“It’s no disgrace to be Black, but it’s often inconvenient.”
~ James Weldon Johnson
I simply love Black men. It is more than love … it is complete respect and adoration for these men. Their swagger. Their strength. Their prowess. Their pride. Their intelligence. Their ability to overcome time and time again the flagrant fouls thrown against them and their continued ability to stand tall and rise from the ashes stronger, wiser, and prouder.
I learned about the strength, influence and need for Black men from the example set by my father at an early age. Like all humans, he was not perfect, but he was there every day of my young life. He was present, he was interactive, he was loving, he was smart, and he laid a solid foundation for his four daughters and his only son. I did not know then that having my father in the home for my entire childhood would be as beneficial to me later in life as it has been. I also did not know how much it would cripple me emotionally on many complicated levels.
My heart aches for and is wide open to the soul of a Black man. Open to his heart, his pain, his struggles, his love … open to all the good and bad of him. To the truth of him. I aspire to offer all of me to a Black man. All my loyalty, my friendship, my support, my knowledge, my kindness, and my unwavering and endless love. This is sometimes a difficult feat due to the soul crushing social pressures, deep emotional distress, rate of imprisonment, self-hate, and numerous fear- based, racially charged obstacles plaguing Black men in American society. Yes, it is difficult, but my father didn’t raise a quitter and I will never give up on connecting on a higher level with a Black man.
I have never been married, but I strive to find my life partner. My parents were married for fifty-one years before the death of my father. It wasn’t an easy marriage, but it was a loving, lifelong union fraught with the ups and downs any relationship brings. I learned what a marriage should and should not be from them. I witnessed their delightful times, and the times things got a little too real. I admired their steadfast commitment to keeping their family together by any means necessary. No matter how hard it got, I enjoyed growing up as a complete family unit, with my parents and my siblings under one roof soaring off the highs and growing from the lows.
My father was my very first example of a strong, smart, flawed, proud Black man. I realize how lucky I was to have him in my life as an example of what a man is, what a father is and what it meant to be Black in America. I realize that not everyone was as fortunate as I to experience this type of rearing, and it shaped who I am now – the good and the bad of me. It shaped my ideals regarding relationships, my attitude towards Black men and my ultimate appreciation and understanding of them.
I was also lucky enough to have so many fine examples of Black men in my life growing up; from my uncles I spent summers with, to my cousins, close male family friends, my awesome brother, and even the men I’ve chosen to date throughout my life. They all had a hand in defining the image of a Black man and left impressions on me that have lasted my lifetime. I am grateful to each and every Black man who left their footprint on my heart.
My admiration for Black men is fully warranted and will not wane. I will continue to support them, befriend them, and love them wholly and completely until I leave this earth. They deserve my loyalty and trust. They have earned the right to be held in the highest regard.
Sadly, in so many ways, they continue to be underappreciated beings in this world we live in. I will continue to use my voice, my platform, and my heart to raise awareness of the inherent need for their wisdom in every area of life. Black men built America. Let’s put some respect on their names!