Luenell Pulled Al B. Sure! And Folks Are Big Mad
The Problem Isn’t Luenell Dating Al B. Sure!—It’s Society’s Fear Of Unapologetically Curvy Black Women Over 60 Still Being Sexy And Desired [Op-Ed]
When Luenell and Al B. Sure! popped out with their relationship, the internet did what it does best—got loud, got rude, and got real comfortable policing something that did not ask for its approval.
The jokes came fast. The think pieces came faster.
Age.
Size.
Looks.
Desirability.
Respectability.
Everything weaponized, as if two grown folks did not know exactly what they were doing, who they were doing it with, or why they were doing it.
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To be clear, this is not about a huge age gap. Nine years is barely a blink when you are over 50. This is about ageism dressed up as concern. Body shaming disguised as humor. Luenell is 66, and Al B. Sure! is 57; it is not even controversial. It is not an Epstein file. Unless you have been conditioned to believe women expire, we lack desirability because of size, and love only counts when it is visually approved by strangers equipped with lagging Wi-Fi and audacity, of course, because if the trolls have nothing else, they have THEE AUDACITY.
As a woman of a certain age—and by certain, Auntie is a proud 48-year-old who has never fit society’s narrow, tired-ass standards. And honestly, I never wanted to—I have a great amount of disdain for ignorance. I have never chosen a partner based on what the world thought looked good on my arm. I choose connection. I have always said, “My men are mid-ugly.” For those unfamiliar with hood vernacular, that means he is neither overly handsome nor a boogerwolf.
Kindness. Emotional intelligence. The ability to show up consistently without needing a manual. Able to provide. Willing to be Alpha and allow me to exist softly. I mean the one whose attitude is solid, whose energy is high, and who knows how to make me feel feminine, sexy, safe, and loved. If you can do that? Baby, I can rock with you. Every time! Because pretty fades. Presence does not.
Love should be soul food, even if it does not look like eye candy. And while physical attraction is not the enemy of love, pretending it is the admission price is a scam we’ve all bought into. Chemistry has many layers. Our desire ever evolves. Our need for connections deepens. And that can never be measured by a mirror or a comment section. And here is the part folks really are not ready for: as Gen Xers, we are redefining what love looks like. More importantly, what it feels like.
We ain’t auditioning for romance. We want peace. Now, that is some sexy ish. Good sex, honest conversations, laughter that comes easily, and a partner who does not drain our spirit or attempt to leave us bitter or broken. We have lived enough life to know that looking good together means nothing if it feels bad. We understand through trial and error that struggle love is never pretty, even if the picture is painted that way.
What unsettles people about Luenell and Al B. Sure! is not their relationship—it is the reminder that love does not have a look. It never did. It is the audacity of a woman they deemed imperfect, unpretty, and too old to pop out with some fine ish. Maybe it is watching a woman being bolder than them. Her refusing to shrink, apologize, or disappear? Her being visibly desired? Her being what every woman wants—to be chosen? Her being worthy and knowing it? Things that challenge the idea that told her and so many other women that she should be quiet, grateful, and invisible. An idea crafted by imperfect people who lack the same approval they deny.
When I see Luenell happy, I see what I wish for all women because we deserve it. I see joy without recognition or jealousy. I see life without limits. I see love that is so loud, not even Beats can cancel the noise. Love that can stretch wider than her hips and age with the same grace she personifies because that is what we all deserve. Not because we are rich enough to buy it, but because we are wise enough to manage it.
Here’s what’s most important for women like Luenell. Understanding that you are too big for the box society wants to place you in. Acknowledging with pride that you are too old of a cat to play kitten. Oh, and the crown that you were given to wear on your head will never be as grand as the crown your heart carries.
Sis, allow these jealous people to make jokes and throw shade, but never offer them company in their misery. Be loud. Be bold. Be unapologetic. Be whatever you choose to be on your own terms.
So yeah, two adults found joy, companionship, chemistry, and hopefully some bomb-ass sex. The rest is noise. And honestly? They can keep it.
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