You can’t be female and my friend

By Hansen Sinclair


Never in the history of men has there been a straight guy to look at a female and think, “I would really love to be her friend.” Stuff like that just doesn’t happen. Women try to trick themselves into thinking that their guy friends honestly and truly wanted to be just friends since the moment they met, but it isn’t so. No guy wants to be your friend, he just settles for it.

I’m not saying all guys want to necessarily get in your pants, but they may want something more...at first. Most of the times it’s simple infatuation, a tiny attraction that dissipates with time. Which is understandable, there had to have been something there to draw you to the person. Other times, you come to find out that the person you met is drastically different from
the person she is. So, instead of getting rid of her, you decide to keep her, but in a friendship role.

Then, of course, you have the one girl who everyone just wants a piece from, including yourself. Your main objective: seek and destroy. You play the friend game in hopes of gaining her confidentiality and ultimatley, her.

But you don’t want a relationship, you just want to hit it, quit it and split.

You see, women can have guy friends without wanting anything more, because they don’t need to chase men. Men will automatically do the chasing, no mattering how broken up the female looks. And of course, there are telltale signs to figure out whether a guy sees you as a buddy or just booty.
If you and your guy discuss matters and agree to disagree and is not afraid to speak his mind, he sees you as a buddy. However, if he flip-flops to match whatever you say because he wants to give the facade you have so much in common, they you’re just booty.

If your guy is open with you about his relationships or interests in other women, you are a buddy. If he claims to be single with no interest in any other female whatsoever, no matter how may women blow up his Sidekick, you’re booty (He does this because he wants you to know he is available at a moment’s notice to get it on).

If you’re Christian and your guy friend respects that, despite his lack of faith, you’re a buddy. But if you’re guy goes from chronic to Calvary the instant you tell him you’re Christian, he is doing it for show and is looking to jump your bones.
If you have kids, and your guy friend knows their names and birthdays, you could be a buddy (and should seriously consider him for more). But if your guy is allergic to your little rugrats and refuses to step foot in your house, but still wants you to come out and play, you’re booty.

And finally, if you do happen to hook up with your guy and it becomes awkward afterward, but you still manage to work things out and move past it, you’re definitely a buddy. But if you give it up and the next day your guy vanishes quicker than a Black man’s credit, then face it, you were just booty.

Guys have an idea of what they want from the beginning and it is our job to go after it and retrieve it by any means necessary. So next time you’re hanging out with your guy “friend,” listen to his words and watch his actions. There may be a hidden agenda on his part. You could either end up best friends or another name to check off his list.


Take notice or take off

By Te-Ericka Patterson

Buddy or booty. What an interesting concept.
Too bad this perception places the men in control of the status of the relationship because it leaves the woman to sit back and try to figure out what his intentions are. Games, games, games.

Raise your hand if you’re tired of playing ‘Ms. Cleo’ with all of the men in your life.

I thought so. How about we start a brand new revolution? How about we take back the power in our relationships because ultimately we have what they want?

Some women, including myself, have at one point or another settled for Mr. Not Enough just to have someone paying attention. He’s not really that attractive, but he calls everyday. He isn’t exciting or adventurous but he
keeps our pockets lined with green. He’s not someone you would
introduce to your family but anytime the baby needs some diapers, he’s got you covered.

We sit and we entertain these “friends” because each of them has a quality that we would love to see in our future husbands and they are meeting our needs for right now. We appreciate them all and there is a certain amount of love there, but it’s nothing like what we feel for the one who isn’t paying us any attention.

Hello, Mr. Golden Boy. Is anyone home? Don’t you see that I’m standing right here in front of you? Didn’t you notice that I changed my hair, spent so much money on this outfit and always look my best when I am around you? Do you even care?

Why do I sit night after night hoping to see your number on my caller I.D? I’m checking my email frequently thinking maybe you’d drop me a line, but you never do. I don’t even know you well, but the fantasy I’ve created in my mind has us living happily ever after across the county line with our three
kids and matching BMWs.

Why am I doing this to myself? By sitting and waiting on him to define our relationship I’m giving him power over me. And, I’m making myself look desperate in the meantime. Why would a woman as smart and vivacious as myself have to sit and hope for some attention from a man? If he can’t see what is right before his eyes then obviously he’s pretty stupid.

