Chris Rock, Call Me: Why I Need To Date A Baller

Last night I dreamt I was dating Chris Rock and it was nothing short of magical. I woke up to the revelation that for the most part I've spent 25 years dating the wrong kind of brothers. Not only have these black men been spiritually broke but they've all been financially strapped, making under 100K a year while living beyond their means.

Being both a writer and uberly politically conscious has not made making money my strong suit. I've been considered "financially immature" and have even been asked to disclose my credit score on a first date by a man who presented himself as well-to-do for being an entrepreneur who inherited a million dollar home in San Francisco. Most writers struggle and for those of us with a sociopolitically conscious it's even harder to make ends met. However, I make due with what I earn. 

To top it off I've spent the last 16 months caregiving for my mother who is terminally ill with cancer. So, needless to say, I've been deemed not fit for the dating pool as there is no romance without finance. In today's economy a sister is expected to earn if she's ever expected to be considered marriage material for most brothers.

Your average black man (perhaps due to his inferior earning power compared to white men and even sisters) seems to believe that if a woman is not financially secure enough to take care of his wants she's not worth dating, forget about marrying. A part of me gets it. If they're out there grinding harder than a monkey pumping at an accordion on a fool's shoulder, they expect you to do the same. Hell, I'm the woman (new mommy), I'm suppose to pump even harder than them as they are well aware of all the sisters out there making it happen. Thus, I'm viewed as being a burden and easily replaceable.

I've spent many a day as of late feeling completely inadequate. I've shed many tears of loneliness and sadness. I'm slowly losing my mother because "Killer Kaiser," her HMO, neglected to diagnose her cancer at an early stage even though she practically lived their with appointments. 

She's all I've got as my father wants nothing to do with me most of the time because of my views. My stepfather has been a rock to me which has been a blessing. However, let's face it-- this is a cold world without a loving mother of your own in it. 

All these years she's been here for me, almost providing a bridge of love and care I would have loved to have gotten in a good long term relationship but never found. What now? What do I do now??

I've just been lost.

And then I have this dream. It's turned everything I've been feeling about my situation on it's head. Instead of waking up more drained than I was the prior night, I felt rejuvenated.

Now, I ain't saying I'm a gold digga. But I've definitely been messing with the wrong negus. 

I've been dating men who buy into the notion that the system is somehow right. That a college degree equals excellence. That it's cool for people to discriminate based on earnings and credit scores.

Sadly, most people are conditioned to think this way because it's been force fed to them by the dominant ruling class from birth. Even Suze Orman can see through the game. That it's rigged against the majority of people, particularly so against so called minorities.

A truly woke person wouldn't expect the person they're in a relationship with to sell out in order to love. But capitalism edicts this. As the black thinker/lecturer/author Shahrazad Ali states, there are plenty of financially successful black women out there but it doesn't inform whether or not they can make a good wife and a happy home.

Enter Chris Rock. He's a white hot talent who is solidly in the black financially. A black man like him, a shot caller, isn't looking for a woman to match him dollar for dollar because like Jamie Foxx says, he's got his own.

My dream revealed to me what I knew all along-- capitalism is for shit. Which is to say our economy is no good for the artist who doesn't burn a searing hot brand to their flesh as was done to mark our ancestors in chattel slavery. 

After all, a good conscious daughter helped turn this black man...

into this black man...

doing amazing things for the black community. And she isn't a millionaire. Kaep is still a baller even though so called owners don't want to touch his fire now that he has refused to pledge allegiance to the flag or whatever. What Colin Kaepernick knows is that mo' money isn't everything. He's discovered that all love, such as that All-American love, isn't good love. But black love shared within the community is everything. For some of us it's all that matters. 

So, I'll keep hope alive that a true baller, shot caller, will cross my path to make a beautiful life with me and not my pocketbook.

Love & Vodoo--The Curse

"There are wonders enough out there without our inventing any."
-Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark


Commitment is more than an involuntary stay in a sanitarium. In a romantic relationship, any significant personal relationship, for that matter, commitment is fundamental to the love and positive energy that flows through the union. What's real tends to last. What's not tends to fall apart easily and disappoint.

