Have you ever been in a store or restaurant and seen a woman showing her tail? That, in case you aren’t versed in Ebonics, is black speak for acting wrong or being rude. They’re chewing their husbands out or cussing their boyfriends up one side of high heaven and down the other.
Don’t you get kinda embarrassed for the guy? I feel emasculated for him and I don’t have anything close to a set of man parts.
Some chicks sure do spend plenty of time putting their men in their places. Checkin’ them. Givin’ them the business. Letting them know when they’re wrong, how wrong they are, and how quick they better get done with that wrongness. The very fact that they have a man to badger and beat about boggles my mind.
Everybody in my circle of friends is sweet as fresh peaches, but they’re also single as dollar bills. Meanwhile, the real-life mean girls ripping their fellas a new one for all of Harris Teeter to hear never spend a lonely night. It just doesn’t make sense.
One time I saw a lady laying her dude out in front of Kmart for forgetting to bring an item they were supposed to be returning, which created some sort of melodrama. She had her hand on her hip, her face was quite a brilliant shade of red, and her spit was steady flying. So were the curses. I mean, it was HBO After Dark in her world for that space of time. I scurried past, sent up a silent prayer for him, and thanked goodness I didn’t land myself in her crosshairs that evening.
When I came out some 30 minutes later, do you know that same lady and that same man were still standing in that same spot?
He was taking his verbal smackdown like a champ, jutting a word in defense every once in a while and looking quite irritated and put out, but mysteriously not walking away and leaving his banshee in the dust. I wanted to pat him on the back and give him some sort of encouragement but, unwilling to place myself at great personal risk when he’s clearly used to being treated like — well, like that — I kept it moving.
Most of us womenfolk have a gripe or two (or ten) about men. Men don’t want to commit. Men are emotionally unavailable. Men don’t respect/appreciate/consider/understand us. Men lack ambition and, even worse, money. Men have wandering eyes and roaming penises. Men, in short, disappoint us. Some gals have no problem whatsoever in letting the opposite sex know just how much of a mess they are, pure and uncut.
Then to top it all off, they have an arsenal of friends, sisters, sorors, and co-workers who are always ready, aimed, and fired up to co-sign the man hatred. Some way, some how, those women always end up finding one another — the ones who spare no negative adjective when it comes to addressing their complaints about guys. They travel in packs. And if they don’t know each other personally, there sure are enough TV shows, magazines, and blogs that fuel the fire and fan the flames.
Two ladies in my class suffered from the disease of man hate. They called themselves feminists. I called them nuts. Crapping on dudes doesn’t make you a feminist any more than wearing cut-out pants makes you Prince. It just means you’re misrepresenting the movement and dragging some poor man’s self-esteem down in the process. There’s a difference between standing up for yourself, even having a reputation for not taking any mess, and being downright unnecessarily nasty to a man.
Just because the verbal abuse comes out of a mouth with lipstick on it doesn’t make it any more acceptable. There are some women who know exactly how to wind up with just the right combination of words to make their men feel like less than zeroes. It’s a double standard, sure enough. But more than anything, it’s sad for the guy and ignorant for the beast he calls his woman. I don’t know if commitment or cowardice holds dudes in those types of relationships, but they’d be better off trying to cuddle up to a cactus at night.
Do some women play the extra hard role to make sure they get their just respect?
Image via xinem/Flickr