I’m tired of waiting around for a man to decide what he wants to do. Be a man! Make a decision. Or just continue to be selfish and chase multiple women. It doesn’t matter to me because I’m not going to continue to play your game any longer.

And it’s cool because you have no idea what you’re missing out on. It’s not even the booty that you should be concerned with; it’s all about my intangible assets. I am a team player. I am a loyal friend. I’m strong enough to hold you down, yet soft enough to melt in your arms. The intimacy is just a bonus to what I have to offer. If you can’t look past the immediate gratification of today to see the bigger picture then you’re
obviously someone who has a lot of growing up to do.

I’m not just living for today. I’m living for my future and the future of my children. I want this world to be a better place because I have lived. Whether or not you want to be a part of that is up to you. So go ahead and take your time trying to decide if you want me as a buddy or just some booty. With or without you, I’m going to get mine.

Women want what they don’t want

By Hansen Sinclair

One day, I was walking with my girlfriend in the mall, holding hands and
eating an ice cream cone, being as happy as can be. We went into a store
and browsed around for a few minutes before buying something. While at
the register, the cashier proceeded to flirt with me blatantly in front of my girl. I didn’t know what to do. I was flattered, but it was obvious my girl was not happy, and I was sure to hear it when we got in the car. The funny thing is, the cashier was a girl I had tried to talk to on numerous
occasions, but she didn’t so much as give me a glance. Now all of a
sudden she’s interested?

The only difference this time was I walked into the store hand-in-hand with another female. Could that be it?

I know I’m not the most attractive guy out there; I’m a mere 5’7,” 140
pounds with glasses. I’m not an athlete, nor am I rich. Instead of a
Hummer on dubs, I ride in a Honda on hubs. But I found a girl who finally
looked past all that and likes me for me, now all of a sudden to women
I’m Taye Diggs or L.L. Cool J. Why is that?

Why is it, when I was single I couldn’t pay women to go out with me, but
now that I’m in a relationship they’re throwing “it” at me left and right? Is there something different about a guy in a relationship, a certain aura
about him that women love; or are women so petty they can’t stand to see
other people happy and feel they must mess up a good thing? I guess it
has to do with the whole theory that women want what they can’t have. Or
maybe it has to do something with women’s rivalry with each other. I
mean, why should that heifer have a man and not me? I must sabotage
their relationship by any means necessary.

And of course,as guys, we fall for it. We find ourselves in happy, fulfilling relatationshps, but the thought of another woman actually wanting to be with us is enough for us to stray. I know I have steak over here, but I wouldn’t mind a little hamburger every once in a while. The problem with
men is that we -- at least the average guys like myself -- aren’t used to
being hit on or picked up. The fact that a woman, any woman, shows us
any form of attention is such a foreign concept to us, that when it happens,
we don’t know how to handle it. We aren’t used to turning down “it.” We
don’t wanna chase it, but when it chases us, we can’t run fast enough.

And of course, women know how to play us. They flirt with us, show us a
little thigh and “tickle our fancies,” and the minute we leave the woman we
are supposedly in love with she loses interest. Now we are back to
square one -- alone. It was all a part of her little game and she won.
Game over.

Moral of the story: guys, if you have a good woman who loves you for you
no matter how dumb or goofy you act, hang on to her. Ignore the succubus
looking to tear you away from your beloved. It’s all a mind game. She’s
hatin’ on your girl and is using you as her pawn. She really does not like
you, nor does she want to be with you. In short, if you don’t think you’re all that, but you still have beautiful, fine women hitting on you despite you being in a relationship, don’t hesitate, run far, run fast.


She can’t have my benefits

By Te-Ericka Patterson

Why do I flirt now that you have a girl? Simple; you belong to me.

I have a friend who had been in love with me for almost 10 years. We met
in highschool and we dated briefly but things never got too serious
between us although I know he wanted more from our relationship.

He was patient throughout the years, a loyal friend, a good companion. He
was the guy I would turn to for everything and I knew he would be there. I
had his attention and his heart and I loved it, although I didn’t love him.

Six months ago he called me and told me he has a girlfriend. My heart
dropped. A girlfriend? You mean you don’t worship me anymore?

