Sunday, May 30, 2010

It's All Effie's Fault..?!



First of all, I'd like to apologize for my absence in the last several days. Though this post will be brief, I will be back in full force eventually. You see, I've been living my life like a string of parabolas and the down part of the spiral included a trip-turned-unpaid-vacation down the highway to home(though not incredibly pleasurable). Experiencing a loss is something every person has to grow to experience and accept, and I had to turn on my ability to nurture in order to soothe my family's hurt. A huge pet peeve of mine, though, is people constantly questioning whether or not I'm okay; so dear readers, if any one is out there, I guarantee you that I am absolutely fine and I appreciate your thoughts of encouragement in advance.


I left the city to head home last Saturday morning after punching out at work in the morning, and I was hardly tired. As a matter of fact, I ended up staying at work an extra few (okaaaay, thirty) minutes to finish "The Banality of Heterosexism" before getting on the road. Unfortunately for me, my trek was filled with far too many stops (maybe I was tired, maybe I was bored), traffic, and a phone conversation with a former friend.


Somehow, throughout the conversation, the question of my current love life came to light. I'm not the type of person that delves into my personal life with too many people as it relates to my relationships and decision making, and sometimes less is more. Besides elaborating on my being single and content, I also spilled the beans on a rat guy I was seeing, and actually liking, who actually had a hundred couple other "girlfriends", all complete with the same nickname, other than me. I wasn't incredibly heartbroken, as I dumped him weeks before even realizing that he was just awful. That's right, even with the broken dates and bullshit excuses, there was still some inkling of what I thought was a combination of good person/shitty boyfriend left, and it was the most peaceful "I'm just gonna walk away" thing I had ever done.
...until it wasn't.


Yet, the ugly details aren't included and since they don't really matter, I only shared that the person that I very much liked at one point, and even more quickly bounced back from, turned out to be the very deserving object of my disgust.


The friend on the phone, a Black man himself, allowed me into the world of "how Black men think"; as he began to postulate, I rolled my eyes all the way down ninety five and even caught myself almost kicking my feet up on the dash and munching on popcorn.


The gospel according to him was as follows: since I am a plus sized lady, Black men think that I am easily controlled as a result of a lack of self esteem. Therefore, if I don't want to be treated like shit, I need to be a size two. Easy enough formula, right? As he expanded upon his theory, I did not find myself upset at his preachy "I know Black men as a Black man"-itudes; I giggled because I thought it to be one of the sillier things I had heard. His explanation for this was the "fact" that the only Black men I am to ever attract (by my own fault, no doubt) are looking for a woman that they can impose their views on; as a matter of fact, he even threw this little diddy in the mix: when a Black man dates a Black woman, she's the most shapely, finest goddess that he can find -- but when they go after white women (again, to impose upon), they're always "nasty looking". Yes, folks: it was all Effie's fault that Curtis dogged her


...word? Well, on top of this conversation being utterly random and disgustingly stitched together, I find a few faults with this logic:


1. That some Black men take offense to this idea that any Black man is or could ever be controlling (ergo, abusive) in one context, but will justify it in another.
2. That this one Black man speaks for the lot of Black men.
3. That I'll never have/have never had a "successful" relationship because of my appearance and not my other attributes.
4. That plus-sized = ugly, lowered self-esteem having wenches who are chosen by these men.
5. That aforementioned wenches never have a say in with whom they choose to enter relationships.
6. That skinny women do not have self esteem issues or relationship problems.
7. That non-"nasty looking" white women are not interested in or dating Black men.
8. That plus-sized women are of less value than average-to-skinny women.
9. That any one person is to blame for another party's actions.
10. That there are not men (or for argument's sake, women) who enjoy a little more..erm..fluff.


...and that is just to name a few. Now, I didn't take this as a personal attack because obviously, I think this is utter foolishness. Could I stand to drop a few lbs? Sure, but when I do, it isn't because I'm attempting to draw attention from another person. I don't think that I should even seem combative in saying that I date; I've documented a few dates on here on the blog and the people that I encounter are interesting enough. I don't think I should even have to harp on the fact that I'm satisfied with the person that I am/am becoming, and that my singlehood is by my own volition. Sure, we would all very much enjoy companionship, but having no anchor to anything right now (and being the personable anti-social that I tend to be), I can up and move away as I am currently contemplating any time the mood strikes. And honestly, I believe I'm always "fly" (actually a nickname given to me by an former boyfriend) and of all the attributes that might keep me single - Black power fueled with feminism, opinionated nature, inability to produce a successful joke, Billy-Bad-Assedness, heavy flow (read: straight-up-inappropriateness when I'm trying to tell a joke, ha!) - my appearance is the least of my concerns. Lastly, I don't think that I should have to elaborate on the fact that the way I am online - forward, opinionated, sometimes-bitchy (and even sometimes offending) - is exactly the way I am when I click "sign out" - which pretty much rules the no-confidence-and-lowered-self-esteem malarkey instantly. More than anything, this was all very amusing before I opted to hit him with the shrug-and-"I'mma let you finish"-move; I hung up and continued rolling down 95 as pleasantly as I began my journey.


I don't have control over another person's actions; that mickey-fickey decided for himself to cheat and go in the direction that he would - and he has total ownership of that. Other people's problems are...well, they're their problems.


Know that. Smile. Be Righteous.

1 comment:

  1. "Black women need to be a size 2 and a goddess to avoid their due punishment..."

    "Ya think?"

    "Yeah, but we got different standards for white women..."

    "Thanks for the warning. Nice weather today, huh?"

    ReplyDelete