Thursday, July 30, 2009

Why Us Black Women" Whores" Hate You!

This letter was sent to me from a young lady" Soncerae " from Atlanta, who read my classic on black females it upset her to the point she sat down and wrote a reply. true to my word the entire letter is posted the title was hers, I agreed not to change it as well as placeing her photo / web site Again I said if any female has a problem with what I write / say send me a reply and I will post it here with that here is what she wrote:
What you are about to read are the words of an “ANGRY BLACK BITCH” (For those of you that are politically incorrect) As the words from Mike’s Message to Black/White Women poured into my mind I relinquished every right to get over-emotional and confused. As he spoke of his precious discovery, the disconnection between what a women says she is and who she really is, I was reminded of the experiences I had with men. Somehow women and men have discovered that same detail about each other. Ultimately, I seem to be allergic to bullshit so being an ANGRY BLACK BITCH from the beginning eliminates a lot of long term problems that I’d have dealing with a simple minded BLACK MAN. I am a product of my environment merely because of the constant violent atmosphere that Washington DC graciously handed to me, my mother’s deep desire to be a mistress instead of a mother to me, my father’s inability to practice discipline, my step father’s perverted actions, and an misunderstanding of who I have always been. Here are a few reasons why I am who I say I am. (If I wasn’t then why would I say I am?)

At 8 I was told to pull my pants down by my step father “Mike”. Afterwards he grabbed me from behind and kissed me on the neck. He was very cruel to me and emotionless. He was very sexual and anal. It took another 8 years for me to tell my mother only for her to reply a simple “Ok” along side a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. We never mentioned the incident again until I was about 24.

At 13 I got my first boyfriend Duane. He dumped me after 5 months of us being together. He told me he didn’t want to be with me anymore because of all of his friends liked me. I was confused…..because of his own insecurities I thought something was wrong with me and no one was there to explain to me what the fuck was going on.

At 13 and a 1/2 the first guy I liked, Amon, shared my first kiss with me in the lunch room in front of everyone only for me to find out later that he had bet his friends $10 that he could kiss me. He was never interested in me.

At 14 I remember being forcefully fingered for the first time by my boyfriend Alex at a house party. I remember being completely disgusted by him using his dirty finger to insert it in my vagina. Afterwards I had immediately ran away from him as fast as I could, crying, ultimately ruining his life by allowing our peers to think he raped me.

At 15 I had sex for the first time with my boyfriend Kevin on a trip to Alabama for summer vacation. My mother didn’t like it. She was back home in DC, pissed. Neither did my 7 aunts. When I left Alabama they tried their best to keep me away from him. They did not encourage me to have relationships with boys especially Kevin. They always made it clear that sex was a dirty thing to do, that men cheat & lie, that they’d never take me serious, and there was no need for me to even be thinking about marriage. I don’t remember ever sitting down and having the birds & bees talk. They told me that Kevin would never stick around and for me to forget that he existed. Especially because he lived in an entirely different state as I did. We kept in touch.

At 17 Kevin asked me to the prom only to find out that I had become pregnant by my boyfriend Philip whom I later caught cheating on me with a white girl that worked at the local public pool. My mother wouldn’t let me go to prom as punishment for getting pregnant. Philip said he left me because she knew how to cook and I didn’t. Philip offered to pay half for my abortion but never came through. My mom ended up paying for it. Kevin & I were on & off for 7 years after that.

Between the ages of 16-18 I was gang raped once, date raped twice, and had sex with a married man, and with men at least 10 years older than me.

At 20, during an off period with Kevin I had my first child with Andre. He and I had been together for 2 years on & off before we had Neeka, our daughter. When she was born we broke up because I cheated on him with a close friend of mine. I confessed and moved on.

At 21, I moved to Atlanta. I became pregnant by Kevin during our “on” period. He told me that I needed to get an abortion because he wanted to concentrate on his music career. After our first argument ever, Kevin broke our relationship off for good 4 years later. He got married to someone else & had a son without telling me.

