who Like Work?” (information about studying and famous people,  whatever). So during February, i wanted to do a Black History Museum, and I decided to get bold and decorate the whole floor hallway. Can you see where this may go wrong?

I talked to the other RA (who is white) down the hall about my idea, and he was cool with it! He’s taking a Black Communications class and saw it as a good opportunity to excercise some of the things he was learning . Great. I talk to my (white) boss about it. Fine. I held a meeting before we even started decorating with ALL the residents (who are, with the exception of 4 people including me, white)! So it’s decorated, and everyone who was suppose to volunteer to help put it up, didn’t. And when my fellow RA and I are putting it up, this white resident with his door open asks what we are doing. I say, “we’re putting up the Black History Montage” and he replies, “no, we aren’t” with a air (or gust) of rudeness. I pointed at my fellow RA and myself and said, “no, WE are putting it up,” which is when he calmed down and realized I wasn’t asking for his help. Then he went back to his business.

Today, I find out a group in the hall that is supposed to be making moves in here was joking about the Montage and how it was unnecessary. I let all of the people involved know what I was doing, and asked them how they felt about it, and no one had anything to say! I seems to me that white people never can criticize anything a Black person does honestly, especially when it comes to issues dealing with race! I thought white people lived in a “post-racial” society, so why does it seem that so many whites still have difficulties communicating with Black people? Is it just me, the Black nationalist, who cannot be rationalized with?

I talked shortly with a unknown white person in the elevator while we rose to our floor. All I said was, “I shouldn’t have done it?” He immediately knew what I was talking about, and said, “Nooo..um.. You know you didn’t do it any other time…” And the doors opened, and we parted ways. And I repeat, is it just me? Granted, he was not my resident (which means I probably just heard the gospel of my white students) but this lounge corner has been visibly decorated since the beginning of the year, and has never had a “Black” or even “racial” tone to it. Halloween told the Irish folktale, and I learned something! Do I have to be diverse only when it is beneficial to others, or can I tell my story too?

I noticed this a long time ago, but alas, the only time white students give a damn about Black history is when they are getting a grade for knowing it. And the only time white people want to tell the truth to a Black person about an issue is when they are alone (as to not give away the big white secret/joke) and cornered (in an elevator, for example). And it’s a damn shame.

I been raised in a proletariat’s system, where I, as well as the rest of my Black sista and brothas, have been  the victim of indoctrination. I have been taught to believe that all my ancestors have done is meaningless to white people (hence, slavery is about the only thing about Black people in elementary, high school, and college history textbooks until you get to Martin Luther King ["guess nothing happened with them for 400-500 years"]).  It only enrages me to see that after white people have been given the resources to know that the BS they have been fed as well is false, they still don’t want to know any more truth about American history. They do not go out of their way to attend cultural events, thought I, as a Black student, am required to attend lectures where my white professor thinks its okay to say the N-word out of his mouth, twice, during a Black History lesson. They do not approve of my reminders of Black achievement hanging in the hall in February but I am forced into not learning or working on Columbus Day, President’s Day, The Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving (and more!) because they want to celebrate days that honor OPPRESSION and historical LIES (What is Columbus Day and Thanksgiving to a Native? What is The Fourth of July to a slave in 1776?).

Even more sickening is the future that is paved for these ignorant children. They will graduate to be painted as this thoughtful, changed,“refined citizens” that college graduates are developed into during their tenure. But no, it is a fallacy, as much of a fallacy that whites are supportive and willing participants in the stirring of pepper into the melting pot that has always been bland. Or too salty. If you get my drift.

Don’t you see me? No? Neither do I.

Getting it on without sneaking around.

Drinking and then driving it into that puddy.

Figuring out how Karrine Steffans does that “thing” with her mouth that took Mr. Marcus down in 30 seconds.

Whether we admit it or not, we’ve had some pretty freakish anticipation about what to do in these four years that we might not get a chance to do after them. As a junior, I have had two full years of scratching just about nothing off of my personal list (damn my committed heart!) and have witnessed two years of freaks cover all of the acts on my checklist times five. In their first quarter. Especially the freshman sistas.

Football players. Basketball players. A quarter-to-half of the campus NPHC orgs. A club/org president or two. And their LINKS (freshman) adviser. Damn. Some of my sistas have already hampered their chances of any respectful or honorable reputation on campus before Thanksgiving. They are giving upperclass-men everything to be thankful for. These young women walk around with their heads held high as if they have achieved what no others could or have. They don’t take advice from upperclass-women and their warnings about them being fresh meat. They believe they are getting hated on. And they don’t want to hear anything about “he’s this girl’s boyfriend” or “he Facebook stalks chicks right out of high school.” I have heard my fair amount of boasts about having sex with “men” who they can only identify as “that dude on the football team with the locs.” Really? You can’t get a name before you let him slide himself into you?!?!

