By Marlon leTerrance
"I will not let another man hurt me. No matter what happens in my life, I won’t allow another man to get this close to me again." These sentiments can sometimes sneak up behind you with the subtlety of a Mack truck. Everything you have worked to create in your relationship has been snatched away from you. You feel confused and overwhelmed. An assortment of emotions swims inside of you like a school of malicious fish, each emotion vying for your attention.
Usually, anger is the first to steal the limelight. A voice screams out for you to break something, to smash something, or, even more satisfying, to finally tell that worthless tramp who calls herself your friend that she doesn’t have to hide her flirtatious stares at your man anymore because you've dumped him and you won’t be taking him back. The voice mischievously suggests outrageous ideas that might make you feel better. Scratch his car with your keys. Make sure he feels the hurt that you feel. The laptop computer he accidentally left at your apartment? Lose it.
Your anger may fluctuate back and forth, but it is not long before pain claims center stage. An agonizing sense of emptiness buries itself deep inside the pit of your stomach and refuses to leave. You trusted someone, you loved someone, and now he’s gone. But the memories of him remain suspended in the air like the blade of a guillotine. Everything you do seem to remind you of him. You know you made the right choice, but it hurts too much to care about that. You are alone. And it hurts.
Many women talk about the embarrassing disappointment they often feel after a love is lost. They speak of the shame and the humiliation that sometimes comes along with a romantic break-up.
“Everyone knew that Robert was my boyfriend,” declared Tammy over a phone conversation. “We’d been together almost three years. We went everywhere together; we did everything side-by-side. After Robert and I split up, people would see me alone and inquire about him. In the beginning, I couldn’t control the hurt that would flash across my face. I thought it would be easy to move on, but no one would let me. I would hear well-wishers declare, “That’s such a shame. You two were so good together. Why did you let such a good man go?” It made me doubt my decision. It made me shy away from telling people that Robert and I were no longer together. I was ashamed of being single again.”
It doesn’t take long after a romantic break-up for you to be accosted by a host of emotions you hadn’t experienced in ages—frustration, loneliness, and depression. These emotions crowd around you in a solemn silence, as if to pay their respect to the death of your relationship.
The problem with ending emotional relationships is the trust factor. The man you are about to sever ties with is the very same man who has shared many intimate years of your life. You know each other intimately; you’ve shared personal secrets with one another that only the two of you know. You’ve exposed him to the inner you, both the good and the bad—you’ve given him the key to a part of you that no one else is allowed to share. And now that person is gone.
Far too many people can remember, with amazing clarity, the moment their love was either lost or betrayed. They can remember the disbelief, the anger. They can remember the self-doubt and confusion. But more than anything else, they seem to always remember the moment they vowed to never love again.
Tammy didn’t want to lose Robert. She loved him completely. She had trusted him, and over the course of their relationship, she had watched that trust get tangled in a barbed-wire fence of dishonesty. Tammy was determined to never make the same mistake again. She promised to safeguard her heart next time, to never allow herself to trust a man so easily. “I was never a jealous woman before Robert. I mean, if he said he was going out with friends somewhere, I never questioned him. I never doubted his faithfulness. The first couple times a female called our home, I never doubted him when he claimed they were business calls. But now, things are different. Now, I find myself doubting everything a man says. Robert destroyed the innocence in me, and I somehow knew I‘d never get it back. And I hated him for that.”
The situation becomes even worse when you have to ignore the snobby glances of female associates who once envied your happiness. They offer you the usual condolences, but beneath the surface of their eyes, you can almost see them gloating. You had managed to be happy in a world that seemed miserable to them, and now they were elated to have you join them in despair.
After you have been hurt by love and relationships, it’s not easy to muster the courage to start dating again. You often find yourself going out of your way to avoid men, for you have learned how emotionally painful relationships can be. You don’t go on dates. You ignore the advances of seemingly genuine suitors. Men are dogs, and you refuse to operate an emotional doghouse anymore.
What happens when it hurts too much to love again? What do you do when your trust and faith in men have been crushed so often you don’t know how to trust anymore? And even more depressing is the question no one seems willing to answer for you: How do you find Mr. Right when you honestly don’t believe in him anymore?
The fifth step to finding Mr. Right is certainly one of the most difficult steps. I will ask you to learn to trust again. I will search out the most convincing way to explain to you the benefit of allowing yourself to love again. I will argue, hopefully successfully, that even though you shut out pain and disappointment and hurt when you lock away your heart and become an emotional zombie, you also shut out happiness, joy, and the experience of love.
It’s human nature to protect ourselves from pain. It’s human nature to draw up an elaborate emotional defense system to protect ourselves from the carelessness of others. But sometimes, experiencing pain and disappointment is the price we pay for being human, for being vulnerable. Unlike machines, we are not able to tinker through this world, performing important tasks and doing what is needed without exposing ourselves to hurt and possible rejection. Machines are able to deal with human beings without suffering emotionally precisely because they are not human, precisely because they lack the ability to feel. When you trade in your car for a newer, more expensive brand automobile, your old car doesn’t turn on its headlights and wail out accusations of betrayal. It’s unable to remind you of all the times it took you to places you couldn’t have otherwise went. Only humans have this ability. Only humans can experience the pain of a broken heart.
I think it’s important that you understand that you are not alone. The mythical Cupid isn’t sitting on some cloud-like recliner and purposely torturing your heart. There is nothing wrong with you as a woman. Truth is, human beings have been struggling with the idea of love since the beginning of time. And to be honest, we are still no closer now than we were when we crawled around in caves and expressed our desire with animal grunts and wrestling matches.
When you protect yourself against the danger of heartache by refusing to open up again, I am afraid that you do yourself and your heart a disservice. When you try to shield yourself from pain by avoiding almost every man who expresses an interest in you, I am concerned that you lose something valuable in the process. According to Harold Kushner, the author of the best-selling book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, the loss of a loved one “is supposed to hurt. In the same way that dead cells, our hair and fingernails, feel no pain when they are cut but living cells bleed and hurt, so I believe that spiritually dead souls can be cut into, separated from other souls, and not feel pain. But living, sensitive souls are easily hurt.”
I don’t like being hurt. I don’t like experiencing pain. But I believe that we pay a horrible price when we shut ourselves away from the world of love and relationships. We have all experienced the bitterness of people who seems to hate the life they have been blessed with, people who are always complaining about something unimportant. These people are often lonely, miserable folks who drive people away from them with their ways. Often, this happens in a relationship. You can become so bitter, so cold, and so miserable from the experience of a relationship that turned sour that you sabotage your romantic possibilities before they begin.
You are not a machine. You can’t go through life without experiencing heartache. Love is not a guarantee. Relationships are risky. The process of trusting another human being with your feelings is a gamble. Sometimes you will win; sometimes you will lose. But I believe it hurts so much when we lose a loved one precisely because the process of love is so special. If love didn’t have such immense value, it wouldn’t matter to us when our relationship failed. And we feel the pain of this failure because we are human, because our hearts are vulnerable. Take away that vulnerability and you have a safe, machine like world that shuts out love and happiness as effectively as it does pain and disappointment.
It will take courage on your part to unlock the gates that imprisons your heart. Even in your despair, you know you can’t convict love and relationships for the emotional crimes your ex-boyfriend committed. Love is not some monstrous beast just waiting to rip you apart the moment you develop feeling for someone. You have been hurt, possibly even betrayed, but it wasn’t love’s fault. Love and trust are not the bad guys.
