i noticed that

his hair is tough like my fathers. in all of my 26 years, he’s only been around for less than 2 percent of it all and somehow, the care, patience, and understanding he has shown me has far surpassed what i’ve received from my father during my entire lifetime.

i noticed that she reminds me of my grandmother. the way she plans ahead without announcing her doings. she walks cautiously. she speaks carefully. the things she doesn’t know she asks about with appreciation and passion, unafraid of revealing her unfamiliarity and eager to gain more knowledge.

friendships are flowers — in order to appreciate a full bloom, we must be present for all the moments in between.

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GTFOHWTB

Too often, I’ve met these types. Sometimes I’ve loved them. I wanted to do so. They were allowed to be loved, of course. However, I’ve used all my allowances. I will no longer allow myself to drain my energy trying to make the world a better place by attempting to teach man-boys about spectrums. I am a retired instructor/therapist at the “International Fuckboi Rehabilitation Center”. 

So, to speak on “these types”, the fuckbois… The man-boys who like to portray themselves as enlightened and understanding. They like to portray themselves as the “Love Wins, BLM, Black Girl Magic, Pro Black, Woke…etc” intellectual, free spirit, artsy type. They are attracted to my boldness and shaved head. My mystery. They like to comment on my strength and how it’s so becoming. They like to tell me that I’m beautiful with such context that suggests that I needed affirmation from them, because oh of course, they make the rules & determine what’s beauty. I fucking know I have star power already. Then somehow, they will try to tear me down, when I challenge some absurd comment that slips from their lips. They have said “that’s just how men talk”. They will then be taken aback when I am not moved by their sweet nothings which reflect the instinctual arousal of their flesh. I am otherworldly, sir. Do better. I am not stimulated by your penial banter that you mask with predictable prose.

They will try to challenge my abstinence and my sensuality; as though the two can’t coexist. They have tried to manipulate me as a result of their own insecurities, because they wanted to control me with such cruel efflictim. I still can’t believe that they believe I love my breasts because they fantasize about them. No, you imbiscle. I love them because they are apart of me. It’s just that simple. 

They have tried to judge me because my complexities made them uncomfortable because it was not a part of their bullshit formula on how I should behave. I have disappointed many. I have offended many. I have only grown to love myself and the many undefinable ways I can be woman, black, and human.

Goddess.

I watched this piece & felt so loved — so understood. I truly want to forward this to everyone on the planet. Let’s translate this to every language. I would cc the fuckbois first. They need to see this urgently. Watch this overwhelmingly accurate piece, directed & written by Cecile Emeke, a woman of color using film to provoke & inspire ~

fake deep | cecile emeke