THAT IS SICK.

I can only off-handedly call girls who condone the objectification of themselves “bops.” I picked this term up from my people from Cleveland, which is a loving word for what I would usually call a “hoe,” “slut,” “skeeze,” and overall “trifiling bitch.” I try to refrain from calling my sistas these terms, but if is fucks like a duck and sucks like a duck, well, quack quack.

I seriously understand that it is in NO WAY none of my business who individual girls sleep with, but when the Black community at a school is less than 3% of the school’s population, there is no way that a chick boasting about her skeletons is going to stay in the closet. And besides, Black people love to talk. About everyone. Especially ourselves. So if Mr. Black-and-Blue starts listing off who he’s knocked off to all his boys, and someone “overhears” what “knowledge” Ms. FreshMeat’s been giving out, not only will she be the undercover gossip, she’ll find herself with droves of wolves trying to be her “friend” or “buddy,” but really trying to tear that hide to pieces.

My bias seems to get the best of me when it comes to situations like this one. How does one separate the females who are just “sexually liberated” from the hoes? Is it possible for a college sista to have some good lovin’ without being seen as “wide open”?

When I look at a 19-year-old sista, fresh out of high school, I can’t look at her as a “liberated” woman. I see a naive child; an orphan to a world her parents never prepared her for. College is NOT the real world, as some people may think. It’s missing many real-world concepts that are substituted by a hell of a lot of free time compared to the lower years of schooling, a lot more attractive, seeming mature men (that we’ve been “waiting to date,” because high school dudes are BS), and a mind that is free from parental discipline. It’s a big adult playground and all the toys are set out in front of you. But when being “free” means suddenly losing your virginity to the big name on campus, and sleeping with three more of his closest friends (and three of his worst enemies), it’s a sign of hoodrat-ness. And hoodrat-ness does not equate adulthood. The drama that some women create by sleeping with men who have set relationships with each other is enough for me to call someone a slut, because a slut is only about self-satisfaction and thinks with her puss, not her brain. Why would ANYONE want to find out their best friend and them are sleeping with the same girl?

HOW MANY SONGS MUST BE MADE TO GET THE POINT ACROSS THAT THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!?!?!?

 If only JuicyCampus had never been shut down…. Yeah, I said it. We all know what they said was true.

All in all, I think it’s unfair that women are often considered sluts for sleeping around. But damn, WHAT ARE YOU THEN!?!?! We women say that this view of us supports a double standard because men are never judged for their excessive, often just-as-trifiling sexual activity and behavior. But is this really something we want to be equal on? Sleeping with as many men as the biggest man-hoe on campus is not going to earn us respect as women. If women are trophies, shouldn’t one set the highest standards for presenting one’s rewards? Because it’s never going to be seen as an accomplishment that you slopped up the best stepper on campus. If anything, one should be suprised that you “finally” awarded someone with that kind of special prize. No one should be rolling their eyes or sighing about it. Except the billions of other men who thought you were like the rest when you weren’t! 

Some women believe that you don’t have to be in a relationship to have sex, and that all one needs is attraction, a certain amount of trust (which seems to be gained quite easily after Thirsty Thursdays or a party held by Greeks). I don’t understand how one can trust someone without having a relationship with them. With chlamydia as popular an STI as it is around ALL college campuses like it’s a fashion, and gonorrhea, herpes, and HIV not trailing too far behind, one would think that women had more respect for their bodies and avoided meaningless sex with strangers. But I guess athlete’s muscles prevent them from being able to transmit SEXUALLY TRANSMITTED INFECTIONS AND LIFELONG DISEASES, and wearing Greek letters does the same. *cough* And condoms DON’T protect against everything, including your rep on campus from being destroyed before people even connect name with face.

Leave “Sex and the City” to old bats that are making money and aren’t surrounded by people who can learn of all of their biz.

And you aren’t Trina or Lil’ Kim, either…

So stop acting like a hootrat and open a damn book, not your legs.

Let me know what you think.

Brothas… don’t THINK you got away from me. I’m grilling you all next!

 A little more study…

A little less ass….

                                                                                …And a complete abolition of messing with little girls!