Protection & Providing are Earned

By:  Black Conservative (@BlackConservative93)

Nothing is more tiresome than hearing the famous Malcolm X quote on how unprotected black women are in America. It trumpets the needed call black men have to put up with when black women get into a jam. I say put up with as in other words, a burden to society.

The irony that black girls/women want protection from the very men they hate is a clear indication of why the black community is so confused and backwards. I noticed this behavior from my mother way before I was hip to the black gender war. She divorced my father and separated to move to a nowhere ass town. It was her, my brothers, and me living together in a small two bedroom apartment. As the middle child, I was my mother’s ambassador when it came to disputes between my parents.

My mother hated my father, yet she used me to beg for money when child support was not enough. My mother was too uppity to talk to him straight up, let alone to talk him on the phone, yet she had the biggest mouth on how he was a shitty father when that was not true. My father looked out for me and my mother despite her ignorance. He even offered his old residence when he was in the military. She refused and continued to beg for money to pay her rent. Protecting my mother was an uphill battle because her own ignorance was working against her.

See you thought protecting black women was about fighting some white boogie man, yet the bigger picture and problem is that black women create their own demons and vices against black men that black men have to deal with for their entire lives. My mother’s own worst enemy is herself. She loves the blame game and manipulating her sorrow as a priority over anyone else. When I was a black boy no older than 15 years old, my mother used me as a potential meal ticket in hopes to get a house through me because getting one from my father meant he was right and by God, she could not let him win or get one over her. Visiting my mother was once a fun family moment of watching black tv shows to now a nightmare of everything wrong with me.

I am a grown man, yet she fails to see that I am a man. This means work has its priorities so for starters my phone is not always free for small talk or begging for money. One missed call turns to phone blasting of multiple calls one after another and then a layover of angry messages to follow. Her obsession with getting my attention mirrors that of a girlfriend. My social life must include her or she will get jealous and let out of the conversation. Her earliest offense was she caused me and my former best friend (from a school program) to stop hanging out. She went behind my back to talk to him and ask if I was desperate for a friend. She then stalked me at the mall to make sure I did not order any fast food. She came up to me with weakened eyes and said I was out of pocket for being a careless son. Meanwhile, I am confused on how I offended her when I told her I was going to the mall.

She could not let it go and continued to use it against me. The worst incident was when I had to report back to work for a wellness check. The drive was 5 hours and I ended leaving later than expected for my return home. Traffic was bad as usual in the daytime as everyday I witness a wreck which is why I drive late at night. Anyways, my father was the next state over. I ended up missing the city he was in so that meant me driving an extra hour to get to him. I was hit with multiple calls and messages from my mother asking when will I be home. I did not know, but I did not understand the hassle. I was not expected to do anything at home anyways.

My dad and I talked about how we could get my mother a house. She would not move to Texas, but she can stay in the same city if that’s what she wants. Getting her a house was essential, but my mother needed her income and that low paying custodial job was not cutting it. My father threw the idea of adoption. Yet, I shot down the idea because my mother is stubborn and does not really have a natural personality of affection. Her life is boring and I feared that the child would be a latchkey kid with no friends like me back then.

My father felt sorry for putting my mother first, especially when I did not want to deal with the responsibility of a grown woman. My father told me the times of how my mother was once a woman. It did not make sense to me. I did not see her as an angel. It’s sad because almost 2 decades ago I tried seeing the humanity in her. The sad thing about my limited imagination was that I could not take my mother’s emotions seriously, even when it is real. I thought she had crocodile tears during the funeral of my grandmother.

Children should not have to feel that their mother’s emotions are fake. My mother never challenged herself. She never pursued an education. Instead, my little brother and I had to sacrifice our fun for her misery and ignorance. This was not the conversation my father wanted, but he could not help me when was a raggedy kid in the 00s who had a bad haircut and fucked up Payless shoes.

He wanted to talk about my sex and dating life, I did not had because of her.