The Potty Mouth Granny

An Ode to Some Childhood Buddies – Barbie Doll and Friends

When I went to college, one of the first classes I took was Women and Gender Studies. How could I not resist learning about the history of women since I am a woman? My professor was named Dr. Jean Peterson and she was a cool hippie chick from back in the day, complete with graying jet-black hair to her waist and she was so laid back she was practically horizontal. However, a couple of weeks in her class, I was dismayed to find out she was not a fan of Barbie Dolls because she, as a feminist felt they contributed to low self-esteem issues in young girls in American society.

I was totally amazed by her attitude because I loved and still love Barbie and not once when I was a child thought I would look like Barbie when I grew up. Because cause she was a doll and how could I possibly look like a doll? She wasn’t real. Even at that young age, I had more sense than that. I have been a prolific reader since I was a child and Barbie and friends were props for my overactive imagination. When I was into Greek mythology, my dolls were transformed into Athena, Artemis, and Aphrodite and several of my mother’s silky nightgowns were turned into Greek robes for them. When I read “Gone With the Wind” (at the age of ten), I learned to make hoop skirts for my dolls and reenacted the burning of Atlanta without actually setting the house on fire.

But Dr. Peterson had her reasons. During the course of the class, I learned why Dr. Peterson had issues with Barbie (sexism and the branding of the skinny white chick with impossibly unattainable body) and although I respected her opinion a great deal and she had a PhD and several other degrees, to me, blaming a doll for self-esteem issues in young girls and women was a little too much. I blame parents and society for making young girls and women feel bad because they do not live up to the womanly image that American society has memorialized as the epitome of beauty. Every woman is not slim or tall with blue eyes and long flowing blond hair and guess what? Who gives a fuck? It is hard enough being a woman in a sexist society without driving yourself crazy trying to be something that you are not. A woman has to be happy and secure in her own skin to be truly complete. But I will always love Barbie, Christie, Skipper, Starr, Kelly, Candi, Darci, Sydney and all my girls from childhood. They kept a little girl’s imagination flowing and I will forever thankful to my favorite Plastics.

Memories

In the months since my brother’s death, my emotions have been a kaleidoscope, ranging from the deepest of grief to fear. My mother gave birth to three children and I am the only one left. That’s real deep isn’t it? I have no one to grieve with: most people don’t know how to deal with emotions, particularly the emotions that come with death and at times, I have felt so alone. Even with being a mother who has children living in her house.

Back in December, I learned that my brother was missing. Then he was in the hospital and then put in a nursing home. In January, I learned that he was dying and on February 10, 2020, he crossed over. Just like that. That quickly, that quietly, and with that, my brother became an ancestor.

Randy, my second oldest brother died February 7, 1994 and February 10, 2020, Larry died. Our mother died back in December of 2006 and now it’s just me. Notice I did not mention a father and I will not. At this point, it doesn’t matter but many would disagree.

My little family is gone and all I have is memories and pictures. Like the time Larry came over drunk and rowdy and my mother and I beat his ass. Or the time Randy had some Sea-Monkeys and I poured a cup of sugar in the fish bowl to see what would happened (they died naturally and he was mad as hell). Or memories of going to work with my mother during school breaks. Memories that have made an indention on my brain that I cling to. The memories that keep my people alive in spirit if not in body.

Currently, the world is experiencing a pandemic and for 2 ½ months, Chicago was under quarantine. During that time, I had nothing to do but think and grieve. And that it is what I am currently doing now and will continue to do so. Only a demon will pretend to be blowing sunshine out of their asses when deep down in their heart, they are hurting and I’m not a demon. Will I be showing my entire ass, no, but if you see me lost in thought, smiling or teary eyed, I am thinking about my people.

Grief – In Loving Memory of Larry Allen and Trena Rule

Several years ago, I read the autobiography of Ava Gardner, an actress from the Golden Era of Hollywood and a really cool ass lady. I can’t remember right off hand the exact quote but in one of the earlier chapters, she discussed the death of her mother who died of uterine cancer and she said “You can get over a lot of things. Love, broken relationships but grief last forever.” “And lord she was telling the truth.

Because the grief of losing someone to death that you loved will never go away. You will learn to cope but you will never get over the lost. I don’t give care about how many grief books or articles you read. It doesn’t matter how many well meaning twits, I mean friends and relatives give you advice on how to deal with your grief, you will be dealing with grief for the rest of your life.