It will take time for you to forgive the men in your past who have destroyed your faith in relationships. But your soul mate can only enter into your life when you let him. It will be risky. It will be filled with uncertainties. Still, it’s worth it.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
The Hip-Hop Hypocrisy
By Marlon leTerrance (Inmate20173)
The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat spilled over into our cellblock. From a distance, the sounds of young men shouting at each other and tussling and laughing filled the atmosphere with a certain sense of restlessness. Donald Williams wiped his forehead with the back of his hand then stared down at the tattered pages of an old Bible.
“I remember asking my Mom what she did to make pops hate us so much. I couldn’t have been much older than eleven at the time, but I can still remember the anger I felt. Mom broke down into tears and tried to explain it to me, but I couldn’t understand why other kids had their fathers taking them to ball games and stuff, but mine didn’t even take the time to wish me well on my birthday.” Donald paused a moment to reflect. His expression was a mask of bewilderment and pain. “I used to think that if I could become a good enough kid, it would make my pops want to spend time with me. But the only time my pops really talked to me was when I got into trouble at school. Mom would threaten to send me away to a training school and pops would come over and beat me and lecture me on why I should stop cutting up in class. Many times I would get in trouble just so I could see him and ask him, after he beat me up, if he would come to my basketball game and watch me play. I just wanted him to be proud of me, to love me, but I ended up hating him and everyone around me because he couldn’t.”
When I first heard Donald Williams’ story, I made a vow to one day tell it to the world. It was a painful tale of a young man attempting to somehow deal with the absence of a responsible father. Donald’s words were filled with rage and interlaced with a venomous sense of hatred. Yet, underneath the anger, there seemed to be a hint of tears. He was in pain, he was hurting, and the man responsible for this devastation didn’t seem to care.
“When I got sentenced to prison, he came here to visit me a few times. He tried to preach to me and counsel me and tell me how wrong I was for selling drugs and living the criminal lifestyle. Man, he even sent me a bible and tried to tell me to give my life to Jesus. But it was too late. After all these years without him, what made this fool feel like he had the right to step into my life now and give out fatherly advice. I would’ve worshiped Satan before I listened to a thing he had to offer. Whenever I looked at him I wanted to just grab his neck and squeeze it and squeeze it and squeeze it until every ounce of his miserable life oozed out of him. I hated that man more than I have ever hated anyone in my life.”
Donald took his father off the visitation list and swore that he never wanted to see the man again. In my presence, Donald never allowed a tear to trail down his chocolate face. But I can imagine those tears came, often, in the middle of the night while contemplating the hate that a father’s neglect created.
Horrific stories of men who refuse to play an important role in the lives of their children are well known. It is an issue that must be dealt with firmly; with serious consequences handed down to offenders. But I am writing this article because I know of another story of blatant child abuse that may hit closer to home than you realize.
It is the story of a child named Hip-Hop. It was born out of raw sense of expression that led many black kids to turn basements and dormitories and bedrooms into impromptu studios. Inner-city geniuses began experimenting with an art form that had the promise of becoming a powerful force in the community. It was fun and competitive. Street corners became the breeding ground for aspiring emcee’s to get their first taste at moving a crowd. With pioneers like Afrika Bambaataa and Kool Herc and Grandmaster Flash, along with many others leading the way, rap music exploded into the hearts of young black kids across America.
Along with the birth of Hip-Hop came the emergence of annoyed critics within the older black generation. They wrote Hip-Hop off as a fad that would die out in two or three years. They were far more concerned with stepping across the railroad tracks into the American Dream than paying much attention to the silly Hip-Hop kids with high-top hair cuts who used their mouths to beat-box. (The current Hip-Hop critics who claim to only be against “gangsta rap” are no more than intellectual hypocrites. Vocal members of the older generation disowned rap music even in its infancy--well before it became a vehicle for some artists to disrespect females and illustrate the horrors of street life.)
As a result of the older generation’s neglect, many of Hip-Hop’s leading pioneers ended up signing horrible contracts that gave opportunistic new labels total control over their lives and careers. Instead of influential black leaders using their experience and wisdom to reach back and help Hip-Hop grow into a positive, more focused force in the black community, far too many of these leaders (and rap critics) made the decision to disassociate themselves from the music. Hip-Hop didn’t seem to fit into the cultured, intelligent, and civilized image that they were trying to project to White America.
Still, Hip-Hop grew. Talented poets from all over the country were eager to contribute their vision to the music. Run DMC, LL Cool J, Kool Moe Dee, KRS One, Ice-T, Rakim, and a host of others continued to build upon the foundation of Hip-Hop. Mistakes were made, egos clashed, but rap music followed the beat of it’s own drummer and continued to make huge strides forward. Soon, rap music began reaching the ears of white suburban kids. As a result, Hip-Hop entered the radar screens of white corporate entities as a marketable (and exploitable) commodity. Money was offered, deals were made, and contracts were signed. Nowhere in this equation did black intellectuals step in to offer guidance and “fatherly” advice. White lawyers in fancy suits shuffled tons of paperwork in front of new artists, enticing them to sign over all their publishing rights for a few pennies. Had more brothers with insight and experience stepped up to the plate to defend the rights of these early artists instead of criticizing them, maybe less rappers would have been raped financially. Tales of bankruptcy and poverty amongst the early innovators of rap music will forever be a footnote in the history of Hip-Hop.
Still, Hip-Hop grew; new artists contributed new things. Biz Markie and Slick Rick made kids laugh, and Ice-T explained the gangster’s plight with tracks like “Colors.” Hip-Hop expanded into new territory, and even newer, fresher voices filled the airwaves. Two heartbeats later, a group named N.W.A stole away the imagination of fans by introducing a raw, no-holds-barred form of expression that graphically detailed the lives of gangsters. White kids in Alabama started screaming “Fuck Tha Police,” and politicians all over America began targeting Hip-Hop as a scapegoat for social woes. Most black leaders remained quiet during this onslaught, leaving their Hip-Hop children to be sacrificed by an angry white political lynch mob.
Still, Hip-Hop survived. Though battle-weary and bruised, the music produced prophets who attempted to fill the void left by the older generation. Groups like X-Clan, Public Enemy, and KRS One tried to teach the masses about black power and unity. “Self-Destruction” became an anthem for change as artists from across the spectrum joined together to promote positive interaction. This would have been the perfect time for the intellectual critics of Hip-Hop to reach back and steer rap music onto the Yellow Brick Road to redemption. Instead, these critics turned their backs on Hip-Hop and settled down into their little house on the prairie, beside the Waltons.
Now, in the wake of Tupac and Biggie’s death, as Hip-Hop struggles to redefine it’s identity and purpose, there seems to be a resurgence of black critics banging down the door to CNN’s studios hoping to spit out a few intellectual sound bites that will impress their colleagues. Sideline opinions from people who have never even listened to rap music is becoming the norm. More and more black leaders are claiming to be upset that the white corporate structure is exploiting the talents of young black males, and that most artists are too blind to recognize this. My understanding of history is based more on facts. The truth is, it took white media outlets to embrace Hip-Hop before black-owned media outlets realized that it was “okay” to feature rap groups (the only exception being Soul Train). It was only after Nike and Reebok and Mountain Dew and Sprite used Hip-Hop artists in high profile commercials that black-owned companies accepted the idea. Quick research will show anyone interested that Forbes and Time Magazine had cover stories detailing the economical power of Hip-Hop moguls years before Black Enterprise had the courage to tackle the issue.
Donald Williams wasn’t perfect. Neither is Hip-Hop. They both traveled down a lonely road filled with foolish mistakes and very bad choices. But I understand their anger when, after years of neglect and disappointment, irresponsible father figures tap-dance their way back into the spotlight with two-cent opinions on what the young should and shouldn’t do. The words that Donald said to me, seven years ago, seem to be the same words that many Hip-Hop fans are screaming out today. “After all these years without him, what [makes] this fool feel like he [has] the right to step into my life now and give out fatherly advice.”
