I HAVE THE MOTHER FREAKING SOLUTION FOR US SINGLE GIRLS (sarcasm)

Note: Please click the links in the article. 

Ok, back to business.

Are you:

Single?

A Black woman?

Over 15?

If you answered “yes” to all of these questions, then you’re likely desperate to get married.

College- educated?

Oh, you’re definitely desperate.

It doesn’t matter if you claim to have a boyfriend, a fiancé, you’re a lesbian, don’t want to get married or even in high school. You’re still single and worse, lonely, and worse still, unlikely to marry.  This is, of course, is based solely on the thoughts in my all-knowing head—not on like actual studies that say otherwise. I know all women—and girls too— want to be married not like right now, but like yesterday. It’s urgent like a motherf***er. I saw that ABC special where that one thirty-something woman said she cries into her pillow at night because she’s not married and I know that applies to every single Black woman—or girl—alive.

How do I know?

Because I think like a man.

So why aren’t you married yet? Because your standards are too damn high like rent in New York City. You have nerve to be employed, think for yourself and as desperately single as you are, the audacity to scoff at broken men, cheating men, weak men, men you have to support, down-low men, and even your last resort for marriage, bi-sexual men. You out here acting like being single is something to celebrate.

Girl, bye.

You’re miserable. And even worse, you got these good men with better things to do out here trying to work with you and dispense quality advice. These male relationship experts are trying to help difficult you “keep” somebody, and you ain’t been listening: Submit! Shut up! Cook! Clean! In heels! Every day!

F*** your bunions and your feminism too. Let a man lead you even if it’s into a damn hole. At least if you fall in and die, you would have a man—hopefully, your husband— by your side at your demise. Being Mrs. [it only counts if you take his last name] is all you should want to be remembered for anyway.

Unfortunately, it’s probably too late for all of you, especially if you’ve wasted prime husband-hunting years getting a diploma when you should have freed up your time to find a man by getting a GED.  All the hetero Black men alive and even not yet born have, are now or will be planning to marry White women.  And because in the history of mankind no desirable man of any other color has ever been really interested in a Black woman as a wife, you’re left only with one hope for marriage: women.

Yeah, I said it. Single Black women should marry each other.

Think of the benefits: you’ll be married!!! You’ll be married!!! You’ll be married!!!

This will work out well for lesbians because you know, all this time ya’ll have been settling for women because you couldn’t keep a man. But for the rest of you, it’s time to “turn” yourselves gay. It can’t be that hard since the millions-strong LGBT community just rolled over one morning when they hit puberty and decided to go against the grain. You can too!

Just go on and roll over.  Roll, dammit!

Now call your bestie, get on the plane and head to the nearest courthouse in one of the nine states where gay marriage is legal and jump that broom.

I know some of you are wondering, “but will I be happy with this arrangement?” Um… girl, you’re thinking small when you should be thinking big. Your happiness?  That doesn’t matter. You’re finally married! Black marriage solves everything.

“But what about Jesus,” you ask? God loves gays. (No sarcasm.)

Others of you may be wondering, “what about children?” Girl, stop. I read the comments sections on Black blogs and “listen” to Black men —the all knowing source of everything about Black women because of the woman they were raised by and those they’ve dated. You’re over 15, which means you probably have a few kids by now anyway. You and your new wife joining forces? It’ll be like The Brady Brunch. It’ll be fun!

If you so happen to be that one anomaly of a Black woman alive who doesn’t have an out-of-wedlock child? Just go buy one from Africa—white women do it all the time, and at least you’ll know how to do the kid’s hair.

You mad?

Of course, we are inherently more combative by birthright than other women (I watch TV so I know how we can be).  I’mma ask you to put down that bottle or phone you’re ‘bout to throw, and imagine what this could do for the statistics about single Black women. Like 99% of us who are of legal age to marry (ie, older than 15 in most places) could be married.

Boo, I’ve just singlehandedly solved the Black woman’s marriage crisis. You shouldn’t be fighting me; you should be awarding me the Nobel Peace Prize. However, a thank you will suffice.

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This Chick Says – Cuz She’s White!

jen the pen i'm white

On Monday night’s episode of Love & Hip Hop, blogger and struggling radio personality Jen the Pen said what some found unforgivable. During a contrived argument with a non-white cast member over whether Jen would make it onto NYC radio, Jen retorted, “I’m white. It will get done.”

Hear that?

It was the sound of the record skipping.

I had the show on as background noise while I was doing my taxes, and had to pause, turn, grab the remote, and rewind. It was a clip from the commercial. “Um, say what, white girl?”

I held my judgment until the full scene aired. In context, she wasn’t dead wrong for saying it. There were mentions throughout the episode of the other cast member referring to her as “my white” this or that.

As I predicted, Jen apologized almost before the show was off the air. It went:

Racist is the last thing I could EVER be. But being called an “entitled HONKY” on national [TV] is okay? Please be clear anything regarding race was heat on the moment, the devil will bring out the worst in you. This is what my family is made of, if my comments affected anyone I apologize.

Of course, anger is a valid excuse and it’s not like anyone ever says what they really think when they’re heated and in IDGAF mode. And you know, her family’s Black, right? So that absolutely absolves her of any chance at being a racist. (Insert side-eye.)

I’m actually not here to talk about whether she is racist or isn’t. What I do want to discuss is whether Jen was inaccurate.

Black Twitter was upset at her Monday night. Jen was ripped a new one for dangling her privilege the way some writers dangle participles. Her mentions? Shenanigans and shambles.

Were folk mad because you know, in “civilized” society, you don’t talk about privilege, you just accept the benefits of it — whatever yours are — pretend it doesn’t exist and stack while others struggle and futilely fight it. Is it that Jen flaunted what no white person is supposed to, especially not one raising a Black bi-racial child with a Black rapper. Or is it because she might have confirmed what many people of color think, or hell, know to be true about the privileges of whiteness?

Surely, I’m not the only one that was told by the Black elders that, in order to succeed, I needed to be twice as good to get half as far as my white counterparts. And surely again, I can’t be the only one who sat in the front row of a 101 college lecture hall watching a white professor draw diagrams of marginalization and see how far away from the center black was … and how being black and woman was one of the farthest rings.

In my kumbaya moments — i.e., when I’m willfully trying to not think too hard — it’s nice to pretend we’re all equals with the same opportunities if we all just did our best. But in two quick sentences, Jen just up and burst everybody’s “can’t we all just get along?” bubble.

Hearing her namedrop her privilege, was like a confirmation for every time you seemed to think an attractive Black man was running past you to get to the busted white girl and thought … well, you know what you thought. For every time the long-haired girl in front of you in class (or the elevator), flipped her hair inconsiderately just so, letting the breeze slapped your face and you wondered if you were overreacting. Every time you watched a mediocre white co-worker get promoted, and you sat, trying to hold it together and thinking, “Are you blankety-blank-blank kidding me?”

Nope, you weren’t crazy, boo. Thank Jen for confirming it for you.

She was wrong.

Maybe she’s racist.

But unfortunately? She was probably right.