But really, at the end of the day, for me every since I saw my first disaster movie called "The Day After" in the early '80s, I've been mildly concerned with survival should the shit hit the fan. So, for me, I'm thinking who is not going to ditch me, but love, care for and be with me should the Zombie Apocalypse actually go down, you know? Who's going to have my back should civilization unravel tomorrow but me? As I have no children, my primary concern will be for my aging parents. I must prepare, as I just hit 40, to be my own savior. Wow.

After I found out my sophomore year of college that Walt Disney was a known racist, I ditched all hope in the princess fantasy. It was bull, a simple product; and at 20, completely obvious as it was hard to find a gentleman, let alone a prince. Do some women get a taste of it? You bet. But only about half the people who take "the plunge" and have "the wedding" can get through the tough times to actual sustain long marriages. It is a rarity in these days and times for people to be married 40, 50, 60 years. If so, I wonder, how many of those years are spent truly happy? How many are tested by infidelity, mental and physical disorders and acute boredom? How many bounce back?

I was actually confronted with the news that chances were I would never be happy in love around the age of six. Yes, six. My grandmother, the matriarch of my mother's family, delivered the bad news. By this time in her life she was an ordained minister and missionary, so it was only appropriate she deliver this oral history down to me. I was her youngest grandchild.

One summer night in the San Bernardino Valley, as the desert wind howled and the window a/c unit chilled the dining room air, we sat around the dining table after dinner one night and she told me about our family curse. She spoke in hushed tones. A terrible pox was put upon us because of jealousy and  romantic love. You see, my grandmother's mother started the whole thing.

My great grandmother Helen Young was from a well-to-do African-American family. Upon graduating college, no small feat for a Black woman at the turn of the 20th Century, her father arranged a marriage for her with an African prince. If great grandmother Helen would have gone through with it, explained Grandma, we would all be princesses today.

Great grandmother Helen had other plans. By a twist of fate she met and fell in love with a half Black, half Irish musician with a penchant for booze. Grandma actually minced no words, describing her father John Russell as a "bum." However, he was her mother's heart's desire. Upon cancelling her engagement to the prince she was disowned from her family. What's more, the prince, distraught, was said to have gone to his witch doctor for retribution against his runaway fiancee. The witch doctor then put the curse on our blood that no Russell woman would ever be happy in love.

One might believe from the family track record that the curse took. Cut off a couple of my fingers and I could still add up the happy marriages on my mother's side, with one hand. I think that curse followed me back to The Bay.

I've wondered what, if anything, that old witch woman had to do with the situation I find myself in now. Pushing 40, a successful relationship had eluded me. I've had passionate relationships, even lengthy ones (seven years lengthy), but not one I could say was with the person I've really been looking for. The person I've always wanted possessed qualities I'd never experienced in a partner; foremost he would accept me at the place I showed up at and would be willing to grow and build a life with me.

My current relationship of nearly three years has by far been the most promising. We love and respect one another as we are. Our greatest challenge has been the two thousand miles that has separated us the majority of the time. After careful consideration I have decided to close that gap by moving to his state so we can get on with building a life together. It's a big step for the both of us. I'm not taking any chances. Sage, myrrh and frankincense will be burned in our space before I even unpack. My second biggest challenge will be controlling my mind. I'm sensitive and I tend to over-think everything. I suppose because of my life experience often being dictated by Murphy's Law, I just realized how often I wait for the other shoe to drop; in other words, for things to fall apart.

My boyfriend thinks my "curse" is hogwash and says we create our own fate. Part of me agrees. My Great Grandparents had many good years crisscrossing the country in a traveling jazz band, having eight kids along the way. The other part of me isn't so sure. For all of civilizations advances, life is still a great mystery. Who's to say that witch doctor didn't conjure up a magical link between this and the spirit world so strong that it may affect the outcome of this love relationship that I'm working on being my last? Ahh, there's that over-thinking again.

Curse or no, I must believe in the power of our love to overcome all the new trials and tribulations we will be facing together. For, in my heart, I truly believe that living in love creates the best luck of all.