Why do black men play so many games? Are our men irretrievably broken? Does the black man hate black women? Why am I not enough?  These were the types of toxic, lower vibrational questions that I would silently ask myself  at the end of a situation that ran its course. I went from being the quiet “homegirl” to the jaded sista in her 30’s. Dating will kill you, especially in a city like Atlanta…

I have ended a few past situations on great terms. However, the bad ones required a lot of growth and healing afterwards… Still… Like so many sista’s, I allowed my process to make grow bitter. I completely lost faith in the black man. I never thought that I would feel that way.  But there I was.  Somehow, I ended up accepting the “victim mentality”. What made it even worse was that I would justify why it was okay to accept the narrative that “Black men ain’t shit” and declared them to be the worst thing to happen to the black woman post-integration… I was in a lot of pain.

This article may seem all over the place from the introduction but… Hear me out before you go HAMM and buss it open all over the comments…

Reality Check:

“It’s not  that all black men ain’t shit. Maybe it’s something about YOU, boo! The black men that YOU choose to emotionally invest yourself in are not good for YOU… At the end of the day, flies are attracted to death, odor, and rot… Nobody likes flies. There is something going on with you, sis. The partners that you choose is a mirror, a mere reflection of YOU.”

What do you do when your higher self checks your lower self like that? Search for your damn edges!

PILL: You can point all of your fingers, recollect every painful memory, bring up all kinds of examples of infidelity,  or whatever a man did to break your spirit.  At the end of the day, while  those things may be valid, its bigger than that. You played a role in said negative outcome. We as human beings always have a choice…. Regardless of the outcome of our decisions, nobody should have the power to take away our level of loving in any way. YOU make choices for your life. For me to personally shift the blame on all black men because I got bit by a few snakes, that I willingly invited into my life, is wrong and a bit narcissistic. At the end of the day, it’s about growth and addressing the questions that may sting but are designed to heal. What was your role, sis? Sis is me.

I also have to look at the “Black men ain’t shit” argument from the perspective of being someone’s mother. I am a woman raising young black men. Their lives deserve a chance to grow and thrive just as much as anyone elses. If they hear their own mother yelling “Black men ain’t shit” every time she gets angry or wronged by someone that looks like them, they are eventually going to internalize that. How could they not? It does not matter how much I may spoil my sons or love on them, they are evolving. By saying  that Black men ain’t shit, I am automatically crossing them out and cursing them. Raising black men from a lower vibrational place of pain is detrimental to the future growth and development of our community. “Black men ain’t shit” screams TOXIC FEMININITY.

This is how the cycles  continue to infect our future generations. I had to think about this argument and here are the points that i’ve made:

Accountability

At the end of the day, It is nobody’s fault but my own for tolerating situations/individuals that meant me NO DAMN WELL. I  have never been forced  into a relationship that I didn’t choose to partake in… Furthermore, Nobody has ever made me accept unfair treatment, in any situation, that was on me. I have had my share of good relationships gone bad, but at the end of the day, nobody every forced me to stay, hold them  down, prostitute my body (naw, I have never), murder, or anything else that you can think of.

Instead of over-processing where someone else hurt you, you have to look inward.  You  have to ask yourself the hard questions that really matter: What part did I play in my own pain? How did I end up here? What have I learned?

You have to question yourself, not others around you. The fact that I accepted some things in the name of “love”, only  shows the fractured little girl deep within that never had an example of a healthy relationship. It’s easy to shift the blame on another because taking accountability for self can be painful when you are talking about your ugly. In shifting blame, we only further prove that our maturity level still needs time to ripen.

Red Flags

There are always signs in everything. I am a firm believer that we receive signs daily, it’s up to us to decide if we take heed or not. When I reflect on situations that damaged me the most… There were always red flags.  The reality is: In most cases, I ignored the signs and/or made excuses for the warnings. Those rose color lenses are a bitch and we as women can be our own worst enemy based off of perception. Furthermore, we are not obligated to “fix” or “heal” through sex magic, or holding a man down especially if we have our own spiritual maintenance that we have been neglecting.. In most situations that have gone bad, there are always red flags and idicators. Did you pay attention.

This may sound corny but…

If you do not speak to my inner ME, I can’t deal with you.

If you are not my best friend, I don’t want any dealings with you.

My power and energy are far to sacred for anything less.

I get it completely now…

I did NOT choose ME

This is the hardest pill to swallow. Nobody ever told me to choose myself. I had to learn that lesson the hard way. No, I do not have daddy issues neither. Deep down, I never felt like I was AMAZING. I lost my sense of purpose. That is a problem. When I really realized that at the end of the day, I am the ultimate prize, I began to value myself differently. I began to use my voice but in a different way.

“Black men ain’t Shit!”… I can’t scream this madness and make it justifiable. By screaming that, I am escaping. This is narcissistic. This literally is the equivalent to saying, “Ain’t nothing wrong with me, he’s fukked up.” Black women, who live by this, you are a problem.

This post is really personal. I needed to write this. Now, I look at previous bad choices as learning lessons. It’s up to me to make sure that I don’t keep repeating the same lesson. For first time, I am choosing me.

In Conclusion

Also, I am nobody’s angel. Sometimes, I have been the bad guy. Furthermore, by continuing to endorse this statement, I am literally spitting in the face of ex- lovers  that I ended of good terms with. Not every relationship was a bad one that ended horribly. I did more than just realized that, I took ownership in the fact that I felt like this and just like that, I asked: Where was my discernment?

Lastly, I will NEVER have a successful relationship with anybody’s son thinking like this. Why try? Healing is important, even if you don’t know how to. The hatred that  I allowed to get inside  of my spirit and fester because I didn’t make my healing a priority is hard to exorcise. When you allow yourself to heal, you forgive yourself, you learn, and you do better.

I still believe in the power and love of a solid black union, I will never fix my mouth or mind to continue the narrative that Black men ain’t shit. Love y’all.