Are you supposed to dwell in your grief and waste away? No but it is not healthy to pretend that you are not devastated by the death of a loved one. In American culture, people are supposed to pretend that they are not bothered by death. That death is a natural part of life and that you should be happy that your loved one is no longer suffering and not of this world. And while that sounds good in perspective, no one is happy to lose someone to death that they loved. In the past two months, I have lost my brother and a woman that I loved like a sister. With the death of my brother was the end of my childhood family, the people that I had formed my earliest childhood memories with. At one time, it was myself, my mother and my brothers and now it is just me and that has been a bitter pill to swallow. I have come to the realization that I won’t get over it and that is okay.

And with the death of my friend was the lost of a friendship that meant so much to me. A woman I had known since 1992, who I lived with and who had welcomed me into her home with no hesitation. I cannot believe that I will never see my friend or hear her voice again. We were supposed to be old ladies with canes, cussing people out, telling them to get off our porches, but it wasn’t meant to be. And I know now that I won’t get over her death either and it is cool and normal to feel this way.

So for those who are grieving, whether you have been grieving for a day or for over 40 years, do not let anyone shame about how you decide to grieve. If necessary, tell those busybodies to kiss your ass and keep moving on with your life. You do not own an explanation to anyone on this planet about shit. Nothing. Nada. No Buenos. Just wipe away your tears and continue to remember your people. The longer we keep the dead alive, the better it is because they live forever in our hearts.

Ghetto Nation 2019

Ghetto – A section of a city to which an entire ethnic or economically depressed group is is restricted; as by poverty or social pressure.

Life for Blacks who reside in the inner-city has never been easy but in the years since crack cocaine hit, things have most definitely taken a turn for the worst. A new breed of Black womanhood and manhood has arisen and they behave rather badly. It has become absolutely normal to be ignorant and ghetto and more scarily, this behavior is celebrated with glee.

Take a stroll in any inner-city neighborhood and on any given afternoon, you will see groups of able-bodied young men lounging carelessly on street corners, smoking marijuana boldly on street corners bragging about their bitches, whores and baby mommas. And although these young men show clear shiftless tendencies, throngs of ride or die chicks, sometimes with several children in tow surround them, taking loudly while dressed in pajama bottoms and dingy white wife-beaters complete with the proverbial head scarf.

These words are not stereotypes but actual truth. Too many times, Blacks complain about their dirty laundry being aired publicly instead of fixing the problem and it is time to discuss an issue that is plaguing us as a people: the acceptance of ignorance. Although racism is, has been, and will always be a part of American society, social behaviors once deemed deviant are embraced and accepted by some Blacks.

Urban terrorists have hijacked urban communities throughout America, but calling the police is considered “snitching” and murderers walk around unafraid and unrepentant. Mothers hide the guns of their gang-banging sons and little children are left at home unattended with an empty refrigerator while their parents party in the streets. There are so many examples of this behavior that I could go and on but that would be redundant. However, one thing rings true, regardless if some folks do not want to face it: gutter, hood-related anti-social behavior is running amok in some Black communities.

Where did it all go so terribly wrong? The decline of the inner-city Black family can be traced to the crack cocaine era. Black families throughout America were decimated due to drug abuse and drug dealing and the children became collateral damages. An entire generation of Black children have grown up seeing their parents either use or sell drugs and it has destroyed their psyche.

For these young adults, the only thing worth living for is the mass consumption of expensive designer clothing, alcohol, drugs and sexual escapades with multiple partners. They have no goals or ambitions but to live for the day. An education is scorned as being nothing more than a worthless piece of paper and disputes are settled by gunfire, regardless of who is around.

The blame for this generation of inner-city hoodrats can be laid at the feet of Black Generation X, my generation. Blacks born between 1965 and 1976 were the first recipients of the gains that the Civil Rights Movement had battled for and we squandered it by getting caught up in the “Greed is Good” era of the Eighties. We ran the streets instead of taking care of our children, shoving the responsibility of childrearing on our weary, overworked parents. We were more concerned about outer appearances, spending money on shiny things instead of saving money for better educational opportunities and now our children still lag behind every ethnic group when it comes to reading, writing, and arithmetic. Instead of being parents to our children, we became their friends, smoking blunts with them and allowing their boyfriends and girlfriends overnight privileges, creating the next generation of confused, angry children.

We planted the seeds for mass destruction and now we have a garden full of weeds. It saddens me to write this but it is my opinion that little can be done to correct this hood-related behavior. These days, you cannot tell anyone anything bad about their children because it might cause a physical confrontation. The US government could put trillions of dollars into every inner-city in America but this ghetto mentality will still exist because being absolutely nothing is accepted. An entire generation of Black young adults have accepted their caste in society as the lowest of the low, trapped by the narrow confines of their minds and neighborhoods.