The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat spilled over into our cellblock. From a distance, the sounds of young men shouting at each other and tussling and laughing filled the atmosphere with a certain sense of restlessness. Donald Williams wiped his forehead with the back of his hand then stared down at the tattered pages of an old Bible.
“I remember asking my Mom what she did to make pops hate us so much. I couldn’t have been much older than eleven at the time, but I can still remember the anger I felt. Mom broke down into tears and tried to explain it to me, but I couldn’t understand why other kids had their fathers taking them to ball games and stuff, but mine didn’t even take the time to wish me well on my birthday.” Donald paused a moment to reflect. His expression was a mask of bewilderment and pain. “I used to think that if I could become a good enough kid, it would make my pops want to spend time with me. But the only time my pops really talked to me was when I got into trouble at school. Mom would threaten to send me away to a training school and pops would come over and beat me and lecture me on why I should stop cutting up in class. Many times I would get in trouble just so I could see him and ask him, after he beat me up, if he would come to my basketball game and watch me play. I just wanted him to be proud of me, to love me, but I ended up hating him and everyone around me because he couldn’t.”
When I first heard Donald Williams’ story, I made a vow to one day tell it to the world. It was a painful tale of a young man attempting to somehow deal with the absence of a responsible father. Donald’s words were filled with rage and interlaced with a venomous sense of hatred. Yet, underneath the anger, there seemed to be a hint of tears. He was in pain, he was hurting, and the man responsible for this devastation didn’t seem to care.
“When I got sentenced to prison, he came here to visit me a few times. He tried to preach to me and counsel me and tell me how wrong I was for selling drugs and living the criminal lifestyle. Man, he even sent me a bible and tried to tell me to give my life to Jesus. But it was too late. After all these years without him, what made this fool feel like he had the right to step into my life now and give out fatherly advice. I would’ve worshiped Satan before I listened to a thing he had to offer. Whenever I looked at him I wanted to just grab his neck and squeeze it and squeeze it and squeeze it until every ounce of his miserable life oozed out of him. I hated that man more than I have ever hated anyone in my life.”
Donald took his father off the visitation list and swore that he never wanted to see the man again. In my presence, Donald never allowed a tear to trail down his chocolate face. But I can imagine those tears came, often, in the middle of the night while contemplating the hate that a father’s neglect created.
Horrific stories of men who refuse to play an important role in the lives of their children are well known. It is an issue that must be dealt with firmly; with serious consequences handed down to offenders. But I am writing this article because I know of another story of blatant child abuse that may hit closer to home than you realize.
It is the story of a child named Hip-Hop. It was born out of raw sense of expression that led many black kids to turn basements and dormitories and bedrooms into impromptu studios. Inner-city geniuses began experimenting with an art form that had the promise of becoming a powerful force in the community. It was fun and competitive. Street corners became the breeding ground for aspiring emcee’s to get their first taste at moving a crowd. With pioneers like Afrika Bambaataa and Kool Herc and Grandmaster Flash, along with many others leading the way, rap music exploded into the hearts of young black kids across America.
Along with the birth of Hip-Hop came the emergence of annoyed critics within the older black generation. They wrote Hip-Hop off as a fad that would die out in two or three years. They were far more concerned with stepping across the railroad tracks into the American Dream than paying much attention to the silly Hip-Hop kids with high-top hair cuts who used their mouths to beat-box. (The current Hip-Hop critics who claim to only be against “gangsta rap” are no more than intellectual hypocrites. Vocal members of the older generation disowned rap music even in its infancy--well before it became a vehicle for some artists to disrespect females and illustrate the horrors of street life.)
As a result of the older generation’s neglect, many of Hip-Hop’s leading pioneers ended up signing horrible contracts that gave opportunistic new labels total control over their lives and careers. Instead of influential black leaders using their experience and wisdom to reach back and help Hip-Hop grow into a positive, more focused force in the black community, far too many of these leaders (and rap critics) made the decision to disassociate themselves from the music. Hip-Hop didn’t seem to fit into the cultured, intelligent, and civilized image that they were trying to project to White America.
Still, Hip-Hop grew. Talented poets from all over the country were eager to contribute their vision to the music. Run DMC, LL Cool J, Kool Moe Dee, KRS One, Ice-T, Rakim, and a host of others continued to build upon the foundation of Hip-Hop. Mistakes were made, egos clashed, but rap music followed the beat of it’s own drummer and continued to make huge strides forward. Soon, rap music began reaching the ears of white suburban kids. As a result, Hip-Hop entered the radar screens of white corporate entities as a marketable (and exploitable) commodity. Money was offered, deals were made, and contracts were signed. Nowhere in this equation did black intellectuals step in to offer guidance and “fatherly” advice. White lawyers in fancy suits shuffled tons of paperwork in front of new artists, enticing them to sign over all their publishing rights for a few pennies. Had more brothers with insight and experience stepped up to the plate to defend the rights of these early artists instead of criticizing them, maybe less rappers would have been raped financially. Tales of bankruptcy and poverty amongst the early innovators of rap music will forever be a footnote in the history of Hip-Hop.
Still, Hip-Hop grew; new artists contributed new things. Biz Markie and Slick Rick made kids laugh, and Ice-T explained the gangster’s plight with tracks like “Colors.” Hip-Hop expanded into new territory, and even newer, fresher voices filled the airwaves. Two heartbeats later, a group named N.W.A stole away the imagination of fans by introducing a raw, no-holds-barred form of expression that graphically detailed the lives of gangsters. White kids in Alabama started screaming “Fuck Tha Police,” and politicians all over America began targeting Hip-Hop as a scapegoat for social woes. Most black leaders remained quiet during this onslaught, leaving their Hip-Hop children to be sacrificed by an angry white political lynch mob.
Still, Hip-Hop survived. Though battle-weary and bruised, the music produced prophets who attempted to fill the void left by the older generation. Groups like X-Clan, Public Enemy, and KRS One tried to teach the masses about black power and unity. “Self-Destruction” became an anthem for change as artists from across the spectrum joined together to promote positive interaction. This would have been the perfect time for the intellectual critics of Hip-Hop to reach back and steer rap music onto the Yellow Brick Road to redemption. Instead, these critics turned their backs on Hip-Hop and settled down into their little house on the prairie, beside the Waltons.
Now, in the wake of Tupac and Biggie’s death, as Hip-Hop struggles to redefine it’s identity and purpose, there seems to be a resurgence of black critics banging down the door to CNN’s studios hoping to spit out a few intellectual sound bites that will impress their colleagues. Sideline opinions from people who have never even listened to rap music is becoming the norm. More and more black leaders are claiming to be upset that the white corporate structure is exploiting the talents of young black males, and that most artists are too blind to recognize this. My understanding of history is based more on facts. The truth is, it took white media outlets to embrace Hip-Hop before black-owned media outlets realized that it was “okay” to feature rap groups (the only exception being Soul Train). It was only after Nike and Reebok and Mountain Dew and Sprite used Hip-Hop artists in high profile commercials that black-owned companies accepted the idea. Quick research will show anyone interested that Forbes and Time Magazine had cover stories detailing the economical power of Hip-Hop moguls years before Black Enterprise had the courage to tackle the issue.
