Sunday, December 27, 2009
I knew a man; this man was an interesting man. He told me he grew up in Queens, NY. I met him sitting with a group of friends having drinks. Being a lightweight and knowing I had to drive, I tried my best to just sip. He was staying at a hotel not to far away from the bar.
This man was not the most attractive man but to say the least, he was an interesting one. What caught my attention was him telling me he would never date, marry or take a Black girl seriously. Being a “Black girl” I just looked at him. Was I sipping too fast? I asked him why and he talked about his childhood. His mother. What I took away from the conversation was his mother pushing him and his brothers too hard. His sister (the only girl) ended up pregnant and his mother had to help raise his niece.
I sat there, sipping and wondering when this man was going to explain his reasons for staying away from the sistas. He never did. He finished saying his mother was especially hard on his father. So hard that his father left because he couldn’t take the pushiness and neediness of his mother. (His words not mine) His mother became bitter and his baby sister was also bitter. The two of them never did anything to uplift the men in their lives. They just complained and screamed.
He met his wife on a business trip. He showed me a picture of her. Blue eyes, blond hair, skin as soft and snowflake like, just beautiful. I complemented her and he rolled his eyes at me. He told me she was there for him, she never stressed him or pushed him like his mother did. When he came home, he came home to a quiet home. He was never bombarded by questions from a woman, instead greeted with kindness. When he went to bed, he felt successful, there was no one pushing him.
I took this all in and tried not to be judgmental. I kept quiet since he rolled his eyes at me. I needed to get home and told him goodnight. He asked if he could walk me to my car. I didn’t mind. When I got to my car he said he enjoyed talking to me. I winked and smiled. The less I said, the more I felt his thoughts go crazy.
When I got home, I was greeted my husband, “sup gorgeous.” As I got ready for bed I asked him if I was ever too hard on him. He said, “When you are stressed, but I can take it cause I’m a man.” My stress pushes him in a negative way. He explained that I get very independent when things get rough on me. My aggravation puts him in an uncomfortable place because his roll is supposed to provide. I push him into a place where he’s challenged even more because I’m not supportive and my attitude comes off as blame. Is this what this other man went through? Did he go through that kind of push? I thought all women did that maybe I was wrong?
I wished I could have changed the other guys mind. In order for me to do that, it would mean I’d have to change his past. My husband said he doesn’t think this guy hates all black women because he was nice enough to walk me to my car and speak to me. “Don’t take it personally,” he snuggled underneath me. How can I not? The numbers are stacked against “Black girls” and if a Black man tells me we are too hard I have to wonder. Are we too hard?