Gender Inequality in Sub Saharan Africa

inequality has maintained the suppression of women worldwide and unfortunately has impacted Sub-Saharan Africa with the greatest magnitude. Everyday in these countries are countless occurrences of physical, emotional, and psychological abuse that must be acknowledged as a primary concern for governments across the world. A prime example of gender inequality is the use of rape as a weapon of war. For women in Darfur, it is a permanent scar of war; a painful reminder which will never go away. Girls as young as eight will never sleep well again or be able to have a normal relationship with a man because of this issue. There are many ways to commit murder, and for these women and girls, they may as well be dead.

Since the early 2000s, the Islamist government in Khartoum, Sudan has given the Janjaweed militia a free hand in putting down a rebellion by Black African tribes in the region and as a result of the conflict, some one million people have fled their homes and 50,000 people have been killed. Women, girls, and babies have been raped with impunity because the Sudanese government will not lift a finger to help these victims because according to them, no one has been raped. Most importantly, they are women and women are unworthy of notice.

However, according to Amnesty International, violence against women is occurring in a context of systematic human rights violations against civilians in Darfur. The grave violations of international human rights and humanitarian law committed by the Janjaweed and the Sudanese army against civilians have targeted men, women and children indiscriminately. Women have been summarily or indiscriminately killed, bombed, raped, tortured, abducted and forcibly displaced. Children have been summarily or indiscriminately killed, tortured, abducted and forcibly displaced; girls have, like women, been the particular target of rapes, abductions and sexual slavery.

Rape victims in Sudan are stigmatized because according to their culture, they are to blame for their attack. Along with health and tribal ramifications, there are also governmental consequences for the victims. Most victims are too afraid to report attacks because it is very hard for the government to hear a rape case. For a woman to prove rape under Sudanese law, she needs four male witnesses; a task which is essentially impossible. In his book Darfur: The Ambiguous Genocide, Gerard Prunier describes the ways women and girls are discriminated against if they admit to being raped. If a single woman is found to be a victim of rape, (or have had sex in the eyes of the government,) she would be sentenced to 100 lashes. If the same were found out about for a married women she would sentenced to be stoned to death. The government has imprisoned pregnant rape victims for adultery. (60-62)

Rape as a weapon of war has been going on for too long in long in Darfur and the end does not seem to be anytime soon. Rape is a universal fear of women all around the world. Women in Darfur are afraid to walk in daylight with other people to look for food and water because they can be snatched, beaten, and raped with a gun. Women and girls are now as likely to be assaulted in periods of calm as during attacks on their villages and towns. Young girls in America wish for tickets to the latest Hannah Montana concert or an iPod, whereas young girls in Darfur wish for security from their own government as they walk miles to search for water. The Sudanese government has said it is committed to stopping the sexual violence, but in practice, little or nothing is being done.

Another example of gender inequality in Sub-Saharan Africa is fistula and young African girls. What is a fistula? According to fistulafoundation.org, fistula is a hole between a woman’s birth passage and one or more of her internal organs. This hole develops over many days of obstructed labor, when the pressure of the baby’s head against the mother’s pelvis cuts off blood supply to delicate tissues in the region. The dead tissue falls away and the woman is left with a hole between her vagina and her bladder (called a vesicovaginal fistula or VVF) and sometimes between her vagina and rectum (rectovaginal fistula, RVF). This hole results in permanent incontinence of urine and/or feces. Women who develop fistulas are often abandoned by their husbands, rejected by their communities, and forced to live an isolated existence (http://www.fistulafoundation.org/aboutfistula/faqs.html). Fistula is also the ultimate symbol of childbirth gone wrong because of poor health care access and the high prevalence of men marrying under-age girls in Sub-Saharan Africa.

In a land where boys are more valued than girls, girls are viewed as nothing more than as bargaining tools for their fathers who covet fat dowries. Their mothers are powerless to intervene and as a result many African girls have been sold into marriage to men old enough to be their grandfathers. At the age of twelve, most little girls bodies are not ready for childbirth and an obstructed labor combined with the narrow hips of child will lead to many occurrences of fistula in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Prevention comes in the form of access to obstetrical care, support from trained health care professionals throughout pregnancy, providing access to family planning, promoting the practice of spacing between births, supporting women in education and most importantly, postponing early marriage (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Obstetric_fistula).

The last example of gender inequality in Sub-Saharan Africa is female genital mutilation. The practice of female genital mutilation, also known as female circumcision, occurs throughout the world, but it is most common in Africa. Female genital mutilation is a tradition and social custom to keep a young girl pure and a married woman faithful. In Sub-Saharan Africa it is practiced in the majority of the continent including Kenya, Nigeria, Mali, Upper Volta, Ivory Coast, Egypt, Mozambique and Sudan. It is a cross-cultural and cross-religious ritual, which is performed by Muslims, Coptic Christians, Protestants, Catholics and members of various indigenous groups (Skaine 15).

