We were like spaghetti and Parmesan cheese; the perfect
match. It had almost been a decade since we last saw each other but there she
was, in the flesh and to my surprise shorter than I (anytime I can meet someone
shorter than me I’m ecstatic!). It was as if time and thousands of miles didn’t
separate us and we hit it off once more. The gentle Pisces and the feisty
Aries, we’re an unlikely match but alike in more ways than three.
My cousin was more than willing to be escorted around our
city with my sister and I. After being lost for more than half our trip around
downtown St. Louis we decided to go where we knew: The Delmar Loop. Inevitably,
the conversation of sex arose amongst us as we strolled about the loop taking
in the scenery (y’all heard that TLC song…girls talk about the booty too!). My
cousin would jokingly announce, ‘Fuck it! I’m living my 20s ratchetly!’ This
declaration was made to justify what one would consider ‘lose’ behavior. I
threw my head back and let out a gut laugh at her exclamation. I was amused by
her cocksure proclamation of rachetdom (yes, I just made this word up…don’t
judge me!). I was also delighted at how similar our mindsets were even though
we hadn’t spoken in years!
Prior to this event, I to had begun to call myself a hoe!
Now hear me out…I know I just lost a few of y’all but for those who are
listening here is my justification!
As mentioned in a previous post, black women are taught to
‘keep ya legs closed’ and ‘cover your goodies (i.e. boobies, fun bags, tig ol
bitties, etc.). Our sex and sex-personality, as I like to call it, has been
completely muted. Any exclamation or assertion over and about our ‘goodies’
often result in malicious accusations of hoeing around. We begin to think about
sex as a matter only to be discussed in hushed voices and behind closed doors
so no one can catch an earful of the insidious yet glorious details. No, I’m
not saying gather up your girlfriends and bullhorns to parade around public
areas shouting out sinful things you would do to Idris Elba (no matter how fun
it sounds…this is NOT the suggestion!). What I am saying is that black women need
to begin to define sexuality for their individual self.
There was a time in our human history when women screwed
whom ever they pleased and men and the world at large had no complaints about
this. In fact it is said that if a child were to be conceived out of her union
with someone, the village would help raise the kid; calling every elder black
male ‘uncle’ to ensure a male figure in their life. This was truly a time were
god and goddess consciousness were flowing like tap water. Since these times,
we have been brainwashed about what sexuality should and shouldn’t look like.
As a whole, when it comes to sex America responds like
pre-pubescent teeny boppers who sprouted one ball hair a week and some days
ago.
Get my drift…we are
immature.
Ironically, we literally sell sex in this very environment
(this can be confusing to say the least). This environment can become difficult
to navigate and become firm in your sexuality, especially for black women.
Black women make up the majority of churches.
These churches
are teaching that even THINKING about sex will send that ass right to hell
(don’t pass go…don’t collect $200). Having been a victim of this indoctrination
myself, I can say that I’m sitting in the front of that struggle bus. Having
your libido tell you one thing and your white Jesus another can be particularly
painful (I wont go in on church and sexuality…that’s another post).
In addition to believing that we should wait until he puts a
ring on it, we deal with the reality that black women are seen as sex kittens.
With the twerking phenomenon in full effect black women are now being reduced
to nothing but jiggling asses and bouncing boobies.
Do you see where I’m
going? Our sexuality has been reduced down to a virgin/whore dichotomy.
Now, back to my hoe declaration. In our society there are
few realities that we need to face. As women, especially black women we have
little to NO control over our bodies. As stated previously any assertion over
our bodies result in the title of hoe (slut, bed wench, jezebel, etc.) being
slapped on. This assertion can take many forms and may be different for
different women; just like sexuality. If I want to wear shorts that show off my
fabulously toned thighs, I’m labeled a hoe. If I want to have sex with someone
before I’m married…I’m a hoe. Having grown tired of this labeled being thrown
on to me, I began to redefine it for myself.
Of course, I’m aware of the negative connotations behind
this word ( I use it in a joking way people…sheesh loosen up!). But if being a
hoe means wearing clothes that show my body, sleeping with whom I feel deserves
the goodies and speaking openly about what I like then SO BE IT! I’ll take that
title and make it look good dammit! I believe as long as my spirit isn’t
troubled and I don’t abuse my body and sex then I can live with being a ‘hoe’.
My cousin and I are in a quest for balance. Contrary to
popular belief (be it religious or mainstream) balance is not the same for
everyone. Her being an Aries, she is a bit brash and playful about sex (having
asked one of our waiters to ‘bust her sandwich open and spread that mayo on!’)
while I am more of a coy type on the surface. Both approaches are right when we
expand our minds outside of religious and mainstream insanity.
Wont you live as hoes in rachetdom with us?
Peace, Love and Progress
-Queen K.
