My Black man

Being honest with others is not a problem for me. However, being honest with myself is. Since I’ve been single far longer than I care to meditate on, it has given me cause to reflect, visualize, change and grow. Maybe it’s because in less than 3 months I’ll be entering a new decade — my fourth decade, to be exact. But I can’t help but think about my Black man, the Black man that I can’t wait to appreciate!That’s right: I said it. I can’t wait to appreciate my Black man. I’ve listened to Mary J. Blige’s song “Feel Like A Woman” and cosign the lyrics, “I’m tired of being independent; I want to start depending on you.” If that makes me look soft, like a sucker, if it means I have to take down, so be it.

I want my Black man to know that I appreciate the labor he does in the world outside in order to strengthen the foundation of our world on the inside (of our home). I want him to know my eyes are for him only, as is my sashay, my smile, the scent upon my neck that causes him to transcend time.

My Black man, all that I am is for you. I’m not your enemy, but your ally. I want to love you, hold you, and console you, especially when carrying the burdens of a Black man is so heavy that your shoulder, neck and back ache. Let me work the kinks out of your life, or better yet, let me stand back, praise you, and edify you as you work them out.

Did I tell you that you are my hero? Lois may have her Clark Kent, and Jaime may have Steve Austin. But no superhero can compare to Bria’s Black man who is able to tell a mountain to be removed, has faith the size of a mustard seed, believes for the impossible, and knows whatever weapon is formed against him will not prosper. My Black man, without question I will follow you to the ends of the earth.

Thank you for living for me. So many people have been misguided by the cliché “I’ll die for you,” but will you really? It’s harder to live for me, seeing past my faults, mistakes, and flaws. Apologizing when it was I who erred. I agree, what good is it to die for me when we promised to spend an eternity together?

My Black man, I am here as your lover, your friend, confidante, compadre, shadow, helpmeet, critic, tie straightener, crumbs remover, hair analyst, spell checker, sounding board, temple massager, your ottoman — whatever you need me to be, so I shall be to you. I appreciate you not for anything other than who you are.

The questions raised are: Are you ready for me? Can you handle unconditional love, laughter, joy, hand-holding, butterfly kisses, a word in kind, passionate loving, heated words, spirited debates, stick-in-stay, til-death-do-us-part, lifetime partners, undying loyalty, zaniness, walks in the rain, unity, exchanging looks and not saying a word. Can you handle success?

No, no, shhhhh, don’t speak just yet. Take some time before giving your answer. Search the depths of your soul, become naked in your very own eyes, and let Truth have her way.

Forever, I am available to you. I honor you. I revere you. I appreciate you.
But most of all, my Black man, I love you.

Bria