Tag Archives: snizzles

“the unsupportive sista”, and three more stupid stereotypes about black women

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next year, that trophy is MINE, bitch

apparently, something called a “slim thug” recently blogged at vibe magazine about the current black dating and relationship dynamic. although his blog touched on everything from “reasons why some people shouldn’t use equations” to the benefits of bagging and boning ivy-educated mulattoes, the prevailing theme in his piece was that (most) black women are perpetually disencouraging chickenhawks who need to be a bit more becky.

before i continue, i will concede that a rapper, athlete, or entertainer might encounter a different type of woman than the “average” black man. if you (willingly) move in circles were a woman’s interest and eventual wetness is usually directly correlated to the size of your rims, you’re probably more likely to encounter, well, women whose interest and eventual wetness is directly correlated to the size of your rims. since he’s (probably) put himself in situations where contact with “regular” sistas is limited, his limited perspective about black women is understandable. dangerous and stupid as f*ck, but understandable.

but while this peculiar “slim thug” entity lives in an alternate universe filled with strange and deadly beasts called cubanalusts and katstackses and evelynlozadas, he brings up a meme that’s been expressed many times on regular ‘ole planet earth: black women don’t support black men. and, as a man who’s befriended, wooed, pursued, dated, and belonged to black women my entire life, i can say with no hesitation that this popular claim is 100% wrong.

maybe i’ve just been lucky. maybe my personal remembrances, anecdotes, and experiences with sistas are uncommon, but every. single. one. of the black woman i know are extremely willing to offer more support than one of aretha’s bras. seriously, i literally can’t name one black woman i’ve ever personally known who wasn’t supportive of positive and even semi-positive brothas. even the ones i know who are married to or exclusively date white men still support and encourage us. sh*t, there are probably some sistas reading this right now champing at the bit, waiting for any brotha to do something so she can throw some random encouragement his way.

if anything, you can make the case that (generally speaking) black women are TOO supporting, too willing to sacrifice themselves and their well-being for the betterment of black men and the black community, but thats a topic for another day.

anyway, this subject made me think of some other stupid stereotypes about black women, and here’s three more.

black women love thugs

no. silly women love thugs. big difference.

(educated) black women hate giving head…and are terrible at it when they do

since i’m trying to keep things pg-16 here, i’ll just say that the common perception of the prudish professional black woman is completely false. while sisters might be a bit more, ummmm, discerning about who and when they decide to fellate, they love to lewinsky their mates just as much as the next becky.

and, as far as this hold white women have on the mythical “best head in show” title, my only sexual experience with a white woman (i was in college. don’t judge me) contained 150 seconds of quite possibly the most excruciating head that’s ever existed. seriously, she tugged and twisted on me like i was a wet dishrag she was trying to dry. at one point i even looked down at my wang and mouthed “i’m sorry, man” like i was watching through a fiberglass door as it was being tortured by sayid from lost.

i know this is completely anecdotal, but if this incident is any evidence of why white women keep the “1st place, head category” trophy on their mantles, i’ll stick with my honorable mention sistas.

black women don’t take care of their bodies

to quote the kid talking to mcnulty about the late snotboogie, “it’s america, man”.

to expound, it’s america, man…nobody takes care of their bodies here. have you seen ourselves? sh*t, as i’m typing this in the coffee shop down the street from my apartment, i’m watching a man eat two cups of cream cheese…by itself.

***pausing to allow you to re-read what i just typed, and re-typing the previous sentence just in case you didn’t read it the first time***

sh*t, as i’m typing this in the coffee shop down the street from my apartment, i’m watching a (white) man eat two cups of cream cheese…by itself. he’s scooping that sh*t up with his thumb and eating it like it’s f*cking peanut butter. it’s easily the most disgusting thing i’ve seen since last sunday. in fact, the fact that he’s using his thumb instead of his index finger makes it even more disgusting. my point? we’re a nation full of fleshly-ass nightfeeding motherf*ckers. but, for whatever reason, black women seem to catch the most “ya’ll need to take better care of yourselves” flack, and that sh*t needs to stop

anyway, people of vsb.com, can you think of any other stupid stereotypes about black women (and black men, if you desire)? also, can anybody refute my claim about the fact that “the unsupportive sista” doesnt actually exist? if a slim thug wrote a blog about black women in the woods, would suzie ketcham buy a round?

the carpet is yours

—the champ

why so serious?

