LOVE… another four letter curse word?

When contemplating the age old questions concerning that four letter word one may wonder “what exactly is the big deal?” To say it aloud may not offend but in the wrong context it is sure to curse. The reference here ladies and gentlemen is love, or more specifically romantic love.  

As a 23 year old African American woman in modern America I am faced with the realization that biological clocks are ticking inside of me. “Oh Lord…” you might say “You are too young for all of that.” But let’s throw out a tentative blue print for life.

I want a fairly simple fairytale- nothing too extreme, just bills paid on time, soccer practices with fresh cut orange slices, a puppy, comfy home/vehicle, beautiful kids and a prince charming to share it all with but the state of Black America ( to which I belong) is throwing some serious road blocks in my way ya’ll!

The birth of the “video vixen” has made the beauty of the average female seem way too regular. Objects of desire are now half-clothed Barbie dolls of undistinguishable ethnicity with loose morals and a vampire thirst for material possessions that depreciate in value as soon as they get their sugar daddy to fork up the cash to buy them.

A great amount of our men are disrespectful. Lyrics to our hip hop love songs are explicitly detailing lewd sexual acts and our children are watching all of this on television when their not tuned in to radio stations and taking notes. Yes music is a form of self expression but no one is singing about mommy and daddy in love and married anymore…like marriage is not an option. Why are men more apt to ask us to have their baby than to marry them?

I want it back…the Heathcliff Huxtable, the dependable, kind, sincere man with ambition and drive. I want my future daughter to love her daddy more than any man she ever meets, not wonder if she’ll ever meet him. I want my future son to have the support of a strong man he looks up to not a boy, two or three years older than him that he met on the corner.

Do not misinterpret my angst. I know they exist. I know there are many Positive Black Men, strong and beautiful inside and out- it’s just all these frogs out here standing in front of the princes and the overly sexed song on the radio making them horny enough to procreate . So in the words of Al Green let’s stay together Black America. Love each other, have faith and work on real relationships, give and take and support one another. Protect your health for the good of your community and remember when love was “drifting on a memory” and “staying in my corner”.

By: Ambre Tomlinson