Donald Williams wasn’t perfect. Neither is Hip-Hop. They both traveled down a lonely road filled with foolish mistakes and very bad choices. But I understand their anger when, after years of neglect and disappointment, irresponsible father figures tap-dance their way back into the spotlight with two-cent opinions on what the young should and shouldn’t do. The words that Donald said to me, seven years ago, seem to be the same words that many Hip-Hop fans are screaming out today. “After all these years without him, what [makes] this fool feel like he [has] the right to step into my life now and give out fatherly advice.”
Separate Yourself
By Marlon leTerrance
Ask the average female what she wants in a man, ask her what attracts her emotionally, and she will probably answer with a well-rehearsed list of values, characteristics, and personality traits. Chances are she will go out of her way to describe a very successful and confident man who is willing to love and respect her to the fullest. But watch the class of men she ends up choosing to date. Take a moment to note the sort of men she surrounds herself with emotionally, and she will give away the fact that she has no clue what she truly wants in a man.
Many times, women handicap themselves when they enter into a relationship emotionally blindfolded. They flirt around with vague ideas of what they want in a male companion, but when faced with the reality of dating, these qualities are conveniently tossed out the window. These women know that they want a healthy relationship with a loving man; they just are not sure how to dissect these general wants into more specific qualities. Yet, this is a very critical step to the development of a promising relationship. You have to know exactly what you want and need in your romantic partner before you can expect to find much success in the dating arena.
It becomes especially difficult to pinpoint exactly what you want in a potential mate when you have spent most of your life catering to other people's ideas of what’s "good" and "bad" in a relationship. This is why it is important for you to remove yourself from the constellation of external voices--those of friends and family members and, even, ex-lovers--that attempt to drown out your own voice and needs. You have to be willing to separate your personal wants from the wants of others that have been projected onto you.
Kim Taylor had to learn this lesson several times over. For almost fifteen years she only dated professional men with promising futures in the medical or legal fields. She had been convinced by her parents and friends into thinking that a sense of structure and security and professionalism were the qualities that she found the most attractive in men. After awhile, Kim became frustrated and couldn’t understand why her relationships never seemed to work out. That is, until she met Paul, a freelance artist from New York.
"I would have never guessed that I could be attracted to an artist--not in a million years," Kim now gushes, five years into her marriage with Paul. "He was so utterly unlike any guy I had ever dated before. So much so, I didn't really consider him as a candidate at first. But as I got to know him, I began to discover more and more about myself. I began to discover preferences I never knew existed before. I didn't want security from a man; at least not in the way my aunts and college girlfriends seemed to demand it. I wanted passion. I wanted someone who was able to truly enjoy each moment of life with me. Most of the men in my past had been socially successful and very kindhearted, but they almost always seemed to lack a zest for life. Before I met my husband, I had no idea why I always felt like something was missing in these otherwise "perfect" men. I realize now just how much I missed by not having the courage to explore my inner wants and desires sooner."
Sometimes we assume the wants of others instead of our own. We listen to romantic tales of friends and family members and then we say to ourselves, "I want my lover to be like that." But a disappointing dynamic of relationships is this: what works with one couple doesn't necessarily work for the next couple. You have to be willing to explore your inner desires and learn what it is that you truly want--not what your friends want, not what your family wants, and not even what your lover wants. When it comes to romantic love, you will always feel unsatisfied and empty when you dedicate your emotional existence to the happiness of others.
I once advised a close friend of mine to write down a list of the top ten qualities she wanted in a man. I then told her to add or delete from this list after each romantic date. An interesting development occurred as a result. She ended up discovering that many of the things she had initially written on her list were nowhere to be found in the men she found attractive. For some reason, she had assumed she loved mature and responsible men, but the dudes who were able to boil her blood were the exact opposite. They were carefree, exciting, and almost childlike in their approach to life and love.
Before you can fully develop the process of love and relationships, you must first work on completing your own personal development. This is why the first few steps to finding Mr. Right revolve around self-improvement. You have to take a sharp and truthful look at who you are as a woman and what it is that you ultimately want in life and love. Too many times, you may be tempted to overlook these steps and jump head first into the idea of romance—if only because the sense of loneliness has become too depressing. But the success of any real relationship depends exclusively on the strength of its foundation. And you are one half of that foundation.
You are one of the most important elements on the journey towards your romantic happiness. You have to be willing to treat yourself with the same degree of love and compassion that you eventually expect from your future soul mate. Yet this cannot be done when you are not familiar with the true ingredients that make you complete.
In a recent article from eFem magazine, freelance author Terry Carterette writes about the need to know what it is that you truly want in a relationship. "A guy friend of mine once told me that the worse thing a person can do at a used car dealership is to go unprepared. A dealer can tell when a person does not know what it is she's looking for. An already stressful and exhausting experience becomes even more daunting. She very soon finds herself being shuffled from one car to another, with the salesman promoting all sorts of vehicles she doesn’t need. The same is true with love and happiness."
A guy can sell you almost anything when you step into an emotional car lot with no clue what it is that you want. Take the time to learn what you really want. You may be surprised by what you discover.
Ask the average female what she wants in a man, ask her what attracts her emotionally, and she will probably answer with a well-rehearsed list of values, characteristics, and personality traits. Chances are she will go out of her way to describe a very successful and confident man who is willing to love and respect her to the fullest. But watch the class of men she ends up choosing to date. Take a moment to note the sort of men she surrounds herself with emotionally, and she will give away the fact that she has no clue what she truly wants in a man.
Many times, women handicap themselves when they enter into a relationship emotionally blindfolded. They flirt around with vague ideas of what they want in a male companion, but when faced with the reality of dating, these qualities are conveniently tossed out the window. These women know that they want a healthy relationship with a loving man; they just are not sure how to dissect these general wants into more specific qualities. Yet, this is a very critical step to the development of a promising relationship. You have to know exactly what you want and need in your romantic partner before you can expect to find much success in the dating arena.
It becomes especially difficult to pinpoint exactly what you want in a potential mate when you have spent most of your life catering to other people's ideas of what’s "good" and "bad" in a relationship. This is why it is important for you to remove yourself from the constellation of external voices--those of friends and family members and, even, ex-lovers--that attempt to drown out your own voice and needs. You have to be willing to separate your personal wants from the wants of others that have been projected onto you.
Kim Taylor had to learn this lesson several times over. For almost fifteen years she only dated professional men with promising futures in the medical or legal fields. She had been convinced by her parents and friends into thinking that a sense of structure and security and professionalism were the qualities that she found the most attractive in men. After awhile, Kim became frustrated and couldn’t understand why her relationships never seemed to work out. That is, until she met Paul, a freelance artist from New York.
"I would have never guessed that I could be attracted to an artist--not in a million years," Kim now gushes, five years into her marriage with Paul. "He was so utterly unlike any guy I had ever dated before. So much so, I didn't really consider him as a candidate at first. But as I got to know him, I began to discover more and more about myself. I began to discover preferences I never knew existed before. I didn't want security from a man; at least not in the way my aunts and college girlfriends seemed to demand it. I wanted passion. I wanted someone who was able to truly enjoy each moment of life with me. Most of the men in my past had been socially successful and very kindhearted, but they almost always seemed to lack a zest for life. Before I met my husband, I had no idea why I always felt like something was missing in these otherwise "perfect" men. I realize now just how much I missed by not having the courage to explore my inner wants and desires sooner."
Sometimes we assume the wants of others instead of our own. We listen to romantic tales of friends and family members and then we say to ourselves, "I want my lover to be like that." But a disappointing dynamic of relationships is this: what works with one couple doesn't necessarily work for the next couple. You have to be willing to explore your inner desires and learn what it is that you truly want--not what your friends want, not what your family wants, and not even what your lover wants. When it comes to romantic love, you will always feel unsatisfied and empty when you dedicate your emotional existence to the happiness of others.
