Consciousness Rising

I titled this blog about consciousness rising because we are unconscious. We, as a female people, are unconscious to the subliminal traps being laid out at our feet. We don't simply walk into this trap, we dance our way, happily into the trap and are grateful to be there. Twerk our way into the joy of "love" found in the club. Why? Because Usher says love in the club is good and Beyonce agreed?

Let me tell you something that people have known for generations, that you have probaly heard before. No big epiphany: sex sells. People write what sells, sing what sells, portray what sales. It is a natural human reaction to want to be with someone else, to be part of a couple. To know that some other human being loves us more than any other human. So we join into mating rituals, we go where other humans will be, where we can display our attractiveness and hope that someone's pheromones want to mate with us.

Courtship begins in a dancehall to a song that queries if you want to get "down with the tool in his pants". That is tempting and gets you up, moving around, gyrating and happy. Of course, if that doesn't inspire you, your wannabe suitor can be more direct and simply demand, "go get up in dis ride." At which point you swoon, falling into his arms, desperately in love, ready to bare him a boy child.

He's just being silly when he calls you a ho, which to alleviate confusion, is short for 'whore'. You know, people who have sex for compensation. But, bitch, don't be sensitive. He just playing wityoass. I mean, how can you doubt it? Your relationship began with such respect. In case there is doubt, I'm being sarcastic.

I would caution you not to be surprised when your one night stand doesn't become your husband, but your baby daddy. Of course, he's totally to blame. Can't he see what a good woman you are? Niggas just don't appreciate shit! Think of all the meaningful conversations you've had. No? You shared your dreams and goals, right? Talked about putting God first and yadda yadda yadda? No.

Oh. Well. You had a great time, I'm sure, at the club of your choice. When he sang along with the song, calling you out of your name, that shit was hot! Talk dirty, daddy. Except he was serious. You are his whore. When he sees you, he sees a bitch, not his wife. All he wanted was to make you "say ayy". Brag about you to his friends, then move on to the next female willing to bobble head in his lap.

You were a top notch bitch. Unfortunately, that makes you a bottom of the barrel lady to most men. Lady, to be a lady, the character you portray is vital. I don't know any man who wants to walk into a room where half the men in the room know what his lady is like in bed. Who wants to hear,  "Man, has she done that tongue thing for you yet?"

I'm not saying you can't like a song, just don't live the lyrics. That's like choosing to be a gangster because you see Scarface. That makes no sense, right? So why put yourself out there as a slut because of a hard beat and a tight hook. Music is catchy and wonderful, and I can't imagine my life without my personal soundtrack blaring in my ears. The problem is when I become a "rack city bitch".

All I want is for us as a people, as a female nation to love ourselves. Love yourself. If noone has ever loved you, love yourself. Set standards for yourself and hold yourself accountable to them. I'm not going to tell you to think of a child or a parent, or blah blah blah. Think of yourself and do whatever you do or don't for yourself. Live and respect yourself for you. Whomever else benefits from it, great for them, but do it for you.