I grilled him about this new girl, with the most important question on my
mind: Does she look better than me?

Now he had My attention. I would call him and sit there in silence. He
would ask me what was wrong and I would bite my lip and act like I didn’t
care. I noticed a change in his behavior. When I called him, he actually
told me he would call me back. Call me back? Excuse me? The monetary
gifts I received were becoming less and less. Ouch, that really hurt.

Now it was my turn to do the chasing. For what? I don’t know. I still don’t
want him in that way but there is just something about another woman
moving in on My territory that really upsets me. I can’t have some other
woman cashing in on my benefits.

This frustration caused me to sit back and evaluate our situation. Here
was a guy that was handsome, well-educated, generous and he
absolutely adored me but for some reason I didn’t want him.

I tried to want him. I really did. My mama loved him. My friends loved him.
Why couldn’t I love him?

Then I realized why. He wasn’t the one for me.

Even if he owned half of America and looked like the delicious Nick
Cannon, I wouldn’t be completely satisfied unless I knew that he was the
one God had chosen for me. That is why so many people cheat and
constantly look over their shoulder even though they are supposedly in
“good” relationships. They never got that assurance that the person they
chose was God’s absolute best for them.

The reason you’re with someone and longing for more is because there
is more out there for you. If you didn’t receive your partner as a gift from God chances are you settled for less than the best.

I could date and flirt and use all of my charms to snag the man of my
dreams, or I could wait and try to act right until God feels it is time to send my husband.

If I wait I am sure to receive the person that will be the best fit for me. I won’t have to look twice. I won’t have to wonder. No matter how fine any
other man is, he won’t be able to satisfy me like the man that God will
bring.

Yes, sometimes I get lonely and want someone to come over and feel on
me, but what would that lead to? Another baby to take care of. I don’t want
it to go down like that again. I want to do it right this time.

No more men going in and out of my life. No more casual sex. No more
breaking hearts and getting my heart broken.

There comes a time when all games must cease. You can’t be a
grown-up still playing childish games.

So, Mr. Golden Boy, whoever you are, I’m waiting for you. I’m not giving
away my heart or my body to anyone who wants a sample anymore.

I once read a book that posed a life changing question; Are you willing to
give up something good at the wrong time for God's best at the right time?

Real men, Real Fathers

By Te-Ericka Patterson

This Father’s Day I want to honor all of the men who are handling their business despite the drama we women sometimes put you through. Yes, I’ll be the first to admit it, I have been the cause of some heartache for the men who play the many roles of father in my life.

When things didn’t work out between the father of my children and I, I was very bitter and angry and I would spend a lot of time coming up with ways to hurt him so that he could understand how I felt.

I wasn’t very creative in plotting revenge and I didn’t have the heart, so I never followed through with most of my plans, but every now and then I would make a slick comment challenging his role as a father. Truth be told, he is helping to support our children and I have no real complaints.

He’s a young professional out there handling his business and his sons are a priority in his life. Regardless of what happened between us, I can’t sidestep the fact that he absolutely adores his sons and it is evident in the way he looks past my crankiness and takes care of their wants as well as their needs.

When it comes to fatherhood we can not forget the men who have the biggest challenge -- raising someone else’s children. Not only do stepfathers have to accept and love that child as their own, they also have to put up with bratty children who don’t understand or appreciate the role they are playing in their lives. When biological father walked away to pursue his own goals, stepfather stepped in, took up the slack and loved
you and your mama just the same.

Step-daddy was there when you got sick at night or needed some money to go on a field trip. Step-daddy was there to pick you and your friends up from the movies when none of you could drive.
After all the back talk, insults and telling him, “You’re not my daddy!” when your real daddy couldn’t have cared less about you, don’t you think step-daddy deserves to be honored?

I do.

Allen, I am sorry. For all the times I told you I couldn’t stand you. For all the times I rolled my eyes. For all the times I took you for granted when you worked two jobs to support our family, and I would frown my face because you didn’t buy me the exact sneakers I wanted.

I want you to know that I have grown. I’m not that simple-minded little girl anymore. I appreciate the instrumental role you have played in my life. You had me living “ghetto fabulous.” You spoiled me. This taught me that I could have anything I wanted as long as I did what was necessary to get it. Because of you I am willing to work hard for what I want and expect the best in return.