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the champ, before his morning toast

the champ, before his morning toast

although i don’t have any 2520′s in my immediate circle, i’ve had more than a few white acquaintances, co-workers, f-buddies, and i even know a few people who have a couple white friends. when you combine this information with the fact that i’ve attended predominately white schools my entire life, it’s apparent that i’m a white person expert. i know white people. if “white people” were “crack”, i’d be jojo hailey. if “knowing white peoples habits” were “lazy ass music”, i’d be “jockin effing jay-z”.

although this expertise has proven to be extremely valuable when creasing khaki’s or watching “the house of payne“, in no other way has it helped me as much as it has when comparing and contrasting the habits of young whites with us (“us” being, “american black people” or “north american n*ggas”…whichever you prefer)

now, it’s common knowledge among us that white people admire and emulate much of the sh*t that we bring to the table. from our music and our women, to our “cool” and justin slayer, there’s a multitude of sh*t born in our community that continue to inspire adulation and envy. yet, as i continue to observe the actions and general mores of our paled skinned brethren, i realize that there are a few aspects of their behavior that i admire as well.

today, in true vsb.com fashion, the champ will discuss one “typically white” behavior that could prove to be extremely benefical to us and our dating selves if we chose to adopt it. of course, i’m referring to…

…their ability to have unadulterated and unpretentious fun.

***sidenote: the champ realizes that he is making many blanket generalizations, but is only doing so because he feels that he needs to use some hyperbole to get his point across. if you have a bit of an issue with the subject matter, please try to remember that even though the champ is a virulent racist, sexist, homophobe, and jingoist he’s fair.***

to expound a bit, here is a list of things a typical “north american n*gga” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—perfect music. in this case, “perfect” describes a certain type of music that must be played and the percentage of time devoted to the playing of said music. what defines “perfect” varies from person to person, but unless the music at the establishment falls within 85 percent of that persons personal perfect music quota, the experience will not be seen as favorable

—a favorable male to female ratio

—a favorable number of cute-to-bagable/bangable members of the opposite sex

—a slight to moderate level of intoxication

—favorably priced (or free) access to their favorite intoxicant

—favorable “outside clothes”, an outfit which allows one to moderately stand out without looking like they spent 70 minutes plotting exactly what to wear

—a favorable number of like-minded comrades accompanying them

here is a list of things a typical “white person” needs in place in order to have fun when partying

—oxygen (and this is negotiable)

case in point: i live in shadyside, an area of the burgh filled with the type of white people parodied at stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. i can’t even leave my apartment without tripping over a prius or an american apparel skinny tie. basically, a perfect place to bag drunken, liberal, snizzles continue my observations.

anyway, last saturday, a couple young women who live below me (ha!) decided to grill some chicken and swine, setting up shop in a somewhat shaded section of our parking lot, an area which can’t be any larger than 150 square feet. not exactly the optimum place for a party, right? well, that’s exactly what i thought when i left the crib for a minute to drive to the arab seafood/soulfood spot to buy some blank cd’s home depot. when i returned an hour later, that tiny square section of our parking lot had turned into south padre island. there was a four man touch-tab football game, badminton, a one woman wet t-shirt contest and some convoluted yet compelling game which looked to be a combination of the westminster dog show and twister. all of this at 10:15 in the f**king morning.

as i watched them party like it was the last episode of ma.s.h., i couldn’t help but think to myself how much easier sh*t would be for us if we allowed ourselves to just let the f**k go sometimes, and how that would translate to our dating selves.  how much happier would we be if we didn’t have these terrible self-limiting constraints about appropriate labels for non-married significant others, and weren’t so unreasonably obsessed with swagger and exceedingly optimum ass-to-waist ratios. if we didn’t require our potential mates to take both the pool and the extended pinkie test. if “nice” wasn’t a four letter word, and asking someone to smile wasn’t akin to asking them to volunteer for a colonoscopy.

but then…i remembered that i hadn’t eaten yet, and all idealistic thoughts went astray as i sauntered over to the party square to grab a hot dog and quarterback the football game. i scuffed up my white pro-keds a bit too…but it was cool. its just a sneaker, right? it’s really not that serious.

—the champ

hop in the delorean

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letter to a young champ,

1. relax. between the ages of 16 to 23, the phrase “its really not that serious” is applicable for every chick you’re interested in, and, to be honest, vice versa. the sooner you realize this the better off you’ll be

2. that one chick from college (you know who)? get off her d*ck. keep doing you and don’t treat her like the be all end all of all black women. sh*t, you’re a freakin ballplayer and, in a decade or so, thousands of people across the country who’ve never even met you will refer to you as “the champ“. you don’t need to be sweating anyone that hard, dog. and, to be perfectly honest, you don’t really want to sleep with her. i mean, yeah you do…but your motivation to bone has gone from pure curiousness to pure ego. you dont even think she’s hot, and the only reason you want to fu*ck her is because you havent been able to yet.

3. sasha from caribana? do everything humanly possibly to get her the f*ck back to your hotel room, even if it means paying your man to step to and bag one of her hideous ass girls. you won’t be able to call her the day next because your phone is going to die as soon as you leave the club, subsequently erasing the numbers you just put in there (damn sprint!!). other than some carl thomas vid from 2005 that you’ll swear you saw her in, you will never see or hear from her again.