Female genital mutilation is usually performed on girls before they reach puberty. It is a procedure where either part or the entire clitoris is surgically removed leaving a reduced or total lack of sexual feeling. This procedure is an attempt to reduce the sex drive of women, making them less likely to be sexually active before marriage or engage in extra-marital affairs. Over eighty million women and girls are living with or somehow affected by female genital mutilation (World Medical Association), but as the world moves forward into an age of women’s rights and global responsibility, it is time to take a stand against this ruthless violation of human rights.

The female is operated on while in a sitting position or lying on her back with her thighs being held apart. The operator uses a cutting instrument, a collection of thorns for suturing the wound, and a powder mixture of sugar, gum, and other herbs, ashes or pulverized animal manure, which is later applied to control excessive hemorrhaging. The child is in so much pain that some have actually bitten their tongues off. If the child faints, powder is blown up her nose to revive her. When the operation is completed, usually within fifteen minutes, the wound is closed and the women present are allowed to inspect the wound to ensure that the procedure was properly completed. Finally, the girl is sutured and the powder mixture is applied. The girl must then remain immobilized for up to three weeks in order to heal properly (Skaine 25).

This practice is both sexist and invasive. The genitals of young boys are not operated on crudely to keep them pure so why should young girls have to submit themselves to such a painful and humiliating act? Because they are females and total control of a woman’s life must be achieved, even at the expense of her mental and physical health.

These are some of the many gender issues that plague the lives of women who reside in Sub-Saharan Africa. These issues must be eradicated in order for African women have total control over their lives, a control that women in the West take for granted. In Sub-Saharan Africa, women have little or no rights. This affects what they can do for work, how their family life is, and what future they have. Until the world’s governments decide to take a stand on these issues, little or nothing will be done to help these women.

Memories of Things Past

school picture

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. karter

Ten Ways to Found Out if You Are a Brainwashed Negro

Brainwashed Negro: A Black individual who has internalized every negative stereotype about Blacks and their culture and is seething with self-hatred and low self-esteem. Usually believes that the only path to success and true happiness is to marry or assimilate into White culture, hoping to escape the sins of blackness.

One of the biggest problems in the Black community is a lack of unity caused by years of self-hatred. Self-hatred in the Black community is due to centuries of brainwashing by the dominant culture into believing that Blacks and their contributions to mainstream society are worthless and that Blacks themselves are worthless and ugly. Self-hatred has caused some Black folks to demean themselves and other Blacks in many hurtful ways that are not productive to anyone. Here are 10 ways to find out if you as a Black person have been brainwashed by the dominant culture:

uncle-ruckus-prayer 10. If you are still running around claiming that your family has “Indian Blood”, particularly, Cherokee. I wonder why the only Native American tribe some Black folks can name is Cherokee, as if Iroquois, Mohicans, Seminoles and others do not exist.

9, If you believe that all Black NBA players are married to White women. 86% of married African American NBA players are married to Black women.

8. If you deny the African within by stating that your descendants are from the Caribbean. How in the hell did you think all those Black folks ended up on those islands?

7. If you believe that all White people are rich, beautiful, educated and are endowed with special magical powers.

6. If you tell a dark-skinned Black woman, “You are so pretty to be dark”.

5. If you give an automatic pretty pass to light-skinned women just because they are light-skinned and have long hair.

4. If you refuse to frequent Black-owned businesses because you believe that their services are sub-par as compared to White-owned businesses.

3. If you believe that “Good Hair” consists of hair that is long, flowing and silky, not kinky.

2. If you believe that it’s perfectly okay for other races to demean Black people by dressing in Blackface or if you are completely silent when other races demean black culture because you are so worried about losing your spot as the Anointed Negro and want some of that magical White fairy dust to sprinkle on your trifling ass.

1. If you make statements such as “Black women have too many problems” or “I cannot find a Black man that is on my level” to justify dating outside your race. There is nothing wrong with interracial dating unless you are using it as a way to escape the deep psychological problems of hatred for one’s race. Perhaps the problem is not Black people collectively but YOU personally and all YOUR issues and burdens of being Black in America.

Dear Men: Stay The Fuck Out of Women’s Wombs

a63f4623eda816a57e0de56b167a5168--offensive-shirts-t-shirt-slogans

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.

Desperate Heifers or When Being a Basic Chick Goes Terribly Wrong

IMG_2893 (2) 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.

viola-davis

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), 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.

Sex and the Single Lady Generation X African American Style

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.