I once advised a close friend of mine to write down a list of the top ten qualities she wanted in a man. I then told her to add or delete from this list after each romantic date. An interesting development occurred as a result. She ended up discovering that many of the things she had initially written on her list were nowhere to be found in the men she found attractive. For some reason, she had assumed she loved mature and responsible men, but the dudes who were able to boil her blood were the exact opposite. They were carefree, exciting, and almost childlike in their approach to life and love.
Before you can fully develop the process of love and relationships, you must first work on completing your own personal development. This is why the first few steps to finding Mr. Right revolve around self-improvement. You have to take a sharp and truthful look at who you are as a woman and what it is that you ultimately want in life and love. Too many times, you may be tempted to overlook these steps and jump head first into the idea of romance—if only because the sense of loneliness has become too depressing. But the success of any real relationship depends exclusively on the strength of its foundation. And you are one half of that foundation.
You are one of the most important elements on the journey towards your romantic happiness. You have to be willing to treat yourself with the same degree of love and compassion that you eventually expect from your future soul mate. Yet this cannot be done when you are not familiar with the true ingredients that make you complete.
In a recent article from eFem magazine, freelance author Terry Carterette writes about the need to know what it is that you truly want in a relationship. "A guy friend of mine once told me that the worse thing a person can do at a used car dealership is to go unprepared. A dealer can tell when a person does not know what it is she's looking for. An already stressful and exhausting experience becomes even more daunting. She very soon finds herself being shuffled from one car to another, with the salesman promoting all sorts of vehicles she doesn’t need. The same is true with love and happiness."
A guy can sell you almost anything when you step into an emotional car lot with no clue what it is that you want. Take the time to learn what you really want. You may be surprised by what you discover.
Karma is a Motherfucker
"Karma is a motherfucker. I had heard all the folk-tale warnings about things coming back to haunt someone. A man robs a bank on Friday. On Saturday some random criminal burglarizes his home and discovers the stolen loot. Life has a brutal sense of humor sometimes. Poetic justice can sneak up behind even the most cautious hoodlum. I always understood this. I always respected the idea of karma and never attempted to run game on someone who didn’t deserve it. That's why I couldn't understand why my girl would try to fuck me over so badly."
This is the first paragraph to a short story I wrote several years ago. I have always had a special fondness for this opening, as I felt it told a lot about the character without having to say much of anything in particular. I have always loved being able to show my audience that a certain character is, let's say, angry and upset without having to actually write "He's angry and upset."
This is the first paragraph to a short story I wrote several years ago. I have always had a special fondness for this opening, as I felt it told a lot about the character without having to say much of anything in particular. I have always loved being able to show my audience that a certain character is, let's say, angry and upset without having to actually write "He's angry and upset."
Let Go of The Past
By Marlon leTerrance
A large part of truly loving yourself and rebuilding your self-respect is putting the mistakes of your past behind you. The prospects of your future will always appear a little dim and uncertain when you allow yourself to be constantly chained down and haunted by the ghosts of yesterday. You have to be strong enough to once and for all say goodbye to all those sad and bitter experiences that have crippled your sense of self-worth and confidence.
In order for you to make positive changes in your life, you have to get away from focusing so much attention on your past. Instead, you must concentrate on your future. But this can not be done when there’s a scared and untrusting part of you that scurries away like a frightened mouse at the mere thought of getting emotionally involved again. You can’t convince yourself that men are the enemy, and then expect to feel comfortable around them.
A lot of times you defeat the whole purpose of seeking a soul mate when you allow your past to dictate your views of men. You start hiding behind the ridiculous opinion that all men are dogs. You start telling yourself that there is no such thing as a truly gentle and loving man. Yet, deep inside, you know that such blunt generalizations are both cruel and unfair.
When you point emotional fingers at men, blaming every male for the heartache of your past, you become rather skilled at finger pointing but that’s all. You become a romantic detective searching for deception instead of honesty. Each time you meet a man, you start digging through his character and personality, almost hoping that you find a quality in him that proves to be unsavory. But the price you pay is too great. You end up becoming so good at singling out the negative and unsuitable things about a potential date that you lose your ability to recognize and appreciate a guy for who he is as a human being. You fall asleep at night not knowing what to look for in a good man because you are too busy trying to single out and identify the bad guys.
I have known a lot of females who were so caught up in the pain of their past lovers that they tended to scare away future lovers. These women could not hold a conversation without bringing up all the horrible things that some other guy had done to them. And it doesn’t take long for the depressing stories about other men to tear away at a new romance. I’ve spoken with countless men who find themselves lost in a sea storm almost when it comes to dealing with women who use their ex-boyfriends as the topic of virtually every conversation. As a close friend of mine puts it: "A woman who talks about her ex-husband more than she does anyone else strains a relationship from the very beginning. I hate it. I end up feeling as though I’m not only dating her, but her ex-boyfriend as well. It’s like I’m being forced to prove to her that I’m not like her ex, and this is stressful at best. A relationship that starts out with us both trying to prove things to each other, instead of us merely being ourselves, is shaky and pretentious.”
The worst thing that can happen to a female who has been hurt by a man is that she tends to compound the damage by blaming herself for the situation. Not only is she the victim of rejection, but also, she often feels the need to see herself as a bad person who had this coming to her. She makes her own pain worse by telling herself that it was her fault that things went wrong in a relationship. As a result, a broken heart ends up being shattered because she assumes all the responsibility for the mistakes. She stabs herself with guilt, and then carries that guilt around with her--even to other relationships. The wounds never really heal this way.
And, too often, in her pain and confusion, she instinctively does the wrong thing. She doesn’t feel she deserves to be loved or helped, so she lets guilt, anger, jealousy and self-imposed loneliness make a bad situation even worse.
My final advice to my sister, Tenisha, when she was forced to divorce her husband because of his unfaithfulness, was: "You faced a situation that could easily have broken your spirit, a situation that could have left you a bitter, withdrawn woman, jealous of the female friends around you, incapable of responding fully to the promise of being alive. Somehow that did not happen. Somehow, you found the resiliency to go on loving and caring for other people. Like a lot of women, you faced a scary situation, dug deep inside yourself, and found out that you were a lot stronger, and a lot better able to handle it than you ever would have thought you were. I believe that this, more than anything I can say or do, proves that you are a special young lady who deserves to be loved by a real man who will treasure you and fill your life with joy and happiness."
In many ways, this is your most crucial step. You are now standing at the crossroads of romance; you can either let go of your past and look forward to a more fulfilling future, or you can continue drowning yourself in the heartaches and disappointments caused by former lovers. Don’t wait on Prince Charming to ride in on his white horse to convince you that love and happiness is possible again. You have to be willing to convince yourself. And this is done by letting go of the past and refusing to let it dictate your future.
A large part of truly loving yourself and rebuilding your self-respect is putting the mistakes of your past behind you. The prospects of your future will always appear a little dim and uncertain when you allow yourself to be constantly chained down and haunted by the ghosts of yesterday. You have to be strong enough to once and for all say goodbye to all those sad and bitter experiences that have crippled your sense of self-worth and confidence.
In order for you to make positive changes in your life, you have to get away from focusing so much attention on your past. Instead, you must concentrate on your future. But this can not be done when there’s a scared and untrusting part of you that scurries away like a frightened mouse at the mere thought of getting emotionally involved again. You can’t convince yourself that men are the enemy, and then expect to feel comfortable around them.
A lot of times you defeat the whole purpose of seeking a soul mate when you allow your past to dictate your views of men. You start hiding behind the ridiculous opinion that all men are dogs. You start telling yourself that there is no such thing as a truly gentle and loving man. Yet, deep inside, you know that such blunt generalizations are both cruel and unfair.
