Patriarchal cultures throughout the world share commonalities, but they also have distinctions.
One distinction that makes Black Patriarchy different from patriarchy in other cultures is that it is a system where men seek to rule, but refuse to build.
For example, if we look at Black neighborhoods throughout the United States, we notice a pattern that either White men and/or non-Black immigrant men do most of the building and control most, if not all, of the resources (water, electricity, fuel, food, shelter, clothing, medicine, transportation, education, law and order, and communication systems).
What I find so funny about all of this is that Black men do the most talking about “building,” but do the least amount of building in Black neighborhoods. Of course, none of this is the Black man’s fault, “because White supremacy.”
Black patriarchalist men want Black women to submit to them and obey them in a patriarchy…
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Recently I posted my third grade class photo and I can’t help but be fascinated by the little girl that I used to be in that picture. I was third from the left with two pigtails parted straight in the middle (my favorite hairstyle) and I had on a red turtleneck sweater and a denim jean skirt on. I had a huge smile on my face and I looked so happy.
That was in 1978. I was almost eight years old and I was a genuinely happy child during that period in my life. Although my father only came around sporadically, it didn’t matter to me because I had my ladies or The Matriarchs as I now refer to them. These ladies consisted of my mother, my aunts Rosie, Mary, and Maggie. My grandmother and my cousin Cleo.
I was the youngest child born to my mother and the youngest grandchild of 46. I lived in a building with my ladies and I was spoiled and petted. During school vacations, I would wait for my mother to come home from work and be in her face for a little bit and when my aunts got home from work, I would be in their faces. My grandmother didn’t work so I would spend lazy summer days with her, listening to slave narratives about hants (Southern vernacular for ghosts) and bones who refused to stay still.
Anytime my cousin Cleo would look like she was going anywhere, I was right by her side because where Cleo was, fun times was around. We go visit our other cousins in Bronzeville and sometimes she would take me and the rest of the cousins to to the Museum of Science and Industry or to the beach.
Life was so easy for me in those day before I got molested which would take place three years later and continue for four years. So much of my innocence was stripped away and I can tell when I see other pictures of myself as I grew older. Cynicism and wariness was in my eyes although I still had that big beautiful smile.
Maybe that’s why I absolutely despise child molesters, rapists and their ilk. These monsters strip away the innocence of children and childhood is supposed to be the happiest time of a human’s life. No child should have to worry about what’s going to happen when it gets dark. Or have to wear their street clothes to bed for fear of being groped.
But I see that little girl in the face of my grandson Karter. The same smile, the happiness, the joy of being alive and carefree. I would kill a motherfucker if I thought someone was trying to take away his joy.
We are currently in the Season of the Scorpion, the greatest zodiac of all time. I remember reading a long time ago that the Scorpion sign governs the pelvis, and reproductive (sexual organs) and I have learned the hard way as a Scorpion woman that this is true because my reproductive organs have been giving me hell my entire life. Three c-sections, a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy that almost cost me my life and did cost me a Fallopian tube and now at a stage when I should be in menopause, I have been diagnosed with two uterine fibroids (one the size of a grapefruit and the other the size of an egg, and a benign cyst on my left ovary.
And I am also going through perimenopause which is the period before menopause in which hormonal imbalances causes your brain to turn into mush (brain fog), you are constantly sweating and freezing at the same time (night sweats and chills), and you hate everybody (mood changes). But I am digressing because this article is for men who refuse to stay their asses out of the reproductive health affairs of women.
From the old ass white politicians who are a stroke away from using Viagra (if they are not using it already) to dusty Hoteps who are getting paid off the gullibility of silly ass Black women by telling them to eat nuts and berries to stop their menstrual cycle (starving their dumb asses for dick) and making them pay a fee, these men will not shut the fuck up. I have never seen such men who think that they know more about the bodies of women than actual women.
These men tell women that childbirth is not dangerous although the United States leads in maternal deaths, more than any other Western country in the world. The same men who have not had a physical since high school and think that wiping their asses is “gay” so you know that they are not getting a prostrate gland exam on a yearly basis.
I have been truly trying to become a better person in my online social media interactions with misogynistic men because I know that they have been heavily indoctrinated through religion ideology to believe that they are smarter and superior than women and they are just lost souls but I need these fuckers to hush and stay in their lane. Worry about your own bodies which are falling apart due to being too stubborn, proud, and scared to see a doctor on a regular basis. Stop drinking so damn much after a certain age because it affects your sexual performance and may be a cause of erectile dysfunction. Worry about your own raggedy asses.