Afterwards I adopted a bad drug habit. Most of the men from the south didn’t like my city attitude and the women there did not know how to take care of themselves. I dated a man twice my age. It was him who taught me how to give good oral sex. I had a full time job, I interned at Def Jam South and I also attended BA classes at AIU. I paid his mortgage when he needed me to, washed his clothes and cleaned his house. Once while I was washing his dishes I saw lipstick marks on the wine glasses and forks. He taught me to be domesticated only for me to find out one night while laying in his bed expecting him to be back from the club soon that not only was he a dirty bastard but that he was horrible at lying. He came into the house at about 2 am and told me that his homeboy was downstairs and the two of them were going to smoke a “white boy”. I went back to sleep and woke up 20 minutes later to R Kelly. I tiptoed downstairs and saw him fucking another woman on the couch. I went back upstairs and waited for the women to leave. He came back upstairs and acted as if it was really his homeboy he was downstairs with. At this 6 month period I left him.

At 22, I got into a two year relationship with “Free”. We were in love madly. He proposed and gave me a modest ring. When I told my mother I was getting married she laughed and walked away. It wasn’t until our 2nd year that he started to beat me up. All we’d do is argue. Finally I broke it off with him after I couldn’t take the beatings anymore.

At 23 I dated my first convicted felon. He said out loud: “Give me that dick!” one time when we were having sex. He used to always want me to “toss his salad”. Come to find out he was gay.

At 24 I moved to Charlotte to stay with my daughter’s father. I stayed there for two years with my daughter. I guy I had been friends with since the age of 20 found me on MYSPACE and told me to give him call. When I called Treva he was crying. He told me he was in love with me and that he’d been searching for me for two years and that he wanted me to move back to ATLANTA to get married. We talked everyday until I came back to Atlanta. He moved into the house he bought me but he never bought me home. It wasn’t until a year later that he told me the reason why he and I never married. Evidently before I moved back from Charlotte he had got engaged to a woman twice his age and he was still with her and he is still with her to this day.

I am now 29. Since then I have been with countless men that don’t even deserve to be named. They are all Black, all gave me the same kind of problems. I’ve been single since. I’ve heard the same line after line from men. “I’m afraid to commit because I was cheated on once, or I’m not trying to have a relationship, I just want to kick it. Or my favorite, she’s not my girl we just live together.”

It wasn’t until recently that I felt pretty enough. I never thought I was a beautiful woman until I turned 24. I began modeling while I was visiting my daughter in Charlotte. She lives with her dad, Andre. Who happens to be one of the best men in the world to have. Urban modeling made me discover how beautiful I was however it also placed me in the stereotype of Black Women. In Atlanta where they told me I wasn’t beautiful enough I was beginning to be noticed. But, when I decided to move back to Atlanta to pursue my career, I had changed and so did the modeling industry. I couldn’t take a picture without someone wanting to see my ass. No photographers wanted to work with me unless I had by ass in thongs. I allowed my photographers to direct me they’d tell me this what u should do to get in this magazine or that magazine. I’ve always looked at modeling as a business. But as I matured I started to notice that not only was I being disrespected by men more but I was surrounded by women who had low self esteem. I was expected to do have group sex and to degrade myself in ways you wouldn’t believe. The tool that I used to help get confidence in myself was now a tool for other women to get the attention that they wanted from men. And let me mind you it’s the wrong kind of attention. However we do not do these things because we are WHORES. We do these things because we are LOST.

I’ve done one music video. How degrading….I hated it! All they wanted me to do was gyrate on some thug whose goal was to make himself look like a KING instead of actually putting in the work to be a KING. Black Men don’t understand that they control the entertainment industry. They control the media and how BLACK WOMEN look to the rest of the world. So many failed Black Fathers and disappointed Black Mothers have confused Black daughters. We looked to them to guide us and somehow Black Men decided to be care only for themselves. They do not see us in a positive light. It is difficult for us Black Women to be stronger and say I will not do this kind of music video or print work when this seems to be the only way some of us can succeed. By nature men are to protect and provide for women. But instead Lil' Wayne & Drake make songs chanting about how they want to “FUCK” every girl in the world. The misrepresentation that the media gives the rest of the world confuses the people outside of the entertainment industry......we call it the "SMOKE & MIRRORS" industry. Not ALL Black women cherish a huge ass. Not only is the problem that the BLACK MAN need to fix it’s up to Black women to make a decision. YES! That decision is hard for us to make. I’m not one of those women that believes that I DO NOT need a Black Man. I do. I’m a human being. I was born to be a counterpart. That’s just how I was built. That does not mean all women need this or want this. I won’t go through the extreme to get a man but it is always comfortable to have one around.