When you point emotional fingers at men, blaming every male for the heartache of your past, you become rather skilled at finger pointing but that’s all. You become a romantic detective searching for deception instead of honesty. Each time you meet a man, you start digging through his character and personality, almost hoping that you find a quality in him that proves to be unsavory. But the price you pay is too great. You end up becoming so good at singling out the negative and unsuitable things about a potential date that you lose your ability to recognize and appreciate a guy for who he is as a human being. You fall asleep at night not knowing what to look for in a good man because you are too busy trying to single out and identify the bad guys.
I have known a lot of females who were so caught up in the pain of their past lovers that they tended to scare away future lovers. These women could not hold a conversation without bringing up all the horrible things that some other guy had done to them. And it doesn’t take long for the depressing stories about other men to tear away at a new romance. I’ve spoken with countless men who find themselves lost in a sea storm almost when it comes to dealing with women who use their ex-boyfriends as the topic of virtually every conversation. As a close friend of mine puts it: "A woman who talks about her ex-husband more than she does anyone else strains a relationship from the very beginning. I hate it. I end up feeling as though I’m not only dating her, but her ex-boyfriend as well. It’s like I’m being forced to prove to her that I’m not like her ex, and this is stressful at best. A relationship that starts out with us both trying to prove things to each other, instead of us merely being ourselves, is shaky and pretentious.”
The worst thing that can happen to a female who has been hurt by a man is that she tends to compound the damage by blaming herself for the situation. Not only is she the victim of rejection, but also, she often feels the need to see herself as a bad person who had this coming to her. She makes her own pain worse by telling herself that it was her fault that things went wrong in a relationship. As a result, a broken heart ends up being shattered because she assumes all the responsibility for the mistakes. She stabs herself with guilt, and then carries that guilt around with her--even to other relationships. The wounds never really heal this way.
And, too often, in her pain and confusion, she instinctively does the wrong thing. She doesn’t feel she deserves to be loved or helped, so she lets guilt, anger, jealousy and self-imposed loneliness make a bad situation even worse.
My final advice to my sister, Tenisha, when she was forced to divorce her husband because of his unfaithfulness, was: "You faced a situation that could easily have broken your spirit, a situation that could have left you a bitter, withdrawn woman, jealous of the female friends around you, incapable of responding fully to the promise of being alive. Somehow that did not happen. Somehow, you found the resiliency to go on loving and caring for other people. Like a lot of women, you faced a scary situation, dug deep inside yourself, and found out that you were a lot stronger, and a lot better able to handle it than you ever would have thought you were. I believe that this, more than anything I can say or do, proves that you are a special young lady who deserves to be loved by a real man who will treasure you and fill your life with joy and happiness."
In many ways, this is your most crucial step. You are now standing at the crossroads of romance; you can either let go of your past and look forward to a more fulfilling future, or you can continue drowning yourself in the heartaches and disappointments caused by former lovers. Don’t wait on Prince Charming to ride in on his white horse to convince you that love and happiness is possible again. You have to be willing to convince yourself. And this is done by letting go of the past and refusing to let it dictate your future.
Build Yourself First
By Marlon leTerrance
Let me be straight with you from the get-go. True love is not inevitable. It would be cruel and misleading for me to ever suggest that you are somehow destined to find the man of your dreams. But having said this, I do believe that love is inevitably possible. If you are capable of truly loving yourself, then others will be more inclined to love you as well. Because of this, it is almost imperative for you to understand that self-love and self-care precede romantic and faithful love. Your emotional and physical health must always come first. You can never expect men to find in you all the things that you refuse to find in yourself.
You must understand that the first step toward finding a good man is realizing that you actually deserve to be loved. You have to be willing to totally accept the fact that you are a warm and caring person who deserves to be cherished and respected by a man with character, by a man who is willing to commit to you wholeheartedly. And, a lot of times, this is the hardest thing to do.
It is not easy maintaining a high self-esteem when so many of your nights are spent frustrated and alone. It’s hard to keep up your self-confidence when the only men you seem to attract are of the low, cruddy variety. When the only men who approach you are the selfish and irresponsible dudes, or the guys who are scared to death of commitment, or the fellows who see you only as sex objects, then it’s real hard to maintain a sense of pride in yourself. After a while you begin to wonder whether or not there’s something horribly wrong with you. It isn’t long before you start questioning why love and happiness has become so elusive. Eventually, you end up closing your teary eyes at night, scared to death you will be unhappy and alone for the rest of your life.
Then, before you even realize what has happened, you start asking yourself all sorts of mean, self-depreciating questions. "Am I un attractive?" "Am I too aggressive?" "Do I look like the easy type to sex-crazed men?" "Will I ever find Mr. Right? And will he want me when I find him?"
You start taking a cruel, almost cynical look at your friends and family members, all the while asking yourself how they were able to find good men when you seem unable to. You become envious, even jealous at times. When you see young, romantic looking couples holding hands in the park or sharing short, intimate kisses, you force yourself to become numb and indifferent. But there’s a part of you that remains angry and bitter inside. There’s a part of you that becomes cold and distant, because the one thing that you desire the most is beginning to seem as though it is beyond your grasp.
And in your desperation and loneliness, you lower your standards for love, settling for a man you know is not good for you. In the back of your mind you know you deserve more, but instead, you settle for someone far less. Then you try to justify your actions by telling yourself that any man is better than no man at all. "So what, he’s a liar and cheat?" "So what, he has four kids by three different women?" "So what, he’s an ex-convict?" "So what, he’s a selfish sex partner?" You are not alone anymore, right? You have a man by your side, don’t you?
But even as you invent nice and clever little answers to these slanted questions, you know, deep inside, that you have made a mistake. The world of romance is not a yard sale. You can’t bargain love and happiness down to a cheaper price. And whenever you lower the standards for love, you only rob yourself of the immense pleasures that true love has to offer.
You look in the mirror and curse the image staring back at you. Too fat. Too thin. Too saggy. Too thick. And as you stand there, mentally picking a part every aspect of your appearance, you begin losing sight of the most obvious fact of all--a truly good man will accept you for who you are, not for what you look like.
There is not an easy answer when it comes to the problem of self-esteem and low self-confidence. You can’t just will yourself to sleep one night and then wake up the next morning feeling like you are superwoman. Life doesn’t work this way. And as human beings, we are just too sensitive in nature.
My sister, Tenisha, came to me several years ago feeling cheap and humiliated because her husband had cheated on her. I could sense her pain and confusion. Her words burned verbal holes through my heart when she wondered aloud what it was that she had done wrong. Had she been a bad wife, she wondered. Was he not satisfied with her sexually, she wondered? Each question sliced deep into my soul, pulling out tears and emotions that I hadn’t felt in years. I wanted so badly to protect her from all the suffering, to somehow go back in time and make everything right again. But I couldn’t do this, and in a way, I felt almost powerless.
Later, Tenisha decided to divorce her husband, to begin a new life and to search out a more faithful soul mate. It wasn’t easy for her to start over again. I can only imagine how lonely she felt back then, how uncertain and insecure. But she was able to cope with her loss by volunteering much of her free time as a big sister for troubled youth. She recommitted herself to God, struggling each day to become a better person. As a result, she was able to turn a stumbling block into a stepping stone.
