Dear Black Men, Step It Up

Dear Black Men,

After spending my lifetime loving you, I have come to realize a few things about you.
You don’t want love.
You hate your blackness.
You hate your women.
You hate being a man.
I know many of you didn’t have a father to be proud of.
Therefore you have hated who you come from.
You took that anger out on your Mama, didn’t you?
You took that anger out on your Women, didn’t you?
You took that anger out on each other, didn’t you?
You took that anger out on your children, didn’t you?
But your father who abandoned, neglected, and abused you gets no beef?
The one you ended up turning out to be?
Sad, Bitter, Angry, Hopeless, Vengeful, Neglectful, Hateful, Spiteful, Unforgiving, Selfish, Playful, and Merciless.
But I won’t turn into you.
I won’t call myself a hoe, because you only wanted to fuck, and couldn’t recognize my, “Yes” was LOVE.
I won’t call myself a bitch, because I speak up for myself when you disrespect me.
Or play games with me.
Or when I won’t tolerate your bullshit.
I won’t stay silent when your hurting me.
I won’t serve you, when you ignore me.
I won’t bow down when you want to dominate me.
I won’t run scared when you charge at me.
I won’t call you nigga when you act ignorant.
I won’t run away when you push me.
See, My Mama taught me to love that skin I’m in.
And by that I’m bound to you.
But I won’t bow to your self-hate.
The epitome of loving your blackness is loving the womb from which you came, and loving the womb of which bear your children, and loving the womb of every woman you encounter.
Are you trying to kill us?
Are you trying to take our power?
We never used it against you.
We never used it to rule you.
We only used it to love you.
Hopefully one day you see it, when you think back on all the women who loved you when you were unlovable.
When you think back on the women who celebrated even the smallest of achievements.
When you think back on the women who praised you, even when you were tearing her down or breaking her down with your revenge.
When you think of every woman that cooked for you, cleaned for you, sexed you, stood up for you.
When you think of every woman who marched for your rights to be seen as a man just like the white man.
When you think of every woman who tried to heal you, when you tried to break her.
When you think of every woman that cried for you, or over you, or because of you.
When you think of every woman that forgave you for your lies, your cheating, your abuse, and your games.
And to the ones who didn’t do this or tolerate this, they were your teachers, and them loving themselves is not hating you.
Now it’s time for us to rise.
I know some will not answer the call.
But to those who rise, THANK YOU.
We need you.
Our children needs you.
Your communities need you.
Your families need you.
This nation needs you.
And we believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourselves.
This is my gift to you.
I don’t get paid for this.
This is my Love.
This is the Love of a Black Woman.
Can you handle it?

Unapologetically Tanisha.

Photo Source: Los Angeles Times

© Tanisha R. Coleman, 2022. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tanisha R. Coleman with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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