This is an interesting song... I really like it.
This is an interesting song. I personally like that it isn't the typical booty shake song. I'm to old for that and could care less about such. And you've read here long enough, you know I like a good beat and melody.
And it's a song that brings up interesting subject matter:
What if all the black women just up and poof... disappeared?
And why would anyone ever pose a question?
You know why. Because we are villified. We are sometimes looked at in a negative light.
Any which way you look at it, we are not held up on a pedestal like a white woman.
So Jill poses the question to a brother. I suppose those brothers who love themselves some white women.
Now I myself don't care who is with who. Maintaining a healthy relationship, both people being the same race or of different race, is paramount. Maintaining. It takes 2 people who love themselves. That surpasses race.
That's just my opinion.
And it pains me to be with a bunch of black women somewhere, and a brother walks in with a white woman on his arm.
Man, the huffs and puffs and cuss words under the breath rumble like low thunder. And what was once a good time turns into a mess.
And we aren't mad you see. We aren't pissed.
We're just hurt.
We weren't good enough for that brother.
Nevermind that we are a powerful group. POWERFUL and NECESSARY and of HIGH WORTH. (Well that's how I view myself. I reject anything different. We must learn to love ourselves... really).
I myself have TRAINED myself for many many years to think otherwise. My first thought will ALWAYS be... there are two people there who are in love. And they are together. I have no right to assume anything. That would be wrong.
I made a conscious decision years ago to feel that way. I refuse to get myself all stressed out.
That is the proper way to view it for me. If that's not the case, i.e., this brother is with this white woman, and she is a trophy, he hates black women, thinks we are all crazy, and it makes him feel good about himself to have a white woman... then...
We have a man with a self-esteem problem.
And honestly, who wants to deal with that, especially if he doesn't recognize it within himself and doesn't honestly work on it?
You and I don't want him. Becky can have him.
Trust me: HE WILL EVENTUALLY BECOME A PROBLEM FOR BECKY.
Hear me now and believe me later on that. Believe that.
That's just my personal view. Yours may be different. Everyone has a different take on these things. You must admit though, that they are painful things for many black women to talk about. Many of us have no one, and feelings can erupt like a volcano.
Anyway, this song reminded me of a convo I had with my brother when he was in high school. It was funny, but at the same time it wasn't because I meant what I said.
He asked me one day, "How would you feel if I dated a white girl?"
My self trained answer was "Well, if that's who you like or love, and she makes you happy, then good. If you're happy, I'm good. You can't worry about what people say. Be happy, man," I said.
"Okay," he said.
"However," I said. I peered at him over the top of my glasses, which had slid down on my nose. "Don't you forget, we were the ones who raised you, changed your diapers, took care of you when you were sick, and made sure you lived day to day."
"Okay," he said.
"Now," I continued. "Whoever you love is who you love. Black, white, indian, asian, mexican, Martian, whatever. That's what's important."
"Okay," he said with a head nod.
"Now if you walk up in my house with a white woman on your arm and you think you all that because you have a white woman, and you expect me to wait on her hand and foot, and I pick up on this, we gonna have problems. You and your white woman will end up head first in that fireplace."
My brother had a look of shock on his face.
I meant what he said. I don't like tomfoolery and drama. At all.
I haven't had a problem with the boy at all. I know he has dated white girls. One lived in a trailer park, and her family fit that trailer park stereotype. Let's just say nicely that uh... they didn't like the young negro.
I asked him a question... "Is it worth it?"
A question that really has nothing to do with race really. A good question to ask ourselves if we are caught up in some ratchetness.
He said no.
A good answer.
I could go on, but I won't.
This song by Jill Scott is some good music.
Good music makes me ponder. We don't have much current music that forces you to form a thought in your head. Much of it is chewing gum for the brain. Either that or I'm getting old.
This song is no chewing gum. It had me thinking long after the last notes of the the song have been sung.
And that's a good, satisfying thing.
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