4. you’ll eventually find out that the chick from the bookstore is bipolar. not your typical garden variety chick bipolarness either, but she’s seriously been diagnosed as a manic-depressive. i not saying that you still shouldnt bag her because she is fine as frog hair and doesnt disprove that myth about crazy chicks in the sack, but it’s still good to know things like this.

5. that slight technical variation you incorporated into your boning style in 2002? good job. i’d admonish you for not thinking about doing that sooner, but, to be honest, college aged chicks aren’t ready for that, so it was probably for the better

6. dont wait another year. it’s not going to get any better, and the longer you wait, the more difficult it’s going to be to do it. end it as soon as the idea of ending it first gets into your head. yeah, its gonna hurt, but thats part of being a grown-up, and you’ll realize down the line that you definitely made the right decision.

this is it. sure, there’s a bit more i can tell you…especially at least 12 very good reasons not to put your lips anywhere near the vicinity of kim’s well-traveled mouth, but knowing everything would take the fun out of everything you’re eventually going to do. just follow you gut, cross your t’s and dot your i’s, and dont allow yourself to be seduced by tipsy snizzles your freshman year of college.

signing off,

the champ

(btw, i’ll explain the meaning of this new nickname in due time)

so, slutty mature folk of vsb.com, if you could hop into your personal relationship delorean and give advice to your former self, what the hell would you say?

—the champ

the first perfunctory race-specific entry

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panama and i are both aware that the url we chose, verysmartbrothas.com, is about as nuance-less as a typical tyler perry movie title. we chose it because we figured it would be easy to remember, and also because we’re, ummmm, two very smart-ass brothas. duh. thing is, despite the “brothas” part and the fact that the majority of our regulars are black, neither of us have written anything race-specific yet. sh*t, if you look at our entry topics, this site could have been created by worldlywittywhitemen.com and nothing would be any different.

this is not an accident. i don’t know about p, but for me personally, entries written from a “man who happens to be black” instead of from a “black man” allows for a bit more creative freedom and overall resonance. at the same time, i’m not so naive as to think that my experience as a black man hasn’t uniquely influenced my perception of everything i’ve seen and done, it’s just that i feel like i bring more to the proverbial table from the “man who happens to be black” angle

with that being said, i’m still not planning on writing any race-specific entries (ie “a smart brothas perspective on interracial dating“), plus, the people over at racialicious have probably covered it better than i would, but if i ever decided to put the “black mans hat” on and write a smart brothas perspective on interracial dating, i’d want to bring a couple new points to the table, points such as…

1. it seems as if black women occasionally forget one very important factor when thinking about black men: the fact that we’re, ummm, men, and, for the most part, we’re more loyal to the man part than to the black part.

***don’t believe me? okay, lets do a little exercise. imagine that there’s a gun to you head, and the only thing stopping the trigger from being pulled is a choice you’re told to make: you must either change your gender or your race. (ie, a black woman would have to choose between either becoming a white woman or a black man) without even reading the comments, i bet the majority of black women will keep their race, while most black men will choose to keep their gender. ***

this is paramount in the interracial dating discussion for one reason: men are generally less discerning when it comes to sexual partners than women are, and, since black men are men, physical attractiveness and availability typically trump racial loyalty. this is true for all men, regardless of race. i date black women exclusively because black women are the bangingest women and i’m surrounded by them, but not solely because of any perceived loyalty. sorry.

2. i’ve never bought the claim that white women are less sexually inhibited than other races of women (either i live in a vacuum, or the people who make these statements have just never met any of the women i’ve dated, lol). in my opinion, the basis of this myth all comes down to one factor: ubiquity. easily outnumbering every other demographic group in this country, caucasian women are literally everywhere. you can’t leave the house without tripping over a white woman. sh*t, i think theres one baking a cake in my kitchen right now, and this reality skewers sexual perception.

for instance, lets say theres 5000 incoming freshman at a university. of those 5000, roughly 22-2500 of them will typically be white women, as opposed to maybe 200 sistas. now, lets assume that roughly 10 percent of these incoming freshman women are super freak nasties, willing to do any and everything to any and everybody. this means that while maybe 20 to 25 of the sistas are freaking off every night, as many as 250 freshman white women are budding porn stars, a number which outnumbers the entire black female freshman population, a fact which can easily lead to all types of misconceptions. its not that all white woman are snizzles, its just that theres so many white women that the number of snizzles by themselves outnumbers pretty much everyone else

3. to all the sisters who are deeply ambivalent about stepping out and trying “something old”, its really not that serious. if you’re lucky you’ll be on earth for approximately 80 years, and I’d hate for you to spend a good portion of that time sacrificing your own happiness for some romanticized technicolor loyalty.

do. you.

and don’t worry, you can bring him to the vsb.com barbecue too. we’ll even make him a plate.

i could continue, but this “black man’s hat” is heavy as hell. no wonder i keep it in on the shelf.

—the champ