I have been trying to be nice but due to my current health issues as a woman, I am dragging arrogant, clueless men to hell and back anytime I see them commenting on women’s reproduction. You don’t have a vagina, uterus, ovaries or Fallopian tubes so you can’t say shit. Nothing. Nada. No Bueno. Learn to stop pissing all over the toilet and wipe your asses properly, you over coddled, clueless grown ass toddlers and remember that having a penis does not give men special, magical powers and a vast abundance of intelligence. Be humble ninnies.
According to the standards of American society, I am considered a middle aged, overweight Black woman. Which is the bottom of the barrel according to some. But I cannot tell because this fat, old, black woman has never been desperate for male companionship. Never had a problem getting a man; if anything, the problem was getting rid of the bastard when I got tired. However, it must be be a man shortage in inner cities throughout America with a large black populace because these chicks on Facebook, Twitter and other social media are desperate as fuck.
As a person who is on the social media daily, the antics of black women online desperate for male attention and validation is a sad sight indeed. These women shame other black women for receiving child support (because you are not supposed to bring a black man down. Fuck them kids. Let them starve), for wearing weave (You just want to be a white woman), for wearing your hair natural (You nappy headed bitch you), for being a single mother (You making us look bad and that’s why I can’t find a man), for not having children (Bitch you think you are better than us), for being fat (Go sit down fat bitch and eat some chicken), for having a nice body (Hoe bitch tramp). I mean the list goes on and on.
But I do understand why these women are so parched. We live in a system of patriarchy which conditions women to look at each other as competition. Especially in the black community where dick is God. And if you don’t have a dick in your life and you are a woman, you ain’t shit. A black woman can have a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, a juris doctor degree, and a PhD but unless she has a man attached to the crack of her ass, she is considered useless.
Yeah, these sisters be working real hard to get some dick on Facebook and social media platforms and the sad part is that it’s not working because desperation breeds contempt. The same men who call me everything but a child of God on Facebook threads be in my inbox trying to get their mack on. But that’s karma for that ass. You are out here shaming other black women for their personal choices in life just to get attention from men and your dumb asses still don’t have what you are searching for: dick. These chicks are still single and parched for the easiest commodity in the world: penis.
Often on the social media, when discussions about the dating game comes up and how it truly sucks to be an African American single woman in your forties, marginally attractive black men are quick to chime with “You need to choose better or expand your circle.” Negro please. A lot of these niggas ain’t worth two dead flies and what is so pathetic is that these men know that already because these two bit niggas are their friends. But these dudes spend their time trying to convince women that it is our fault for not choosing this fabled, little seen creature who is allegedly in abundance but we are too choosy and like thugs to find one: The Proverbial Good Black Man.
I have an eclectic mix of black lady friends on the social media who expand from California to New York. From London to Barbados and all these ladies are saying the same exact thing: it sucks to be a single black lady of any age but in particular for a woman of a certain age because of the social stigma that makes women in their forties crones before their time and because of the lack of quality black men in the dating world.
And it is not just on the social media where black women in their forties are complaining about the availability of black men in their age bracket that are financially solvent, emotionally stable and ready to commit to something as simple as a movie date but offline too. I have friends that I have known for years who are single and fed up with the games, the utter lack of accountability and have surrounded their hearts with a wall of stone.
Two years ago back in August, I got myself out of a long term relationship that was going nowhere because he irritated my soul and made my ass itch. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with him, let alone another month so I walked away with zero regrets. But like always, people do not like the idea of a black woman being single and free because a free woman is a dangerous bitch. So my best friend and my daughter suggested that I try online dating and see what happens.
I am very open-minded so I conducted some research and decided that OkCupid would be the best online dating service for me because for the most part, it’s free and I was not about to spend money that could be spent elsewhere on internet dating services. Shit, I have a child and makeup habit to support. And Lawd have mercy on my soul why I do that because I have met some characters on that bitch.
Let’s talk about the horny white men who fetishize black women sexually like the old ass Grandpappy that was in my inbox. Looked like a walking skeleton with hair. Old as Methuselah. Old as mummy dirt talking about how he likes “the sisters.” If you don’t go sit your old ass down somewhere Pop Granddaddy.
Or the cute ass white fella around my age who actually could hitch a word or two together and wrote a magnificent paragraph about my beauty, charm, blah, blah, blah but when we actually talked on the phone, told me I asked too many questions. I guess he thought I was going to be discussing how black women suck a better dick than white women. Like I wasn’t going to question a strange man I met online about his life.