Being a single mother myself, if I am blessed to have a man in my life one day, I hope that he will be as dedicated to our family as you are. And I really hope that he takes care of me as well as you take care of my mother.

Happy Father’s Day.


Happy father’s day, mom

By Hansen Sinclair


I would like to say “thank you” to my dad for being there to support me through all of my rough times; for teaching me how to defend myself verbally and physically and for giving me expert advice on women, dating and life in general. I would like to say thank you...but I can’t. Instead, I have to say “thank you, mom.”

When you’re young you don’t realize all the struggles and turmoil a single mother goes through raising a family(Technically, my mother isn’t single. My dad worked on a cruise ship and we only saw him for two hours a week, if lucky. This left my mother to raise a son and two daughters on her
own).

I got mad at her for not being able to afford the latest sneakers. I told her I hated her and wished she would die when she punished me and corrected me. I selfishly demanded her last dime to buy unnecessary items, leaving her to go without necessary essentials. I was, literally, a selfish bastard.

Now that I’m older, I have a better understanding of everything I put my mother through. I finally understand what people mean when they say a mother’s love is unconditional love. I finally understand that no matter how much I messed up or acted up my mother would never desert me. And I finally understand what she meant when she said, “This will hurt me more than it will hurt you.”

Tupac said it best: “Even though I acted crazy, I gotta thank the Lord that you made me.”

My mother left for Japan in August of 2003. And it’s true what they say, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Everything I couldn’t stand about her, I missed -- almost everything.

I hated her getting on my case about budgeting my money, but I miss the advice on how to save. I hated her telling me everything will work out how God wants it to work out, but now I need some direction in my life. I hated her flooding my cell phone with voicemail and checking up on me every 20
minutes, but now I wish I had someone here who cared. I hated her telling me I had to go to church and “give one-tenth of what you earn to God,” but now I’m questioning my own faith. In short, I miss her.

Living with my dad -- whom I have issues with -- is not easy. There needs to be a buffer. Someone who can absorb some of the tension. My mother is ... was that person. Although they don’t get along, my mother has decided to forgive my dad for any past hurt he inflicted upon her and takes solace in knowing “God has a plan for everyone.”

My mother taught me many valuable lessons, lessons I could not
appreciate had I learned them from anyone else. My mother taught me how to defend myself, not with fists or weapons, but
with books, knowledge and respect. She taught me how to be
responsible and how to own up to my mistakes, despite consequences.

In short, my mother taught me how to be a man.

Women bring it on themselves


By Hansen Sinclair
hsinclair@miamitimesonline.com

At the time this article was written I was in an argument with my girlfriend. She was the nicest, sweetest person...at first. Then she did the old flip-flop routine. She turned into what we would call a b...you get the idea.

Everything was my fault. I realized no matter if I was right, I was still wrong. Once I spent 36 hours on the phone, writing e-mails, sending flowers and candy and all that good stuff to her house, just to have her tell me: “How can I be sure you love me?” I am not a person to throw the “L” word around all willy-nilly. When I say it, I mean it. How dare she question my
words and actions?

Since that day, I’ve been bitter toward women, dating and that stupid word. I used to think men playing women and being “pimps” was a degrading means of treating them. Not anymore. I say “playa, playa, play on.” And may the best playa win.

Women, you take advantage of a guy’s generosity, good nature and
insecurities and use it as a pawn in your evil little game of “I got you P-whipped.” I’ll be honest, all of my girlfriends have cheated on me, the Black ones, the Spanish ones, and I even had a blind girl once tell me she didn’t think we should see each other anymore because I could not see where she was coming from.

Women in my age range, the 18-to-30 year olds, you do get what you deserve. I’m glad that brother you went home with a few nights ago never called you. I’m glad your boyfriend of eight years promised to put a ring on your finger, only to run off with someone younger and probably better-looking than you. It sounds harsh, but for all you college “virgins” taking your first “walk of shame,” trust me, there will be many more, and I
hope you get passed around like a love offering.

Sure, guys do tell you they love you in order to “hit dat,” but it’s not like you don’t do the same. Instead of “hittin’ dat,” you hit him up for his paper, his cheddar, his green (in English, his money), his emotions and his kindness.

