shadowboxing on a wednesday night

I used to get into debates with a lesbian DJ friend about why men are such pussies. Naturally she was debating on the side of men being inferior to women, which most people on this planet already know. Duh! I mean let’s look at childbirth. That’s all the argument you really need, right? I, on the other hand, was determined to prove that you cannot compare the sexes in that manner. From birth, women are taught to embrace their emotions as an internal compass to guide them through life. As a woman, you are supposed to know in your heart what the right thing to do is. As a mother, you are expected to intuitively know when your child needs you whether or not you can see or hear them. We comfort, care for and support people. Men are taught how to fight, play sports, make money and ignore their feelings. That’s it.

If you want to compare a man to a woman, you have to take them from a level playing field – a healthy well-adjusted man vs. a healthy well-adjusted woman. In that case, I’d say they’re pretty even. Although they can’t give birth, I know single fathers who do a great job of raising their kids (even daughters) and are upstanding member of the community, caring, kind and succesful. I don't think there is any question about the cookie cutter success stories: either male or female. They've got their act together. It's no fun talking smack about them because we're in no position to do so. Done.


Let’s look at these jellyfish men that [let's call her Macho] refers to. They have discovered that this is a world of nonsense where no one can shoot from the hip and you have to tiptoe around every topic of conversation. The poor guys can’t even open their mouths without someone telling them that they’ve said something insensitive. After years of being taught not to feel anything, they are now asked to be emotionally intelligent. Well, guess what? When the flood gates open to their suppressed emotions, they’re at a bit of a loss on how to deal with it. I hear this shit all the time. The worst is when some big burly guy turns into a baby. It’s just sad. I can’t stand to see a grown man cry. It makes me feel terrible.


I often find myself feeling especially bad for black men because the majority of them make less than their mates (there's a slew of borderline controversial theories about why that is), so they have to take on more responsibilities at home and they by far have gotten stuck with the shortest end of the emotional intelligence stick. Most of the straight guys I talk to about how they feel, dealing with emotions and bridging the communication gap between the sexes are not black. Most of the black men I talk to about those things are gay – and straight black men generally don’t hang out with gay black men (although they could really learn a thing or two from them about how to relate to women). I want to say that it’s not their fault. However, ignorance is not an excuse. I have been taught that lesson many times (and I’ll probably be put in my place over and over again with that very same one). I find myself being drawn to this kind of man – the black jellyfish (or in most cases more of a sea urchin, with all of the scary armor on the outside and the squishy goo inside) because I feel like he has so many redeeming qualities that are going to waste. Also, as a black woman, I feel intensely compelled to elevate how my race is represented in society by creating a healthy, loving and supportive relationship with a black man. There, I said it! I guarantee that most black women feel the same way. That's one of those things that we rarely or never say (even to each other), but we all know in our guts. Insert BIG SIGH here. Nurturer that I am, I always think, ‘if I just give this seed a chance it will grow into a beautiful flower.’ Maybe I’m just a romantic that way – a Princess looking for a toad. In the end, I just get fed up. That race elevation mumbo jumbo doesn't comfort me when I'm dealing with the trifling bullshit.


Aren't we all just works in progress? It’s just a matter of meeting someone who compliments me, not someone who needs me. Am I emotionally intelligent enough to know the difference?