This is a fictional dialogue that grew out of a real conversation between myself and my friend Lisa Maria Carroll.
SisterGirl: You’re supposed to be a man and lead. Why won’t you stand up and occupy your rightful place . . .
BrotherMan: You’re right, baby, you right. . . . OK, let’s get ready to go . . .
SisterGirl: You don’t tell me what to do, buster, @#!@#! You’re not the boss of me!
SisterGirl: OK, first, where we going? See, ’cause I promised myself and God that after the last man led me astray, I wasn’t gon’ follow nary another. But I do want a man who is committed to God — a strong man, a leader, not a follower.
BrotherMan: Sorry, sister, I’d rather be by myself. You’re too HBC: Hurt, Bitter and Complicated.
SisterGirl: I’m not bitter! You must have me confused with one of them hood-rat chicks you’re used to messing with. And that’s what I’m saying right there: Y’all would rather mess with women y’all can control than come correct to a strong, independent, Black woman.
BrotherMan: Really? Really? No, what I want is a woman who doesn’t think that she’s the King and I’m the Queen. And oh, I got your hood rat. At least all they want is a little cheddar!
SisterGirl: A REAL man already knows he’s the King, and doesn’t have to be validated by any woman.
BrotherMan: Go ahead then. Be strong, independent, black and a woman. Be all you can be. And be by yourself! I mean, I can’t get no respect, then you turn around and do whatever your pastor says.
SisterGirl: Don’t you dare bring my beloved pastor into this. He got the type of marriage I’m praying God will bless me with someday. He just bought the First Lady that new champagne Caddy CTS coupe, and she be fly e-ve-ry Sunday. Wha-a-a-t?
BrotherMan: See, you trippin’ now. Maybe he bought her that Caddy to make up for being some other sister’s baby daddy . . . ha! Look, you’re confused. You don’t want a man. You want a boy — someone you can boss around; a toy — someone who will only bring you pleasure; a showpiece — someone for holidays and special occasions — the final piece of your picture-perfect puzzle. Not a real man, one who thinks and disagrees with your butt sometimes, but who still loves you completely. Don’t go chasing waterfalls . . . .
SisterGirl: Just so you know, Mis-ter, I gots my boy-toy that I keeps in my back pocket until a REAL man comes along. I can’t take him to church or around my family, because he’s not as polished as I would like him to be. But he handles his-s-s. Know what I’m saying?
BrotherMan: And how’s that workin’ for ya? Bwaaaaahahaha!
Sister: Honestly? I don’t hold out much hope for him because he’ll never be on my level. But with so many black men in prison, on the down-low or openly gay, we black women have to settle for what’s left.
BrotherMan: You know what? I can do good all by myself. Shee-ee-eesh . . .
SisterGirl: Naw, I think you’ll do like all the other brothers and go get you a white girl, because we’ll NEVER be good enough for you.
Bruh Man: You took the words right outta my mouth! . . . So many hurt and bitter sisters leave us no choice. But I’m holding out hope for my beautiful black queen . . . just not you, honey child. Deuces, I’m out.
SisterGirl: Before you cross that color line, remember that there wouldn’t be so many hurt sisters, if it weren’t for black men.
BrotherMan: Yeah, starting with your no-good daddy! Look, no man can heal all your hurts and issues that were there long before we even showed up. Yet you blame all of us, in some cases, for what you allowed a man to do to you. I’m gon’ pray for you, sister, for real. Peace.
SisterGirl: Whatever, dude. Bye!