Dear Brother,
Allow me to start this letter by saying that there is no one in this world that I respect more than you. I came from a two-parent home, watched a black man bust his back to feed five kids and we're now watching another black man bust his back to lead our country. You're a strong breed of man. Almost a super human. You're fast, you're strong, you're loyal. These are all reasons we as women respect you. Sad thing is, recently we don't feel we get that respect back.
What's wrong with us as women that we know longer deserve your respect? Have we not held down the home. Did a black woman not give you life? Don't we stand beside you through the good and bad? Why aren't we allowed to have the good in you? No, this isn't about you dating outside the race. Frankly, that doesn't bother me a bit. I want you to date whoever makes you happy. But why in dating another race must you tear down ours? I'm a chicken head. I'm black. I'm ugly. I'm ghetto. I'm a b****. I'm too dark. I'm too fat. I'm too loud. Women of other races are dying to get these curves, this hair, this tan. White women live our lifestyle and it's okay, we live our lifestyle and we're trash. What happened to protecting us Brother? Did we go out of style? It used to be cool for us to be intelligent but now we're to be seen and not heard, naked and not dressed, racially ambiguous or not loved. It seems that no matter how much you say you love us, you have an awfully crazy way of showing it.
To my young brothers, why do you take from us when you know how much we're willing to give for you? I don't mean money, I mean yourself. You take yourself from us. You give yourself to the streets and you're leaving us widowed way too young. What happened to wanting to have a career? We still need teachers. We will always need doctors. You're so smart, yet you feel it's cool to be dumb. What do your "boys" give you out there on the streets that my home didn't provide for you? Your mother wouldn't be happy. I'm sure you can tell I'm not happy. What makes you think I want to spend my Sunday morning at the county correctional facility to spend 20 minutes conversing with you behind glass? Where are your boys now, huh? I'm working my hands to the bone to feed a child and everyday it's the same old jail mail "I'll never do it again. I love you. Can you put money on my books?". I wish I could call you and tell you how sick and tired I am of being sick and tired but I can't.....because collect calls are a dollar a minute. Where is your drug money to help us now? Chances are it'll die with you.
To my grown brothers, why is it okay to forget you had kids? Something that was once frowned upon is now the norm. Our sons and daughters need fathers and it seems that most fathers would rather cop an excuse. We don't need you to be an ATM nor do we need sperm donors. We need men to teach our sons how to be men and to love our daughters so that they don't have to search for love elsewhere. It isn't fair to the kids. Sure we may not always get along, I know sometimes I get on your nerves, but you don't have to love me to love them. Let's raise our princes and princesses to be the kings and queens that they are meant to be. Let's save our money to put them in ivy league schools instead of worrying about the new Jordans that are coming out soon. Let's show them more attention. Let's make more strong, black brothers.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not angry at you. I'm more disappointed. More so hurt than anything. No matter how hurt I may be, I'll always remain loyal to you because I want to see you do well. Through it all, you're still the one I run to, just want to know that you'll be there when I come running.
With Love,
Eleven8
