Dear Successful, Unsuccessful, Could Be Successful and all other Black Sisters

Dear Successful, Unsuccessful, Could Be Successful and all other Black Sisters,

First and foremost, I want to say that I love you. I love all of you. I don't always understand you and I'm not sure I ever will. I have known only a small fraction of your collective and I have experienced the highest and lowest of emotions and feelings. I have had days where I smiled, grinned, and laughed a whole lot. I also had days where I have cried from being hurt or betrayed. With the small amount of your collective in my proximity, I have tried my best to not base or judge the collective based upon the actions of a few. Having said that, let me say this. Of all the things I have wondered, I ask myself. Why cant the collective find a good man. Perhaps its your definition. Perhaps its your interpretation of what a good man is. I do not know. What I do know is that I stand by and wonder why I am alone. I too want somebody good. I too want a good woman. My income may not reflect your tastes. My lifestyle may not reflect your desired lifestyle. My taste in music, clothes, politics, or whatever floats your boat may not be the same. They say that the collective out numbers my gender. Some say its has high as seven to one. Yet, why am I alone?

I am not the cutest guy. I don't have a six pack. I don't have a six figure income. I don't have a lot of dope lines. I don't have a $50,000 dollar car. I don't have a house. Basically my life is full of I don ts. Yet, most of all I don't have you. I have made mistakes in my life. Who hasn't? I am trying to forget the ones I have made. I guess my point is, I may not have a lot of material possessions, but I do have something that does make me wonderful and attractive. I have a heart. It is a heart that forgives. It is a heart that loves, that sacrifices in the midst of let downs and put downs. In fact, I have tried to communicate the actual things that I do have. I have interests. I love God. I am a deacon at my church. I have a master's degree. I write poetry. I love music. I love to laugh and share. Yet, I have learned that those things really don't matter. Some of you walked away from me in spite of the accomplishments I made or the striving in which I was attempting.

I hear tell that you are considering dating outside our race. Well. To say I am a tad bit disappointed would be putting it lightly. However, you deserve to be happy and if you think some other man of another mother would create that world of happiness, then enjoy yourselves. Don't I deserve to be happy? Don't I deserve a woman who is beautiful, faithful, and blessed? Should I consider the same thought pattern?

I want you to know that I don't want you to lower your standards. Instead I would ask you to increase your commitment to the survival of your people. By profession I drive a truck. Yet, I have a master's degree. I don't have the corporate job I desire. Do you realize whom you pass in the hallways? Men who work blue collar jobs, men who take out trash, men who work in warehouses and many of us are smart, talented, and have crazy potential. We just need you to believe in us. We need you to believe in the collective. I am sorry you met some men that did not deserve your love. I am sorry you met some sorry men who did not know how to stay faithful. Must we all pay for the less among us all?

I love you so much. I love you more than myself. I have no life without you. I am raising a daughter and I desire for her to ascend to the highest of heights; all the while knowing that her Black father cared not only about her but the collective as well. I don't know if this letter will touch your heart. I don't even know if you care enough to spend the few minutes to read it. What I do know is that I am among you and I am hurting.I am hurt that you chose men with thug tendencies over intelligentsia. I am hurt that you would create standards that will take me years to ascend to in the face of competition, racism, and prejudice. I am hurt that you would rather find love in the children of our historical oppressors than love with your own. While I realize many of my gender have no sense of community and have walked away from you; you should know that many of us have not. We are here and like you... We are alone. We are not perfect. We will never be. Yet, I would rather be perfectly imperfect with you than to be with someone else or worst, alone.


With Love,
In sincerity,
In peace,

A lonely imperfect Black man.