*said no one ever* Or did we? I have been mulling over the topics of this most recent blog post for a few weeks now. I’m sure you have as much going on in my life. I have the words of Guy Hendrick’s book The Big Leap on replay as I go about my days. However, I’ve had a few serendipitous events occur in the last few days that sent me flying to my laptop with the same fury a pregnant lady attacks her latest craving. I will describe these events below and you can let me know your thoughts.
The first event being that I watched a YouTube video about Cardi B being asked if she was a good role model. You can watch the video here https://youtu.be/oGVtqvIs7Xw
It’s quite entertaining AND enlightening. The interviewer asked her if she should be a role model for young girls. Bluntly and straight to the point as only Cardi can, she says that parents are responsible for their children and they should strive to live in a way where their children can look up to them. Hold dem breaks! I know you didn’t see that one coming because I sure didn’t.
Fast forward to the second incident that happened earlier today. I was with a young mama and her first born. I overheard her calling her daughter, “aww you’re such a sexy ho.” Her baby is 7 months old.
*crickets* I’m going to let that sink in for a second. How is it that Cardi B can recognize the value of parenting and role models but this young mama can’t?
I would like to think that I am a progressive mamacita. I don’t drive a soccer mom minivan, wear a fuzzy loon sweater that is tucked into my pleated mom pants hicked up under my saggy tits circa 1992. I’d like to think my babies can talk to me about the things that matter to them… like how I was more interested in why one of my babies (between 7-10) was so enraged that they had to say fuck at school in front of a teacher than I am about them saying the actual word fuck. So has my language and advocacy of free speech evolved enough that a mama should be able to call her daughter whatever she wants?
My answer is a resounding no. For me, words have power. They aren’t just words. It’s not like talking to a dog where as long as you are talking in a nice voice, you
can say whatever maniacal things come to mind. Do you remember the ole’ school adage, stick and stones may break my bones…. oh wait. Words DO hurt. Ever heard of bullying? Cyber bullying? “slut” shaming?
I’d like you to tell a man he has a small dick and see if those words don’t haunt him and whomever he has subsequent relationships with from there on out. He will NEVER unhear those words.
In the black community, there is constant debate over the use of the “N” word; you remember Oprah’s town hall meetings? Why would Oprah host these meetings if it was just another word. For the most part, we are aware of connotations surrounding words. If your bestie calls you a biiiiiiiiiiish, due to societal norms, you would most likely take it as a compliment. If a man is yelling at you in the clurrrrrrb and calls you a b*tch, how many of your best galpals and those we had just met at the bar while bonding in the bathroom or while flagging the busy bartender down are we enlisting to rally and fight this douche and his friend, Mike? (We all know a douchebag named Mike, and since this is a douchy story, let’s assume Mike showed up- with a pornstache for effort).
For me, and I hope for you as well. Words matter. If you don’t believe me, as a husband who’s wife has just asked if she looks sexy in her dress if words matter. We have choices. We have the choice to call our fellow ladies bad b*tches. We have the choice to call them a goddess. A queen. A sunshine in your life. While I applaud and encourage sexual liberation in any and all forms, I would rather be a goddess than a sexy ho any day. What about you?