So what’s hot in the streets these last few days has been the Root Article about “What Single Black Women can learn from Michelle Obama”. If you were living under a rock and haven’t read or at least heard of it, I’ll give you the cliff notes:
Black women are too picky and shallow and when they meet an otherwise good man they rule him out for the following reasons:
His toes were ashy.
He seems like he’d be a really cool friend, but I don’t know, those lips. . .
He was wearing a bubble coat, and seriously, it was not that cold.
We had a good conversation, but I like a man to be more aggressive.
That was our second and last date. He used the word “authentic” like 14 times.
How many times do I have to tell you I’m looking for someone TALL and HOT? Keywords being tall and hot.
He drank a hot chocolate instead of coffee. What is he? A 6’4’’12-year-old? (I’m putting myself out there—this was my own reaction to an otherwise pleasant date just a few years ago.)
Yeah, he was tall, but his head seemed a little small for his body.
It was loud in there, so I’m not sure. Did I detect a stutter?
Boy, was he sweating!
He seems like someone who would like Star Trek.
I don’t care if he can’t see. He should have left those glasses at the office.
He was dancing (or worse, trying) way too hard.
These are actual quotes from the article. My interpretation of the author’s point:
You dumb bitches need to smarten up and realize that you’re no prize pig yourself. It ain’t enough dudes to go around in the first place so quit handicapping yourself with your unrealistic expectations. We know your shallow ass woulda seen the hole in that dude’s floorboard and ran the other way, we know it! Now stop being so blinded by them flashing lights and give a brotha a chance!
At least that’s how I interpreted it. But as we all know, what makes internet reading so enjoyable is not the writing itself which tends to be the domain of frustrated wannabe authors who will never get a book deal and short-fingered vulgarians to0 untalented and ugly to get their own reality show (witness yours truly). It’s the commentary after that makes the read worth it. As of today, we’re up to probably about 30 pages of comments (real number: 17 or so because the Root refuses to fix the issue which makes comments appear in triplicate). The comments were all over the place, but had two enduring themes:
1. Black women be materialistic and shallow as hell and that’s why we run off with white women. Sincerely, Black Man.
2. I ain’t dating no dude from the mailroom! You ni**as need to get yo’ shit togther. Holla. Sincerely, Black Woman
Meanwhile, over on belle’s blog, there was a post about “Settling,” with about the same general results. So, just for argument’s sake, let’s assume that black women are magically more materialistic or status-obsessed than gen pop. Let’s further assume we’re talking specifically about professional black women between say 22 and 35 with college degrees. This is just for the sake of argument, of course. Try not to flood my comment box with accusations that I’m one of the people always puttig down black women.
So let’s say I’m who I am. I’m (newly) single and on the prowl for a woman. Wife, GF, fuckbuddy, whatever, let’s just assume I’m seeking female companionship and thus seek to make myself as attractive as possible to the opposite sex.
Should I stunt?
I mean, according to the commentary, what women want are tall guys with money and unashy feet. Since I don’t wear mandals, let’s just assume that by the time they find out my general level of foot ashiness, it’s too late and they’re already naked. And while Kareem Abdul Jabbar I’m not, I’m tall enough that it’s not a strike against me. Now, the money issue. I’m not really liquid because I’m in grad school, but if we assume I’ll either have the same earning power or more than I did before I went to school, then that puts me in the top 15% or so of households, and for single black males, probably in the top low single digits. So do I stunt? Mind you, stunting for this particular crowd is a little different than stunting for oh, say, Plies’ crowd:
On another note, Plies disgusts me. Because he went to college. I’ve heard him speak regularly and he sounds very intelligent. But he’s fallen into this ridiculous trap of hiding one’s education and accomplishments to live out some white suburban teen’s hood fantasy of what it means to be black. Fucking disgusting.
But I digress. The accoutrements of bougie stunting are a little different, but it’s stuntin nonetheless. No, you can’t do a diamond-studded Jacob the Jeweler but a nice clasic Rolex Oyster or Omega Seamaster will definitely get you noticed. The girls in the know can tell that Z Zegna super 150’s or Canali from that Men’s Wearhouse shit. And let’s face it, everyone likes a nice car. Will it be that ethnic stereotype candy Hummer on 28’s as seen above? No. But the RR Sport or full sized Range, any BMW with an M in front of a single digit, or an AMG something or other will still let em know what’s up. How bout, say, something like this:
For all you fellow Mercedes haters out there (so very bland), maybe even something along these lines:
Will I get a better class of woman if I say, save a little less, and splurge a little more? When I go out to nightclubs, which is rare these days, should I just go ahead and get bottle service? Is this the way toward a more fulfilling dating life? I mean, to hear the commentary, the answer does seem to be yes. And we’re not talking about raping the 401k here, just maybe not maxing out the contribution. I don’t know the answer. Seriously, I’m asking. Little help. I’m interested in hearing folks’ thoughts on this issue.
I have a theory on why black people are so obsessed with showing off their earning power. It’s lack of trust. We’ve seen so much flim-flam from each other that unless we see something with our own eyes, we don’t believe it. If a guy says to you that he does this, that, or the other, you’ve heard the same lie so many times that it takes the acoutrements of that profession for you to believe it. I think this is why dudes wear suits to the club on Saturday. Like seriously, dude, it’s Saturday. No one believes you just left the office at 11:30 on SATURDAY wearing a three piece suit and a perfectly knotted half-windsor tie. But the suit is kind of a way to prove who you say you are. It adds credibility to your story. The car adds credibility to your narrative that you’re a successful person. It goes with the image. I’m not going to get into the whole building wealth vs. consumerism macro argument, that’s a whole different blog. I’m just trying to really figure out if, given what a million people are saying is true in relation to how picky black women are and how much they focus on external indicators of success, I should show it a little more. Will that make my dating life better?
In part 2, I’ll tell you a little about what my theory is and gice you some history to back it up. Have a great weekend.
Faithfully Yours,
B St. R
PS: here’s one more piece of car porn. I would kill seven orphans for this car (I mean, not really, but you get the point). I heart Techart
The Bad Life 