This discussion should not be construed to imply that black women need a black man in their lives.  Indeed, there are black women who are lesbian, committed to white men, in prison and single by choice.  What is important is that black women have fewer choices than their white counterparts when it comes to the availability of men.

Many books and magazines feature articles about these numbers.  Some black men even take perverse advantage of it.  Often black women get angry about it.  I have heard black women say, 

“Men are a luxury” and “I don’t need a man in my life”.  

This may or may not be true, and in some cases Cinque’s sons reinforce these ideas by their actions toward women.  

I have heard black men brag about the fact that their choices of women are vast because they are “in demand”.  My megalomaniacal brothers who say such things have no anchoring in African traditions that seek balance rather than power in their male-female relationships.  They are psychologically immature when it comes to conducting a healthy relationship with women, and see women as things to be manipulated rather than persons to be cherished.

The bitterness that many black women feel towards black men in many cases is rightly deserved.  Brothers can do better, but often don’t.  They rationalize their misogyny in rap lyrics that degrade black women by saying that this is what “the Sisters want to hear”, or black men referring to women as female dogs, strengthens the alienation between them. Moreover, by viewing a black women as “a bitch” puts her even lower than the “dawg” black men “affectionately” call each other.

At a recent speaking engagement at a historically black college, several young black men just entering the Winter years of their life rationalized the use of the terms “bitch”, “dawg” and “nigga” despite very vocal protestations from the women in the audience.  The men were firm in their belief that these terms were endearing and showed affection for themselves and “their women”.  Only a handful of black men in the audience objected to their use and these men were derided for being “punks”.  One woman in the audience looked pleadingly at me and said that this is why there are so many problems between black men and black women because we are not listening to each other.  Her words rang true and I asked her what could be done to improve the communication.  She said that we simply don’t listen to each other, because we already have our minds made up about where each other is coming from.  I agreed.

As the new millennium begins there is little listening and even less communicating occurring between black men and black women.  Perhaps the sheer gap in numbers forces us to talk about and not listen to each other.  One female told me during a Kwanzaa celebration:

“Sisters don’t have enough black men to ‘practice’ on in the most basic interactions.”  

I asked her what she meant and she said that black women have to imagine what black men feel, think and do because there simply aren’t enough to teach each other what being a black man is all about.  She went on and compared learning about black men with learning to swim:  you can read all the books in the world about it but you really won’t learn anything unless you jump in the water.  Her metaphor ended by saying that there was no pool, no water and no bathing suits for many women simply wanting to know things about black men.  

“We are left to guess what black men want, feel, think and know and simply have no place to practice these things.”

A deliberate psychological education must begin if black men and women are to get to know each other.  A few years ago a female friend and I began running groups called Seminars on African American Relationships (SOAR) in which black men and black women simply talked to each other about themselves and things important to them for two hours once a week.  

The 15-20 members expressed their delight in meeting and just talking to each other.  After a month, however we noticed that a few black men were beginning to fall by the wayside.  I called several of them and they reported that some of the things being said in the group were hitting “too close to home” and they were feeling uncomfortable.  I encouraged them to come back and talk to the group about it, though I knew it wasn’t going to happen.  

Not wanting the group to become disproportionate by gender, I told the remaining members how the Brothers felt.   Surprisingly, both men and women said that these were simply excuses for miscommunication and for no communication.  They believed that the men who left would leave anyway and opt for “safer” communications, which in their case meant no communication at all.  The remaining members wanted to continue despite the 3 to 1 ratio that had developed in the group from the 50-50 ratio where it had begun.

I was not sure that the group should dismiss the men who’d stopped coming so easily.  Should they be coaxed into returning to share their feelings?  

I think that black men are taught at young ages to hide, suppress and otherwise ignore the part of them that may be considered tender.  One might argue that this has nothing to do with color, since all men are emotionally inhibited.  They are, but black men have inherited a social climate where speaking one’s thoughts can actually be dangerous.  

My father, similar to other black fathers taught us what to say when confronted by white police officers.  We were also taught how to talk to white bosses and to avoid making white males feel threatened by our presence.  Most white males receive a surplus of confidence builders in social situations since their environments affirm their white maleness.  Not so with black men. 

The machismo taught to black boys beginning at early ages sometimes works to keep them insulated against racism, but discourages expressions of love, hurt and pain.  It leaves black women feeling alone in conversations with us since the communication is often a one way street met on occasion with a grunt from black men.  

In group situations with other black men, bullshitting replaces true expressions of feelings and if a brother does gather courage and tells of his vulnerability to another black man, he can be faced by ridicule or dismissed as a punk.

I have observed black filmgoers both male and female laugh at black films that are emotionally hurtful such as Fresh, The Hurricane and Beloved.  The laughter is defensive against watching our own condition being placed on the wide screen and unable to connect it to the feelings residing within us of being helpless to change them.  Black men are particularly prone to dismiss such feelings since they tend to make them less “hard” in a world that depends on it.

Black boys are subject to this early push toward emotional isolation and can often hear the older women in their lives express negative comments about black men.  The lover who ran out on her, the father she never saw or the brother who is unwilling or unable to help financially are all bogeymen projected on to her impressionable young son.  Black men must be bad because Mom says they are bad, the boy reasons and without contrary evidence, these phrases become mantras which are often repeated to themselves and other black boys.  They grow up with ideas about manhood that are heavily influenced by women who may be bitter about the men in their lives.  Joined by some brothers who are simply trifling, young black males become the tangible results of self-fulfilling prophecies.  This vicious cycle will continue unless very early intervention takes place.

The inability of black men and black women to sustain relationships unmediated by race has been nearly impossible since they were first captured in Africa.  It remains so today, yet this is an ignored topic that if discussed would create greater cohesiveness in our relationships. 

Morrison’s ghostly child-woman Beloved, in her book by the same name, represents how the relationships between black men and women are haunted by the unresolved racism that has damaged them.  Sethe’s poignant words about her rapists, “They took my milk.” are still relevant in what is happening to black women today and should be discussed with the men in their lives.  Likewise, Halle’s insanity triggered by watching the rape of his wife and not being able to stop it is important for black men in the Winter of their lives to share with their women.

It is delusional to suppose that Beloved’s ghost no longer haunts the lives of black people in America and indeed the world.  She was the fruit of the horrors which we sustain as we try to establish families for our children and us.  The chokeberry tree on Sethe’s back kissed by Paul D, is a reminder of how black men and women should seek to heal the wounds inflicted on us by a determined culture seeking to sever bonds between us.

Black men in search of the woman who would be “the one” in their lives should take heed of Sixo, Paul D’s friend at Sweet Home who walked 28 miles once a week to be with his “Thirty Mile Woman” for one hour.  His description of what he wants in a woman is one of the most sublime in black literature.

“Paul D. sits down in the rocking chair, and examines the quilt patched in carnival colors.  His hands are limp between his knees.  There are too many things to feel about this woman.  His head hurts.  Suddenly he remembers Sixo trying to describe what he felt about the Thirty-Mile Woman. 

‘She is a friend of my mind.  She gathers me, man.  The pieces I am, she gathers them and give them back to me in all the right order.  It’s good, you know, when you got a woman who is a friend of your mind.’”

“A friend of your mind.”