I could join you picket line…but I won’t because part of the blame, well most of it was my doing,
for I chose to give men who I knew were not interest in me a chance.
I knew that the guys I LIKED didn’t really like me,
but I hadn’t any concrete “evidence” to substantiate my suspicions, yet and still, the situations
that by the grace of God revealed the truth, I dismissed the truth anyway.
I didn’t want to admit the truth because that would mean that in my mind,
I was acknowledging that I wasn’t good enough.
And what’s the best way to relieve the mind of anxiety and depression: distraction!
Men pretended with me and I pretended right along with them, hoping that “proving value” by “selling myself” to an
*unmotivated buyer to begin with would somehow turn things around for me…
This what you do too.
You pretend you don’t see what you see.
You even pretend to be confused, but you know.
You ALWAYS know, the problem is that you do not trust in what you know because you
cannot differentiate your true self from the pretense you’ve created to get along with others.
Most of the time it was just a “feeling” though. In the mist of a conversation,
his mind does not seem fully engaged, and if a woman walked by that he liked,
he took the liberty to take a long and quite substantial look,
not feeling instinctively compelled to respectfully conceal his arousal from you.
There were other times when dates would be cancelled at the last minute
but then he’d show up at midnight to my door claiming to “miss me”,
I knew that he lied but I let him in because I wanted to feel wanted: truth be damned!
Then there were those times when holidays came around and gifts didn’t come neither the presence of his body,
probably because he was too busy stocking stuffing at “homes” of women who’s company he valued more.
And it was no buggy in my mind because
I bought my daughter all the gifts on her list which allowed me to a distraction from my feelings of inadequacy from being unwanted…
So now here you are, running from your acute ability to make poor decisions
by seeking refuge in the arms of men who do not share your genetic makeup.
You are fascinated with the “novelty” of it all. You get to even be “blacker” with him than you are
with your own brothers as you show and tell stories about what means to be a black woman in America.
And all well until you notice that he likes you a bit too much,
almost like you are trinket or an object of a fetish he has for black fresh.
And here you were thinking he is crazy about you…
Yeah he is krazy* about you…
You dismiss it though, still on somewhat of a high that a
man from another race considers you as beautiful.
But the truth is that you are that same woman who made agreements with men whom,
you knew were not to be trusted, not to be fucced, not to be husband or a father to your children.
Moving to another race doesn’t remove how your process and filter out your world and more importantly what you think of yourself.
You cannot run from you.
The respect and love that you desire comes when you become intimate with YOU.
It will come from black men when you have a love for your wellbeing that cannot be bought or bargained with.
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