A lot of times when you find yourself weighed down by the loneliness of life, you can find a sense of meaning and self-worth by reaching out to others. I can only tell you that some wonderful and liberating things (and also some difficult and demanding things) happen when you dedicate some of your time and energy to other people in need. You come to understand just how sacred and special life is when you are able to hold an elderly person’s hand and talk with her about the past and her interpretation on the present. Sitting down and sharing time and prayers with a sick child somehow brings out the best in us. And the more we help other people in need, the more sensitive and humane we become as a result. Life has a way of hardening our hearts, turning us into cold and cynical people. We look at the world and ourselves with eyes of bitterness and anger. But, by taking out the time to help our fellow man, we rekindle the flame of our humanity; we thaw out our hearts and make us more equipped for real love. By being special to someone else, we learn to see ourselves as special. And in this way, love and happiness start out as an experience instead of a quest.
Your confidence rises when you know that you are a good person doing good deeds for other people. When a troubled teenager tells you that he is willing to take your advice and go back to school, it has an effect on your self-esteem. You feel both needed and loved. And, many times, these are the feelings we desire the most.
True love and Mr. Right are not found in these small acts of charity, but self-love is. And, in the beginning, this is the greatest love of all. Before you can ever really accept the love of someone else, it is most important that you be able to trust, like, and love yourself.
Let me be straight with you from the get-go. True love is not inevitable. It would be cruel and misleading for me to ever suggest that you are somehow destined to find the man of your dreams. But having said this, I do believe that love is inevitably possible. If you are capable of truly loving yourself, then others will be more inclined to love you as well. Because of this, it is almost imperative for you to understand that self-love and self-care precede romantic and faithful love. Your emotional and physical health must always come first. You can never expect men to find in you all the things that you refuse to find in yourself.
You must understand that the first step toward finding a good man is realizing that you actually deserve to be loved. You have to be willing to totally accept the fact that you are a warm and caring person who deserves to be cherished and respected by a man with character, by a man who is willing to commit to you wholeheartedly. And, a lot of times, this is the hardest thing to do.
It is not easy maintaining a high self-esteem when so many of your nights are spent frustrated and alone. It’s hard to keep up your self-confidence when the only men you seem to attract are of the low, cruddy variety. When the only men who approach you are the selfish and irresponsible dudes, or the guys who are scared to death of commitment, or the fellows who see you only as sex objects, then it’s real hard to maintain a sense of pride in yourself. After a while you begin to wonder whether or not there’s something horribly wrong with you. It isn’t long before you start questioning why love and happiness has become so elusive. Eventually, you end up closing your teary eyes at night, scared to death you will be unhappy and alone for the rest of your life.
Then, before you even realize what has happened, you start asking yourself all sorts of mean, self-depreciating questions. "Am I un attractive?" "Am I too aggressive?" "Do I look like the easy type to sex-crazed men?" "Will I ever find Mr. Right? And will he want me when I find him?"
You start taking a cruel, almost cynical look at your friends and family members, all the while asking yourself how they were able to find good men when you seem unable to. You become envious, even jealous at times. When you see young, romantic looking couples holding hands in the park or sharing short, intimate kisses, you force yourself to become numb and indifferent. But there’s a part of you that remains angry and bitter inside. There’s a part of you that becomes cold and distant, because the one thing that you desire the most is beginning to seem as though it is beyond your grasp.
And in your desperation and loneliness, you lower your standards for love, settling for a man you know is not good for you. In the back of your mind you know you deserve more, but instead, you settle for someone far less. Then you try to justify your actions by telling yourself that any man is better than no man at all. "So what, he’s a liar and cheat?" "So what, he has four kids by three different women?" "So what, he’s an ex-convict?" "So what, he’s a selfish sex partner?" You are not alone anymore, right? You have a man by your side, don’t you?
But even as you invent nice and clever little answers to these slanted questions, you know, deep inside, that you have made a mistake. The world of romance is not a yard sale. You can’t bargain love and happiness down to a cheaper price. And whenever you lower the standards for love, you only rob yourself of the immense pleasures that true love has to offer.
You look in the mirror and curse the image staring back at you. Too fat. Too thin. Too saggy. Too thick. And as you stand there, mentally picking a part every aspect of your appearance, you begin losing sight of the most obvious fact of all--a truly good man will accept you for who you are, not for what you look like.
There is not an easy answer when it comes to the problem of self-esteem and low self-confidence. You can’t just will yourself to sleep one night and then wake up the next morning feeling like you are superwoman. Life doesn’t work this way. And as human beings, we are just too sensitive in nature.
My sister, Tenisha, came to me several years ago feeling cheap and humiliated because her husband had cheated on her. I could sense her pain and confusion. Her words burned verbal holes through my heart when she wondered aloud what it was that she had done wrong. Had she been a bad wife, she wondered. Was he not satisfied with her sexually, she wondered? Each question sliced deep into my soul, pulling out tears and emotions that I hadn’t felt in years. I wanted so badly to protect her from all the suffering, to somehow go back in time and make everything right again. But I couldn’t do this, and in a way, I felt almost powerless.
Later, Tenisha decided to divorce her husband, to begin a new life and to search out a more faithful soul mate. It wasn’t easy for her to start over again. I can only imagine how lonely she felt back then, how uncertain and insecure. But she was able to cope with her loss by volunteering much of her free time as a big sister for troubled youth. She recommitted herself to God, struggling each day to become a better person. As a result, she was able to turn a stumbling block into a stepping stone.
A lot of times when you find yourself weighed down by the loneliness of life, you can find a sense of meaning and self-worth by reaching out to others. I can only tell you that some wonderful and liberating things (and also some difficult and demanding things) happen when you dedicate some of your time and energy to other people in need. You come to understand just how sacred and special life is when you are able to hold an elderly person’s hand and talk with her about the past and her interpretation on the present. Sitting down and sharing time and prayers with a sick child somehow brings out the best in us. And the more we help other people in need, the more sensitive and humane we become as a result. Life has a way of hardening our hearts, turning us into cold and cynical people. We look at the world and ourselves with eyes of bitterness and anger. But, by taking out the time to help our fellow man, we rekindle the flame of our humanity; we thaw out our hearts and make us more equipped for real love. By being special to someone else, we learn to see ourselves as special. And in this way, love and happiness start out as an experience instead of a quest.
Your confidence rises when you know that you are a good person doing good deeds for other people. When a troubled teenager tells you that he is willing to take your advice and go back to school, it has an effect on your self-esteem. You feel both needed and loved. And, many times, these are the feelings we desire the most.
True love and Mr. Right are not found in these small acts of charity, but self-love is. And, in the beginning, this is the greatest love of all. Before you can ever really accept the love of someone else, it is most important that you be able to trust, like, and love yourself.
In Defense of Hip-Hop
By Marlon leTerrance (NightShade)
I had a dream last night that scared me. All the Black rappers in America stopped making realistic music about violence, sex, drugs and crime. The Hip-Hop community, as a whole, no longer endorsed their culturally rich tradition of fashion. Instead of wearing sagging pants and tight miniskirts they threw on Brooks Brothers suits. They exchanged their Timberlands in for Bruno Magli slippers. They stopped reading Donald Goines books (for those who happened to read) and, instead, mentally swam in the world of Ralph Waldo Emerson.
No one sold drugs on the streets in the black community. Drug dealers humbly accepted their fate in white America and found pride in shining shoes. Black males tossed aside hundreds of years of psychological conditioning and became responsible fathers, opting to stay home and become loving dads instead of running scared and leaving women to rear children alone.
Black women, chained down by the so-called negative influence of the Hip-Hop culture, no longer felt a need to align themselves with the horrible history of their race and slavery. Black women decided, quite abruptly, to never look at themselves as sex objects in the way their foremothers were seen as sex objects by slave masters. Instead, Black women walked with pride and substance, always trying to better themselves.