Yes I have an attitude. You damn right I do. Because, my Black Man won’t take his place in my community. My Black Man won’t protect me, He’d rather use me like I’m toilet paper….instead of showing me another way. My Black Man would rather the world think I was a whore rather than show me what a lady is supposed to act like. My Black Man would rather write blogs that drip with disdain about me. Blogs that talk about how filthy my mouth is…..about how much I don’t deserve the best way I communicate with someone I love….a kiss. They talk about how I can minister to my community. He claims that when a man approaches me with a simple gesture of kindness, like hello, he doesn’t have a motive. Yeah right BLACK MAN. I may be a bitch but I'm not stupid! You want something.

And yeah BLACK WOMAN, teach your girls to be ladies that’s all you can really do. Our BLACK MAN left us alone and then they wonder why we act like this, why we bring our baggage to them. It's clear that men & women are confused about their place. Throughout the years we've had to wear pants that were never designed for us to wear. Now it has become hard to trust a man to help us survive. It's common courtesy that when life gets too heavy for us to carry it becomes a BLACK Man’s responsibility. Our BLACK MAN is supposed to pick up the check. Men have become lazy. I have enough problems as a BLACK WOMAN excelling in corporate America but dealing with the “BLACK TAX”. Now you telling me I have to come home to this sorry "nigga" who was once Prince Charming just to trick me in the beginning but was really an imbecile with no intention on marrying me. Then to add insult to injury his favorite past time is to go to the strip club and watch big bootie light skinned bitches. Naw…..I can’t put his ass out on the street because he doesn't have anywhere to go. I won’t let any man change my kind heart. I won’t become old and bitter. I rather be the strength for both of us while he "ain’t got shit". Then when he got his shit together he leaves me anyway for another woman. Or better yet he blatantly tells me he has another woman and that I should accept that. How soon Black Men forget their Black Woman. A Black Men don't know shit about loyalty. He doesn’t shit about trust. He doesn’t shit about discipline. He doesn’t know shit about respect. But he wants me to be this perfect creature and give and give and give. When all he does is take? A sexy heel doesn’t have shit to do with class. Not having class is this blog. Instead of hitting a positive note Mike Carroll would rather spit on our name and add fuel to the flame.

By the way let me tell you why I’m single… beauty has nothing to do with it. My kindness nor my status, my money or my attitude, my self esteem nor the competition have nothing to do with it! It’s because my Black Men is better at copping out than he is at loving me. He’s better at being greedy than he is at being moral. I’ve been fucked in so many ways you’d never believe. The Black Men have tried and tried at tainting me. But guess what, it’s a man out there that can survive. And he was build brick by brick just for me. He’s going to love my business ventures and my child-like tendencies, he going to love my tender kisses, and with our sweetest memories will hold a deeper side of wisdom than those that I consider casualties. I can prove that just because my beauty is my business doesn’t mean I’m promiscuous. It doesn’t mean who I am at work is who I am in bed. It just means that I am good at what I do and that is….being beautiful. My job is not to convince you of what your job is. My job is to take of the Black Men that do love me.

Do not confuse my sex appeal and comfort with my body with promiscuity. The second I open my mouth to speak the scent of my poise, grace, and self respect, self- love comes out. Who are you to tell me how much I don’t love myself? It is not up to the outside world to measure how much Soncerae’s loves herself. How I love myself and how I show the world that I love myself is up to ME! It is not your responsibility. I may not love Soncerae how you do or how you love yourself. I don't model for money..
I'm a business woman and my beauty helps my career. I'm a publisher/writer I have a BA in Marketing and modeling is just on the side. Now I understand how some may feel but for future reference there is no need to put emphasis on women who YOU think are “whores”. Positive people pay attention to positive things. Don't let my club uniform, work uniform fool you. I can be watched but I can not be touched. How I carry myself falsifies any assumption that I may be anything close to promiscuous. Enjoy my beauty if you don't like what you see then keep it moving but do not put big red arrows on top of the horrible depiction of BLACK WOMAN that BLACK WOMEN like me have NOT CREATED. MEN take responsibility. Don’t lay back and let the world see us like this. You are strong! Help us!

REMEMBER: The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in times of comfort and convenience but where he stands in times of challenge and controversy.... –Martin Luther King