I’m convinced that the 90s will eventually go down in history as THE DECADE THAT BLACK WOMEN KICKED THEMSELVES IN THE ASS-AGE. We told the world we were independent. No need for a man, we’re both mother AND father. You know, like amoebas. Or hermaphrodites. No need for a husband, “I make my own day-um money!” I don’t need protection, because sharp tongue will slice you in two.

Yes, we said that. Or at least we heard a herd of other women say it.

For those just a few years from chronic tooth elongation, do you remember this?

I have to admit this song made me want to stand up a pee like a boy:

And then we fell for this okey-doke:

Cute. Forever MY LADY. NOT MY WIFE. In fact, I had a friend who was pregnant with a deadbeat kneegrow at the time and he dedicated this song to her, and was gone, never to be heard of again before their baby turned two years old.

And finally:

I paused a bit before I posted this one, because I believe in the overall empowerment of black women and their capability for greatness. But in one of the verses, Moni Love mentions how all of her siblings have jobs and she has only her mother to thank for that, which may be true, but messages like that heard over and over brainwashed a lot of women that they could do everything.

And if you keep saying you can do everything, no one will help you with anything.

And therein lies our dilemma. No doubt the feminist movement in this country gave ALL women inroads, but many of us black women took that message too dang far. And now we see the fallout, and even people of other races buy into the impression that we do not feel the same hurt or feel that same fears and want the same things that other races of women want, and that’s partly our fault.

Last week one commenter said that she works in a job full of white women whom the male workers (high-ups like VP’s) are setting them up with doctors, lawyers and other corporate chieftains. Nobody tries to set her up. She’s a black single mother, and they say stuff like (and I’m summarizing) “Oh, you’re sooooo strong!”

Now we support grown arsed men who play Nintendo all day and say, “Go on, girl, you in-dee-pen-dent! Go make me a sandwich, will you? And the baby’s crying. I told you wasn’t gonna get involved with that other dude’s baby. That’s between ya’ll.”

Now, before you rabid feminists jump all over me and imply that I want black women to return to being totally dependent and involved in physically and mentally abusive marriages, just take a look around. The lack of marriage hasn’t put a dent in domestic violence and rape, has it?