Table of Content
Paul Jacobs, a professional athlete and fledgling entrepreneur, echoes Clinkscales's sentiments strongly. "As a black man, professional success validates you and gives you the ability to compete, especially against the white men of the world. It's like your check." To my surprise, if a brother was feeling insecure about his financial status, the offer only ended up making him feel worse. You should be with some nigga that can give you the world.
Thanks to sexism, there is considerably less pressure on us to be financially and professionally successful. For better or worse, society still allows us to measure our overall worth in ways that have nothing to do with our careers, like being good mothers, wives, or community workers. The pressure we feel about our ability to make paper is usually more about economic survival, dreams, and ambition than maintaining our "feminine" identity. More than a century later, that sentiment is still prevalent. My mother's approach wasn't wrong, it was just short-sighted.
When Chickenheads Come Home To Roost
It wasn't until I grew older, however, and watched women repeatedly relinquish happiness to men who were controlling, disrespectful, and abusive for the sake of "maintaining a certain lifestyle," did I fully recognize my mother's sagacity. In her own silent way, she instilled the importance of financial independence, self-reliance, and determination so her only daughter would know that her heart, soul, spirit, and body were simply not for sale. So now Des "takes no shorts." Her current boyfriend -- wealthy and married -- was told in no uncertain terms that she would only see him if he deposited several hundred dollars in the bank every first of the month. With the exception of one admirable saint (and she wasn't me) we all failed to take the high road. The only difference was that girlfriends who were unabashed graduates of "Pussy Ain't Free U" weren't hampered by things like moral quandaries or my womanist drivel. All they wanted to know, in the succinct words of one, was Where are the auditions?
If you ask someone to define feminism, the response will vary, but there will always be at least one that will include hating men in some form. To be more clear, feminism should not be defined solely by victimization because we are so much more than that. Knowing this and not allowing it to become a superwoman cloak over one's spirit is a balancing act. What makes this book interesting to me is the how it can appear hypocritical to want to be independent, have a successful career, be a boss in all areas of life until apparently you choose not to be. I think this what Morgan means by shades of gray.
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Sexism is one instance where it's virtually impossible to dismantle the master's house with the master's tools. No matter how well women think they've mastered the game, they're still playing by somebody else's rules. And when it comes to women and sex, the old double standards are still very much in effect. Finally, for the sake of her sanity, she decided to cut him loose. As liberated women we may revel in our ability to pay our own way but we're not likely to fall for the men who let us. The one boyfriend I had who actually took the "feminist" approach of splitting all our dating expenses -- everything from the movies to vacations -- squarely down the middle, couldn't win for trying.
She tries not to do that but it is what she does. In particularly she blames mothers for there sons actions. She gets into the whole "mother's raise their daughters but love their sons" argument. But it negates personal responsibility and puts adult decision on the why a child is raised. If you get to twenty five years old and don't know how to open a door or act like an man than it is not entirely your mother's fault. Forthright and controversial, When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost offers a feminism committed to "keeping it real." It is that magical intersection where contrary voices meet -- the juncture where "truth is no longer black and white but subtle, intriguing shades of gray."
When chicken-heads come home to roost : a hip-hop feminist breaks it down
"Right. Threatening to kill yourself. You know, the things we would never do. And those are the girls who seem to win. I was crying because an admittedly frightened, weak, vulnerable, but oh so real part of me wanted to yell, "TAKE CARE OF ME. PROTECT ME. BE THERE FOR ME. LOVE ME." Instead, I ended the last conversation we would have for two years by calling him everything but a child of God. Igniting my fury were the memories of endless conversations about his frustrations with a woman who seemed to have no greater life aspirations than being wifey. Showered her with shopping sprees at Barneys. He just wanted -- correction -- needed her to want something out of life besides him.
For sistas especially, relying on punanny power to secure one's future is a crapshoot, at best. Given the harsh economic realities of black folks' lives, chickens are up against phenomenal odds. Despite the fairy-tale appeal of Cinderella stories, black Prince Charmings -- specifically, brothers making enough paper to set their women comfortably in the lap of luxury -- are exceedingly rare. Girlfriends pursuing that prince at the exclusion of all others would be wise to broaden their horizons.
The acclaimed author highlighted the basis of this term in her 1999 book When Chickenheads Come Home To Roost. According to Morgan, the passage breaks down “the keys that unlock the riches of contemporary black female identity” against the backdrop of rap becoming pop culture. Despite the rating, I didn’t actually hate this book. It started off really strong and my favorite aspect of it is how Morgan writes. She doesn’t cave to inaccessible academic language, in fact, she writes the way that her target audience speaks.
"I think that they do intimidate some. But if they do, then there's a good chance that's not the guy they really need to be with. Smart, together sistas need to be with the type of man who is fearless, courageous, and wants to succeed badly enough that he'll jump into any situation." While financial stability and a career he loves are definitely among my dating prerequisites, they matter more to me as indications of a brother's capacity for passion, commitment, and a solid work ethic than what I think his money will do for me. And when it comes to not giving me the respect I think I deserve, money is not a factor I'm ever tempted to place over love or happiness. There've been six- and seven-figure brothers who've suffered the same fate as the ones who were barely getting by. And I'm grateful to my moms for giving me that freedom. I couldn't remember the last time I'd put my hand in my pocketbook even on a second or third date -- let alone a first.
I wouldn't do it for like $50,000 or something 'cuz you could really make that on your own -- but $300, where's a black woman gonna make that kinda money legally? It's not like you'd be selling out for a couple of pairs of Manolo Blahniks. I read this book during my college years and it was quite insightful. During that time I was completed engulfed in Hip-Hop culture, this book help me define who I was a woman in such a movement. Too much talk of the "independent woman" v. the "gold diggers" which felt like slut shaming misogyny rather than an uplifting contribution to feminism.
My chickenhead-hatin' homegirls, however, did a lot more qualifying. The next time I see Mr. Mention on TV all I can think is Damn. Then I find myself envisioning the lucky chicken chillin' in a new Mercedes SLK Kompressor and discover something else -- envy-green is an unattractive shade for an allegedly righteous black girl. Curious to see other sistas' reactions, I repeated this "what if" scenario.
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