An Apology.

Black women, on behalf of Black men, I apologize. Where I’m from, a man’s better half is often called his wisdom. I find that to be quite ironic, seeing how men have struggled with the utility of information since the dawn of time; be it biblical, spiritual, scientific or otherwise. Before the European influx of patriarchal society, we were obsessed with our own ego. Born out of a lack of relativity as it pertains to our world, we became consumed with exploration, conquering, and staking claim on what we perceived to be new found territory. Through cultures that never crossed paths, ran an acute commonality: Ownership. We all existed on the same land, but within the jostle for power, we were haunted by the need to know WHOSE land it was. This, I cannot blame on our colonial enslavers, for the error started long before that and only expanded with their influence. From that point, moving into the space of recorded history, we’ve used every divisive tactic possible to boast our idea of ourselves and our purpose in this world.

As our understanding of this world grew in scope, we stayed steadfast on our ego-feast, building up more and more reasoning behind our claims of power. But we forgot about the most natural power that has ever existed (or maybe were so scared of the power of woman that we sought to diminish it.) Out of that fear, we stamped out most traces of any matriarchal evidence which would lead back to the fact that creation is our species’ greatest gift, the world’s greatest gift, and the female is the only creator of life on the Earth. They must be God, or the embodiment of God in this physical plane. Unable to comprehend that AND maintain our egos in the same thought, we chose the latter, putting our faith in physical prowess which has all but been negated by the great equalizer that is technology (that information struggle again).

Somehow amidst this glaring truth we still wonder why the current world climate is as chaotic as it’s ever been. The most beautiful fruit in the world, from the exterior, is nothing if the core is rotten, and all perceived advancement in this world is futile unless we begin to deprogram out egotistic tendencies. I realize that, even in this admission, lies residue of that very ego, a wish to elevate the black woman so we can all rise as a result, but I refuse to stand idly by as almost every other door of potential has been opened except for the one I know has the power of 1,000 suns. Black men have been scarred by the ills of the world, left with no frame of reference to regain their intrinsic power, and the spirit of the black family has been left to rot due to neglect of the power of black women.

What could reverse these fortunes? Strong examples of love are necessary, and while understanding the concept of love from a bond across racial divides is a gift within itself, the visage of a nuclear black family in love is paramount to instilling the type of hope needed to inspire generations to come. A friend once said to me, “Black men need to start loving Black women and Black women need to stop hating Black men”, and I completely agreed. We never learned HOW to love Black women. We denied the spiritual essence involved in clear decision-making, something Black women are incredible  with, and stooped to merely monetizing things with little to no respect for the viewpoints of the women in our lives.

It all feels so greedy to me. We (Black men) let ourselves get enraptured by status, class, and superiority, thinking that that was our only way to a sense of value. In days when the world was smaller and information was scarce, I believe this train of thought was a way for meager men to attain an air of value amongst some of the stronger natural forces in the world. Now that the world has expanded exponentially, it’s time to deprogram ourselves. I’ll step out on the limb, I’ll take ownership for the faulty logic of Black men, and I’ll proclaim with all honesty, I’m sorry Black Women. Help me help you, because I don’t have the answers, only the will.