And now the brothers oh my goodness. Those horn dogs. Constantly sending sexually explicit pictures and messages, trying to come over my house for a meal without offering to spend a dime on groceries. Never suggesting so much as a date to a coffee shop because they are some cheap bastards. Always trying to get some coochie and come up on a meal at the same time. Some basic motherfuckers.
But eventually through all this garbage, I eventually met two cuties but they wasn’t shit either because these men expected me to chase behind them. In this new world of dating, Black men consider themselves the prize and the women are supposed to chase behind them whether these men are blind, crippled, crazy and look like an old sock; they have dicks and women are automatically supposed to drop to their knees and worship the mic, literally and figuratively. These two men in particular never wanted to communicate with me via the phone except for texting and that shit irritated me. I am a relic from a forgotten era: a time in which men asked for your phone number, called you and you talked for hours, having mentally stimulating conversations about life, music politics and all kinds of deliciousness. Not today. These men didn’t want to talk to me on the phone; they just want to text and these fuckers couldn’t t even text properly. Misspelled words, sentence fragments and quick to ask for a nude picture, all kinds of foolishness from complete strangers.
So after all of this, I have taken myself out of the dating game for now because at 46, I do not have time for this bullshit. I will not be chasing complete strangers. I will not be deciphering text messages from grown ass men who should know how to spell. I will not be allowing strange men into my home around my 15-year old daughter because they are too cheap to take a woman on a date. But according to some black men and their band of thirsty Pick Me heifers, I just need to choose better or switch up my circle. Yeah right. To quote a beautiful sister from Facebook name Phoenix Renee, “BM over 40 are tired, emotionally bankrupt, and relationship illiterate and lazy. They’re right where we left them 20 years ago. Only now time (and in some cases, drugs/alcohol) is catching up. Too many didn’t do their “work” for decades and now we’re not settling. So now the cry is “no good women”?” Yeah right motherfuckers. How can single Generation X black women who want love and companionship form normal, functioning loving relationships with a group of emotionally stunted men who are intent on living a second adolescence? Men who refuse to be held accountable for anything? Who blame black women for everything? Naw bruhs it ain’t happening. So stop pushing this tired ass narrative about choosing better and admit that a large portion of your brethren ain’t shit.
So much about being a Black woman in America is denial. Denial of your womanhood because being Black is considered more important than being a woman. Denial of your sexuality because being chaste and pure is considered more important being sexually free. Denial of anything that will make the Black male gaze disappear although these men get on the Internet daily and declare to the world how little they respect any Black women, whether she is clothed from head to toe or buck ass naked. Miss. Priss or Hoeletha Jones. No in-betweens because we ain’t that complex and only come in hoe or nice girl.
But there are a group of women who live their lives proudly unaffected by the patriarchal poison that has permeated our culture. These women are considered outcasts, rebels, insubordinates, mutinous because they refused to be tamed. Often paying a high psychological cost for this freedom, these women are unrepentant and are tired of living in the shadows of a male dominant society. These wild women are coming out roaring and it is scaring the shit out of the respectable ones. They are the hood rats, the bust downs, the women of dubious reputation and their stories need to be told.
They are the women you see daily in inner-city neighborhoods throughout Black America. They are your neighbors, the women who bought a dish over after the death of a family member. The women who don’t have a problem with walking children to school not their own and picking them up. The women who did something strange for a little piece of change to help some bills. The women who don’t mind sharing her food stamps if it means another child will eat. Yes the Undesirables of The Black community. Scorned on a daily but they still manage to rise on a daily basis. Beautifully brown in shades of the deepest chocolate, caramel and vanilla latte. Full and voluptuous to willow slim. Powerful and rising. Phoenixes.
But it took a lot of pain for these women to get to this point of not giving a fuck about respectable Black folks and their opinions. To be able to find their voices in a culture in which Black women are continuously shouted down and silenced. They have literally stared into the fires of hell and managed to survive, dealing with issues of sexual child abuse and beatings, neglect, poverty, a piss poor educational system, and men who did everything in their power to spiritually destroy them.
How do I know all of this? Because these women are me and I am them. I have been called everything but a child of God in my existence on this planet and as Celie said in The Color Purple, “But dear God! I’m here! I’m here!” To tell my tale and encourage other women to find their voice. And I am not alone. Many women like me who have thrown off those chains and feel so free sometimes I cry. For those sisters still living in the shadows, it is okay to come out and shine. The chains that are enslaving you are not real; just a social construct. Find some joy and live your lives. Really live. Without fear of judgement. With love.