Black men and women no longer had casual sex. The long, complicated traditions of West Africa were tossed aside, and, with relative ease, the western culture of marriage before intercourse was accepted and upheld. Black on black crime no longer existed. The social unbalance and self-hatred that drove previous black men to hurt and kill one another stopped completely.
Everything that even remotely resembled gangsta rap was taken off the shelves of music stores. Rap music, as a genre, could not be sold unless it contained 90% Christian music. Still, young black males endorsed this change and made only White Jesus rap songs. It did not matter to young black rappers that Christianity wasn't their original religion. Nor did it concern them that it was a religion that was literally beat into the skulls of slaves as a means of brainwashing servants and making rebellious subjects more passive.
Black males and females studied hard in school and grabbed the American dream. They gladly went to college, prying open their brains to the wealth of knowledge that each white professor and black professor had to share. No more blunts. No more blasting loud music out of banging systems inside of overly expensive cars. No more disrespecting elders. No more RAP. No more Hip-Hop.
In my dream I looked around and couldn't believe what I was seeing. Everything looked so foreign, so surreal, so...fake. Then, I walked over to a newspaper stand and looked at the headlines. It read: "All the Educated, Religious, Elderly, Whitewashed black folks in America have lynched themselves!”
Shocked, I read further: "It seems that Educated, Religious, Elderly, and Whitewashed Black Folks in America have decided to end their lives today because they NO LONGER have anything or anyone to blame for their FAILURE in the civil rights struggle. Now that Hip-Hop has died, these "uppity" Negroes have nothing else to point their fingers at or accuse for their race's downfall. Understandably, they CAN NOT point their finger at Whitey, for that is no longer politically correct. So, instead of dealing with their own personal failure, instead of admitting that they sold out years ago, these worthy soldiers called it quits this morning and sought out the rope."
I awoke with sweat on my forehead and fear bungee jumping from my chest. I couldn't help but wonder if the death of hip-hop would, in a very scary way, bring forth the death of it's most elaborate critic--the Struggled-out Has-been.
Take away hip-hop and the ghetto still remains. What idiot started the rumor that racism would end if groups like Mobb Deep dropped positive albums. That's ridiculous. Cops won’t stop beating black folks down just because we change our "sagging pants" dress code. Judges won’t stop throwing innocent black men into prison for trumped-up crimes just because Hip-Hop, as a culture, stops glamorizing drug dealers. David Duke won’t change his ideology just because we change our terminology and stop calling each other niggaz. Who are these impostors (Hip-Hop Critics) trying to con, Hip-Hop fans or themselves?
Maybe the people who condemn us Hip-Hop fans are truly disappointed, but not in us. Instead, they are just disappointed in themselves---for they have marched and preached and died and kissed and brown nosed and struggled and we STILL haven’t seen the mountaintop that Martin spoke about. These elderly, Black Intellectuals seem so determined to preach about the mythical torch that was handed down to the younger generation. But the torch was never passed, it was pawned away to white America, and now they are trying to blame Hip-Hop fans for a blunder that’s before our time. Who killed Malcolm?
Are they mad because, after all these years, after all the so-called struggling, that ugly white monster is STILL sitting in our living room uninvited (not to mention that this very same monster still OWNS the whole house as well as the land outside.)? And THAT problem, dear readers, is much bigger than Hip-Hop, for it was bigger than both Malcolm and Martin.
I had a dream last night that scared me. All the Black rappers in America stopped making realistic music about violence, sex, drugs and crime. The Hip-Hop community, as a whole, no longer endorsed their culturally rich tradition of fashion. Instead of wearing sagging pants and tight miniskirts they threw on Brooks Brothers suits. They exchanged their Timberlands in for Bruno Magli slippers. They stopped reading Donald Goines books (for those who happened to read) and, instead, mentally swam in the world of Ralph Waldo Emerson.
No one sold drugs on the streets in the black community. Drug dealers humbly accepted their fate in white America and found pride in shining shoes. Black males tossed aside hundreds of years of psychological conditioning and became responsible fathers, opting to stay home and become loving dads instead of running scared and leaving women to rear children alone.
Black women, chained down by the so-called negative influence of the Hip-Hop culture, no longer felt a need to align themselves with the horrible history of their race and slavery. Black women decided, quite abruptly, to never look at themselves as sex objects in the way their foremothers were seen as sex objects by slave masters. Instead, Black women walked with pride and substance, always trying to better themselves.
Black men and women no longer had casual sex. The long, complicated traditions of West Africa were tossed aside, and, with relative ease, the western culture of marriage before intercourse was accepted and upheld. Black on black crime no longer existed. The social unbalance and self-hatred that drove previous black men to hurt and kill one another stopped completely.
Everything that even remotely resembled gangsta rap was taken off the shelves of music stores. Rap music, as a genre, could not be sold unless it contained 90% Christian music. Still, young black males endorsed this change and made only White Jesus rap songs. It did not matter to young black rappers that Christianity wasn't their original religion. Nor did it concern them that it was a religion that was literally beat into the skulls of slaves as a means of brainwashing servants and making rebellious subjects more passive.
Black males and females studied hard in school and grabbed the American dream. They gladly went to college, prying open their brains to the wealth of knowledge that each white professor and black professor had to share. No more blunts. No more blasting loud music out of banging systems inside of overly expensive cars. No more disrespecting elders. No more RAP. No more Hip-Hop.
In my dream I looked around and couldn't believe what I was seeing. Everything looked so foreign, so surreal, so...fake. Then, I walked over to a newspaper stand and looked at the headlines. It read: "All the Educated, Religious, Elderly, Whitewashed black folks in America have lynched themselves!”
Shocked, I read further: "It seems that Educated, Religious, Elderly, and Whitewashed Black Folks in America have decided to end their lives today because they NO LONGER have anything or anyone to blame for their FAILURE in the civil rights struggle. Now that Hip-Hop has died, these "uppity" Negroes have nothing else to point their fingers at or accuse for their race's downfall. Understandably, they CAN NOT point their finger at Whitey, for that is no longer politically correct. So, instead of dealing with their own personal failure, instead of admitting that they sold out years ago, these worthy soldiers called it quits this morning and sought out the rope."
I awoke with sweat on my forehead and fear bungee jumping from my chest. I couldn't help but wonder if the death of hip-hop would, in a very scary way, bring forth the death of it's most elaborate critic--the Struggled-out Has-been.
Take away hip-hop and the ghetto still remains. What idiot started the rumor that racism would end if groups like Mobb Deep dropped positive albums. That's ridiculous. Cops won’t stop beating black folks down just because we change our "sagging pants" dress code. Judges won’t stop throwing innocent black men into prison for trumped-up crimes just because Hip-Hop, as a culture, stops glamorizing drug dealers. David Duke won’t change his ideology just because we change our terminology and stop calling each other niggaz. Who are these impostors (Hip-Hop Critics) trying to con, Hip-Hop fans or themselves?
Maybe the people who condemn us Hip-Hop fans are truly disappointed, but not in us. Instead, they are just disappointed in themselves---for they have marched and preached and died and kissed and brown nosed and struggled and we STILL haven’t seen the mountaintop that Martin spoke about. These elderly, Black Intellectuals seem so determined to preach about the mythical torch that was handed down to the younger generation. But the torch was never passed, it was pawned away to white America, and now they are trying to blame Hip-Hop fans for a blunder that’s before our time. Who killed Malcolm?
Are they mad because, after all these years, after all the so-called struggling, that ugly white monster is STILL sitting in our living room uninvited (not to mention that this very same monster still OWNS the whole house as well as the land outside.)? And THAT problem, dear readers, is much bigger than Hip-Hop, for it was bigger than both Malcolm and Martin.
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