To The Brothas…

June 4, 2011  |  

Just today, on Twitter GQPhive asked if he could pose a question. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but here at Madame Noire we are all about the questions; so of course, I was game to hear what he had to say.

His question was this: “How many black men do black women RESPECT?”

He was referring to you, our readers and especially those of you who comment. He said some of the sentiments expressed in the comments section make him wonder.

Umph.

He went on to say he doesn’t want the site to become “a breeding ground for bitter, black women. That aura will ruin the site’s momentum.”

I agree.

While many of us have endured some mess at the hands of a black man, bitterness is not the mental mindset we have to adopt. We can choose otherwise.  Truth be told, most of us, despite the bitterness, still respect black men.

I know I do. So I’ll take this time to expound here. If you feel the same, please be sure to leave a comment.

How many black men do I respect?

When I was younger I loved black men. And fortunately ain’t nothin’ changed. I can’t even begin to count the number of black men I not only respect but love, genuinely.

Of course it began with my father, the protector, provider and playmate. I knew from an early age that we, my sister, mother and myself were my father’s top priority, his “precious cargo” on road trips, his motivation for putting up with foolishness at work and the reasons he came home at night.

The man set the standard.

If, for the rest of my life, I encounter nothing but disrespectful, unkind, low-class, uneducated, apathetic black men, I’ll never write them all off because I’ll always have what my father has been and continues to be for me, as his daughter and friend.

And my dad is just one. I have grandfathers, uncles, cousins, friends, homie-lover-friends, acquaintances and virtual strangers who consistently make me proud of black men.

Our president is a black man, the man who told me, I was beautiful with no expectations was a black man. The dude I saw patiently helping his son with homework on the train was a black man. The man who developed the program for little black boys in my neighborhood is a black man.

Good, respectable, loveable black men are everywhere. You need only turn off your tv, tune out the bitter women, open your eyes and look.

Who are the black men in your lives who are about the right? Shout ‘em out…in the comments section.

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