Charles White’s Men.

I am a Negro in America, I relate to images that are meaningful to me, images that are closest to me. I use that as a springboard to deal with the more board and the more all-encompassing.

-Charles White

Charles White, The Prophet

For the past week or so, I have been grappling with my disillusionment with relationships in general, black men in particluar. Between nursing the wounds of friends, family, the young women I counsel and, trying to nurse my own; I pray to see light at the end of this tunnel.

I am just so sick of seeing relationships crumble around me. It discourages me, makes me think I will always be alone.

I have also been thinking about what made Mr. Moody so attractive to me. He is of a different generation, being more than twenty years older than I. I imagine him a willing partner in the struggle. He represents for me an responsible lover of black women.  He supports his family financially. He reads the newspaper and is concerned about his community. He asks himself, “what can I do to make this world a better place for our children.”  He is a present father, active in the lives of his children, attending PTA meetings and makes pop up visits at his children’s school. He tells his daughter how beautiful she is, teaches his son to respect women. He is a devoted husband, works an honest job and has never seen the inside of prison nor is he interested in spending time on corners outside bodegas. He is proud of this.  He wears his jeans on his waist. He is ready to fight if you call him a nigger or nigga- he hears no distinction.

It is this “Strong Black Man” we black women pray for, cry for, fight other women for, set our dreams aside for, have babies for, struggle by ourselves for…die for.

Maybe it was because Mr Moody looked in my eyes when he spoke to me. In that moment, I  didn’t feel like a piece of meat, or worse.

When a fellow co-worker who knows Mr. Moody offered to formally introduce me to him, I shyed.

’cause I turn people into deities…place people on high pedestals…when they fall, they stay fallen.

They always fall.

And I am left hopeless, and think negatively about everything.

I want him to stay beautiful.

Homage to Langston Hughes, 1971

…like Charles White’s men…forever immortal on canvas.

~ by zingha on September 22, 2008.