Black Women, Popeyes Chicken, and Several Servings of Disrespect!
Did I miss the official memo announcing open season on publicly embarrassing young Black women? Hasn’t the summer of 2022 been hot enough without adding extra heat to their already tumultuous lives? By now, everyone has seen or heard of the Instagram post, of a man stating his partner wasn’t the most beautiful or most intelligent woman in his proposal of marriage, which unleashed a conflagration of comments across multiple platforms. With barely enough time between stories, to sufficiently fan ourselves, another social media firestorm has erupted. With its shady headline of fried chicken, an overly eager Black woman proposing to a churlish divorced man, ten years her senior, the New York Times’s wedding feature is the latest story.
The couple is of Caribbean heritage, and the man is of Bajan ethnicity like me. His off-hand remarks about having five other women in rotation (my words), while simultaneously dating his now wife, although seemingly braggadocious, we could’ve been spared that information. The pair’s overall propensity for unadulterated candor regarding how they met and the intricacies of how their relationship subsequently unfolded left me gasping.
We, Caribbean people (or West Indians if you prefer), are taught from childhood “you don’t air you business in public? We learn “nuff” ways to sidestep intrusive questions. We craftily avoid saying things that might land us in trouble or cause ridicule. We’ve honed rudeness and the side eye as defensive tools. Therefore I wondered if Ms. Wade and Mr. Boyce’s wholesale immersion in the American educational system and “culture” had diminished their innate Caribbean instincts for privacy and self-protection.
At first, I took umbrage with the Times for what I regarded as a headline steeped in prejudice for its use of fried chicken as a signifier in two Black people’s romance. I scanned the story for other tropes, maybe a slice of watermelon. Then I adjusted my stance. These people had been willing participants. They had provided the reporter with the ingredients for this unpalatable mess of an article. The young woman is a millennial. She’s an attractive young woman. I was told her friends on Twitter spoke to her dynamism and awesomeness. So, why had this young woman pursued a man who had initially “blown her off” twice before? Why was she so eager to have him move in with her after 6 months? How could she stomach his blistering retort: “I was like what are you talking about? I barely know you.”
Since we’ve been socialized to believe in dichotomous roles for males and females, most people order their relationships accordingly, with few exceptions. Comments posted on online forums disparaged Ms. Wade for seemingly proposing to herself. She was depicted as the poster child for desperate women whose desire for a man outstrips their love for themselves. Mr. Boyce on the other hand, in a caption on social media, bragged “no pressure to take her on any fancy dates or to expensive restaurants…just good ole conversations and alignment with our goals.” I guess in manspeak, he considered himself the prize, so he barely had to woo her.
When one considers the other man whose statements highlighted his partner’s lack of beauty and intelligence, there seems to be an ongoing theme among these types of men. They actually perceive themselves as heroes or even martyrs for marrying women who they find below ‘their” standards. And I am left wondering if embarrassing unambiguous Black woman is now a bona fide trend. Are these sadistic men seeking notoriety? And why are the women seemingly unbothered by these public pronouncements? I’m sure the two men in question have not revealed all of their secrets.
Frequently, I have a reoccurring dialogue with myself. At times I extend it to my contemporaries, and even to younger women, like my daughter. I am consistently amazed by some Black women’s tolerance for emotional and psychological pain. Who has sold some women the notion that love must hurt, and that a relationship must be fraught with struggle and messiness? Who told them they don’t deserve ease and adoration? Whenever I see women my age cataloging their mistreatment by men or sharing their encounters with narcissists, I quickly scroll past them. By now we should all be proficient in detecting these subspecies of human beings.
However, when it comes to millennials, their desire to have it all and their checklist mentality come at a cost. They seem to have a life plan that they cannot deviate from. They obtain their graduate degrees, professional careers, a storybook wedding, homes, cars, children, vacations, and a plan to retire before 50. Any deviation from the above is perceived as an epic failure. There is pressure to achieve and post online as they go, so the world and their peers can see them winning. Most millennials have bought into the mythic American Dream without quite realizing that it’s a marketing campaign for a consumer economy. One of the major components of this false paradigm for Black women is to be married to a Black man.
Several years ago, I was in a relationship, and one day during a conversation, the man said in an off-handed manner that he was not sexually attracted to me, that he was more intrigued by my intelligence. Now, as far back as I could recall, being dark-skinned, short-haired, or dreadlocked had never diminished my appeal to the various men I encountered. In my heyday of the ’80s, looking like a full-breasted Mariam Makeba and moving through life to the internal rhythm of She’s a Brick House, there had never been any qualms about my desirability. And even as middle-aged approached, I still felt as a younger friend recently remarked, “I could still pull someone”. Vanity? Maybe.
I wasn’t angry with my ex. There had been times when I, too, had not been physically attracted to a man, and pretense had not been a viable option. He said he would try harder, but Beres’ advice was apropos, “…If your heart’s not in it, let it go…stop wasting time don’t fool yourself it won’t grow…” I took the metaphorical hit on the chin, regained my equilibrium, and got on with living (sans him). Unfortunately, some of our young women seem to disregard even the most obvious insults and acts of disrespect. So committed are they to have a man, they remain with one who states empathetically or tacitly she’s not his ideal.
Growing up in Barbados, in my village there seemed to be an ad hoc group of elders (albeit nosy neighbors) who made it their business to intervene in matters of courtship and marriage. As a matter of course, old folks traced the lineage of the couple, identifying the young man’s ancestors, and his social pedigree. The same scrutiny was carried out on the girl’s background. Those hasty pairings who did not heed the warnings of the old people lived to rue the day. I’ve witnessed the stoic men with their demure wives and the common-law marriages with the gallivanting ladies’ men and creeping women. My grandmother, a woman of few words, would sagely say: “Never be a dog for a dog,” to the woman enduring abuse. Observing the transgressions of a woman facing the terror of loneliness, she would caution the impracticality of: “Instead of none, any.” Those days are long gone. Hinge, OkCupid, Bumble, and Tinder leave us to our own devices. We can swipe and chat and meet up at our discretion.
Back in those days, Mr. Boyce would’ve been admonished to “man behave yuh self! ” or “stop actin’ like a poppet!” I see where Ms. Wade could’ve gained greatly from that old-fashioned social network that would’ve warned: “Takin’ yuh time ain’t laziness”. Esther Perel, the author of “Mating in Captivity” contends that one of the flaws of modern relationships is that we lack community and relationships with friends and others outside of our lovers to bridge the gaps that we and our partners can’t humanly straddle.
Without getting into the historical reasons for the dearth of eligible Black men in the United States, and those seemingly unwilling, in my opinion, to marry unambiguous Black women without spectacle; I believe more Black women must shift their gaze from local Black men to look at men around the globe. As many Black men seem to have set their sights on partners who bear no resemblance to their mothers, then Black women may need to exercise this option as well. The majority of the world consists of people of color. And yes, these nations have their share of hierarchical structures based on color, but color prejudice exists in every land Europeans colonized and in the Black Diaspora.
One of my favorite literary heroines, Jane Eyre, knew that her poverty and lack of physical beauty were liabilities in 19th century England. Yet, with her only resource, her intellect, to bargain with, she admonished the man she loved, “Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless?… And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!” She was well aware of her supposed “shortcomings” but never forfeited her self-respect. She was comfortable being alone. Everyone deserves to be in a loving, committed relationship based on mutual respect and trust. But as Nina Simone sings, so poignantly: “you’ve got to learn…to leave the table, when love’s no longer being served… sometimes your head must rule your heart…”