You have numerous men “friends” for different jobs. You have the brother whose job it is to “put it down” in the bedroom. He is
your emergency “Richard.” In case of emergency, break glass. He’s big and dumb and you could care less about what he has to say. Then you have the Mr. Fix-it sucker who is there to fix stuff when it get broken. You may break him off with a little kiss and a home-made dinner, but that’s all.

Then you have your “date sucker.” He is the one who spends all his money on you, hoping, waiting, praying to get a little nookie. But, alas, none comes his way. Then you have your “buddy.” This is the guy -- usually gay -- who knows all your dirt and just how much of a “garden tool” you are.

That’s why I have my own “special friends” for my own special needs. I have, of course, the nocturnal freak. She is the ugly chick who is good in bed. She comes when the sun goes down, and has to leave by the time the sun comes up. She doesn’t call me, I call her. She is grateful just to get some.

Then I have the “trophy lady.” She is the one I take to all my public events. Her job is to be seen, not heard. We may or may not end up doing something. But if we don’t, freak number one will gladly substitute.

Then I have my buddy. She is usually lesbian, or bitter toward men. We hang out, go to movies. She is the one person I can be myself around without any sexual tension. She may or may not be ugly. It’s all preference.

Then, I have wifey. She is marriage material. She is always there. She is the one I want to have my kids. I would do anything for her. But they are few and far between. When I finally do find a wifey I’ll hold onto her. Until then, I’m getting my freak on.



Hansen’s “special friends” are made of plastic.

By Te-Ericka Patterson

What Hansen just demonstrated is an attitude of selfishness and
self-degradation. He calls it “being a playa” to make himself feel better when actually he’s setting himself up for a lifetime of dissatisfaction, loneliness and plenty of STDs.

We go through the ritual of dating as if it is a rite of passage, something that HAS to be done because everyone is doing it. If we take a look around us we see people dating all the time, but we fail to look at the fruit of their dating relationships. Let’s examine mine.

If I saw a man that I thought was attractive, and I was attracted to him, this probably means I would do something to get him to notice me. I would flirt or smile or just charm him with my personality. He’d get hooked, we’d hook up and then we’d wander through the rocky road of relationships with the intention to stay together, but without the commitment to see it
through.

I dated so much it became easy for me to quit in a relationship. We all do this because the world teaches us that if all of OUR needs are not being met then we should give up and look for someone else. This became a cycle and I got a lot of practice at breaking up. I could tell when a guy was losing interest or maybe I was just tired of looking at him. I knew just how
to leave without bruising his ego. I knew that I had to pack up everything he had given me and give it back, remove all of his pictures from my room and tell my friends not to mention him anymore. And this went on over and over and over again.

After I went to college I fell in love. We had a child. We broke up. We got back together. We had another child. We broke up again. Now my life resembles that of a divorced woman. We’re in court for child support. We have to make arrangements for visitation. He’s moved on with another woman and I am left to pick up the pieces of my shattered hopes. I have experienced all of the pain of a divorce without ever tasting the joys of
marriage.

I have several options now. I can choose to stay single for the rest of my life, vowing to never love again because I don’t want to be hurt. I can choose to date again and risk choosing the wrong guy or I can choose to trust God, relinquishing my desires to His will and trusting that if He has a husband for me He will bring him around and I won’t have to do a thing.

My choice: I trust God.

If you say you trust God to show you which path to take in life, whether it’s finding a job, whether to buy a house or what friends you should hang out with, then surely you can trust Him to show you the person He designed to be your partner for life.
You don’t have to go trying on all the shoes in the store to know which one is the best fit. There is no confusion if you seek the Lord, He will clearly label the one He made for you.

I know it gets rough when all you want is someone to return the favor because you’re so busy giving of yourself to everyone else. Be encouraged, your time is coming. You don’t have to look with your natural eyes, things usually seem hopeless when you do. There is a supernatural force at work here, a chance for you to receive the desires of your heart, if only you would believe in Him.

What's going on in Miami?

By Te-Ericka Patterson

I've been gone for a little over six years and I return to confront a citywide attitude of self-hatred. It seems as though no one who lives in Miami wants to be here.

