This is my first published article from 2004!
Enjoy, and as always…be blessed!
BY: TIFAIR L. GILLESPIE
Daily Egyptian 2004
My soul is torn and I weep at night when he calls me outlandish names – rat, chicken head, whore, gold-digger.
In the beginning he called me names like queen and sister, not minding when I said what was really on my mind. Now I’m a sex puppet, paraded to the world as nothing more than flesh. He doesn’t allow me to address the true concerns of the world war, teen pregnancy, gun violence, or social injustice. He tells me that people don’t want to hear about the ills of the world, and that they would rather be entertained through superficial thrills.
Yet, I still love him.
He doesn’t like the baggy clothes I once wore representing Africa, Malcolm X and Marcus Garvey. He told me that it was a fad and that I had to get with the times. “No one was going to be wearing that African, pro-black, ethnocentric stuff in the new millennium” he said. So he dresses me in platinum chains, stilettos, short shorts, and throwback dresses. He makes me hide behind the limelight by just speaking when I’m spoken to, and by being his polished trophy. I stand in utter disbelief. What happened to us?
He had so much respect for me in the beginning – physical violence was never an issue. Now, he perpetuates domestic violence to the world as if some accomplishment that should be rejoiced. I ask him if he knows how that will affect future generations who look to him for guidance.
And I still love him.
I was never ashamed to bring him around my mother and white counterparts, but now when I leave home, I leave him at home because he’s so unpredictable. Monday he may speak of “flipping birds” and fully automatic pistols, and by Wednesday he’s talking about the honey’s booty he felt on in a club. On Sunday, he inspires the youth to aspire to the goals of the great leaders of today and yesterday. His actions confuse me, and, suddenly, he becomes an even greater mystery to me. How can he vary to such extremes? I don’t want to love some parts of you – I want to love you completely, with no ifs, ands, and, buts. It’s causing my spiritual and moral values to progress to the point of contradiction.
Now, I ‘m consumed with shameful infatuation for your flashy style: your diamonds, the platinum watches, the throwback jerseys. I ask myself, “What does this really hide”? The worldly possessions conceal the intelligence that you once knew, and the fact that you portend an economic status that doesn’t exist.
I know it sounds even crazier, but I still love him.
Some may ask why I love someone who calls me out of my name, talks about beating me, doesn’t allow me to wear the clothes I want to wear in public – one whom I can’t even bring around my family and coworkers.
I tell them he was once rooted in history, religion, and educating his people. Oh, but he still does. Only now it’s not in public, where everyone can see, but rather behind closed doors where he speaks of truth and not deception.
That’s why I love him!
I LOVE HIP HOP, BUT WHY DOESN’T HE LOVE ME?