On Ciara, And How Some Men Must Really, Really, Really, Really Hate Women
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Any automobile produced by Kia. Turkey bacon that’s not Trader Joe’s turkey bacon. Bobby Jindal. The Transformer movie series. Beets. The Bleacher Report. Your opinion on anything if you ever use the phrase “bed wench” unironicially.
These are perhaps the only things I’m less interested in than I am in Ciara’s sex life. Seriously, she could be having sex with someone in my living room right now, and my only concerns would be 1) “How the hell did you get in the building? Who let you past the doorman? Wait. Nevermind. I forgot I don’t have a doorman.” and 2) “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to write.”
It is interesting, though, that who she has slept with, and who she is apparently definitely, totally, not sleeping with right now, has somehow become a story; a product of an increasingly awkward pissing contest between her ex and her current boo. One of whom is totally playing the “Look how good and moral and wholesome I am, America!” card. While the other is playing the “My name is Future. What did you expect?” card.
Even more interesting than this, though, are the reactions to this never-ending episode of Love and Hip-Hop: Ciara’s Bedroom. Specifically, how invested some people seem to be in this story. And by “some people” I mean “some men.” First came the ridicule of Wilson for 1) practicing abstinence and 2) practicing abstinence with a woman like Ciara. Because Ciara has had sex before. And we all know that women who’ve had sex with more than 1.2753 guys before their 30th birthday are virtually useless for anything other than more fucking. Not commitment. Not consideration. Not kindness. Just more fucking. And, whatever you do, don’t have the audacity to be with one and NOT fuck them.
And then, once Future came out and said “Um yeah. We was definitely fucking” came the glee. From the vitriol dripping from some of the statements, tweets, and status messages I’ve seen, it’s as if they got more pleasure from Ciara getting “called out” for having sex with her ex than if they themselves actually had sex with Ciara. This despite the fact that Ciara, to quote Panama in a Gchat convo yesterday, “aint done shit to nobody but make music nobody listens to.”
And that’s the thing. She hasn’t done anything. Except be famous. And enter relationships with equally famous men. That’s it. And it’s hard not to look at this — and other situations like this — and just conclude that there is small but sizable percentage of grown-ass men out there who legitimately dislike women. And not even a sitcomey sexism. But actual, bone-deep bitterness and hate. There’s really no other explanation for the incredulousness exhibited when a guy with options dare not fucking a woman who’s clearly had sex before and the unbridled, kid-like giddiness when she’s “put in her place.”
Of course, this isn’t a recent discovery. But, when this type of hate is discussed, it’s often explained away or dismissed as sheer bitterness. Or, if you want to get more academic, a product of patriarchy. While not discounting the truth behind those answers, they’ve always felt incomplete.
As alluded to earlier, I shared these thoughts with Panama yesterday. His full reply:
Panama: A lot of men hate women. Especially pretty women. I think they feel like these chicks never struggle. They always win. So they’re glad when a chick, a pretty one, doesnt. To them, its a correction in the universe. A small, momentary one. Its stupid. But these niggas like when the pretty women they’ll never get lose like they do.
Panama: But mostly I just think these are niggas who suck. Who hate women because they struggle getting women. I know a dude like that. Liked to commonly refer to women as nothing more than cum dumpsters. And would say he was a commodity because he was an educated black man and women should come to him.
Panama: Basically, these men think like White millennials.
So basically bitterness. Plus a side order of entitlement. And a sense of “Back then, you didn’t want me. Now I’m hot…and you still don’t want me.” This makes sense. But I still feel like there has to be something else there to explain both the hate and the glee, and I’m stumped. Maybe I’ll go listen to Jackie. The answer might be encoded in there.