Oh, to Be Loved by the Black Man

Tuesday Pause™

Recently, I came across a video featuring several Black men who were emphatically challenging the narrative that Black men don’t want Black women. They spoke fervently and unequivocally, declaring their love, appreciation, and desire for Black women.

They adamantly pushed against the media’s sensationalized portrayal of how against Black women Black men are. They defended us, they affirmed us, and they annihilated with their words the story many of us have been told and even believed as we were force-fed this ignorance disguising itself as truth. Social media was doing what social media is supposed to do… divide and conquer. And if I’m honest, there have been times that I believed it myself.

What saved me? My three Black sons and being married, but now separated, to a Black man. One I will NEVER hate.

You see, I have an uncanny ability to see things much further than words ascertain. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always been curious about the “why.” And life, boy, has life taught me quite a few lessons. But most of all, I get to choose how circumstances will shape my decision-making going forward.

Unfortunately, so many get stuck in the here and now. I’m thankful that, through it all, I remember, and I’ve either learned or am actively in pursuit of the lesson.

And one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that I’m loved by the Black man. Oh, to be loved by the Black man.

And yes, I can say that even in this season. I can acknowledge what hurt me without allowing that hurt to become the lens through which I see every Black man. My marriage ending does not erase the love I’ve known, nor does it mean that love cannot find me again.

My affinity for Black men does not negate the fact that life with my own father was ruled with a heavy fist, and sometimes I wanted to flee. I’ve had terrible relationships with some Black men. My own insecurity played a part in many of the situations I placed myself in. That does not make me responsible for someone else’s mistreatment, but I can acknowledge where I was within myself. I have been disrespected. I have been hurt by a few Black men.

But, what I have also come to realize is that space is not often given to our Black men to hurt and acknowledge the hurt they’ve felt at the hands of Black women, in particular. To say that something wounded them. To have someone listen and acknowledge that their pain matters, too.

I look at my sons, and I see more than a narrative. I see their hearts. I see their humanity. I see Black men who deserve to be seen for who they are, just as I deserve to be seen for who I am.

So no, I refuse to look my Black men in the face and act as though they mean nothing to me. Act as though I despise them. Act as though I don’t have an appreciation for them. I know what it is to be hurt, and I also know that my hurt is not the whole story of who they are.

So you see, my affinity for the Black man doesn’t come from naivety. I have been broken by Black men, but I have also been put back together by Black men. I'm fully aware of the hurt that hurt people can disperse, that does not negate what I feel about imperfect, but healthy love.

That’s why those words in that video mattered to me. To hear Black men speak so fervently on our behalf. To hear them say, with their whole chest, that they love us, desire us, and appreciate us. I paused. I listened. And I allowed myself to receive it.

I’ve had to fight for my own voice, so I know what it means to have someone else try to tell your story. And, I don’t want to be so consumed by the story I’ve been told that I can no longer recognize the love standing in front of me.

Call to Action

For this Tuesday Pause, I invite you to ask yourself: What story have I accepted about Black men or Black women? Where did it come from? And does it reflect what I’ve lived, or what I’ve repeatedly been shown?

If there is a Black man in your life whose love you appreciate, tell him. And Black men, if you love us, keep saying it. We need to hear it, and we need to experience it.

In close, what has being loved by a Black man meant to you? I’d love for you to share it!

Oh, to be loved by the Black man. I love my Black men.