When I tell people that I moved back home, their first response is a stunned, "Why?!" Not 'Welcome home' or 'We missed you' or ˜Let's celebrate.'

I've been given a dozen reasons why I should have never returned. "There are no jobs here." "Real Estate is ridiculously priced, you'll never be able to live how you want to live." "Everybody has AIDS, don't have sex with anyone."

When I speak to Black people they all complain about how much Cubans are taking over. When they say Cubans they mean all Hispanics, not just Cuban people. The racism issue has taken a turn for the worse. It seems as though the Hispanic community has grown so much that they are no longer a minority. And Blacks are dealing with the same hurtful issues about race, but with people they once considered allies.

There are no more white people in the city of Miami, well, I haven't seen any. I would've thought this would be a saucy melting pot of cultures, but with the northward migration of Hispanics from South Miami, Blacks are feeling like they are being pushed out of their own neighborhoods and they are very bitter about it.

The division is not only between the Blacks and the Hispanics, I have noticed that there is a growing gap in the midst of the Hispanic community. Last week I met a Hispanic guy who told me that all Hispanics want to get away from the Cubans, so they are moving out of the city of Miami to do so. Now tell me something, what’s so wrong with the Cubans?

I really don't get it. Maybe I've been away too long but aren't Hispanics and Blacks kinda like cousins? When did one become superior to the other?

Why do Blacks feel like they are being overpowered?

I grew up in Liberty City. There were no Hispanic people in my
neighborhood during that time. Since I went down the street to a
predominantly Hispanic high school I became intrigued by the Latin culture and I enjoyed its influence on my life. When I went away to college I had to deal with my own insecurities about my value, being thrust into an environment where almost every person around me was white. Hispanic students at my college were a minority just like I was, there was no angst
among us.

I allowed my perception of the psyche of whites to shape my self-worth. I made up my mind that all whites thought I was beneath them. I made up my mind that no white person could ever be my friend because they could not understand my struggle. I made up my mind that any negative treatment by a white person was equal to racism and intense hatred grew in my heart.

Then I woke up. Well, God woke me up. He taught me that my value did not lie in anyone's opinion of me. My value lies in Him. He stripped away
my anger and showed me the true source of my discontentment; I was insecure. I wanted to feel like I was valued. I wanted to be accepted.

Is there so much insecurity in our hearts that we cannot coexist without hating each other? Are we simply placing the blame on another race because of our own shortcomings?

There is no one to blame for your situation but you. As long as you are breathing, there is a chance for you to do something to improve yourself. I'm not anywhere near where I want to be in my vision for my life, but I'm not going to let my skin tone be the reason I never get there.

Dreamers delight in the fantasy. Doers make fantasy their reality. Make it happen.

I have mixed feelings about Miami.

By Hansen Sinclair


On one hand I hate how we are perceived by the rest of the country as either gun-slinging, pistol-popping, drug-dealing, bling-bling hood rats, or cosmetically enhanced, pretentious, arrogant, vote-fixing bastards.

What I do like about Miami is exactly what my co-columnist hates, the racism. I don't condone it, but I applaud how open it is in Miami.

If a Cuban -- or Dominican, or Puerto Rican -- doesn't like me, he can say it to my face. Granted, it may be in Spanish and it may offend me, but I would prefer verbal racism to hidden and subtle hatred.As for Blacks saying "the Cubans are taking over," if I were Cuban, I would, too. We always contradict ourselves: "The Cubans are taking our jobs. There are no jobs; the economy is bad." Well, which is it? Are the
Cubans really taking all the jobs or are there jobs that we refuse to take?

I refuse to believe that after our 400-year headstart on "the Cubans," they have been able to come into the country within the last 40 or 50 years and 'push out� Blacks. Our problem is we like to use other people as our personal scapegoats.

Any other minority comes over here, takes whatever job they can find and works their way up. African-Americans -- which is different from Black -- sit by and watch these jobs being picked up by others. An immigrant would come to Miami, sell oranges, socks and flowers on the freeway just to make enough to live in poverty...and freedom. But an African-American refuses to take a job as a janitor because it is 'beneath him.' What kind of
crazy talk is that?

I'm all for people trying to better themselves, be they Black, Cuban or African-American. As for the cost of living, stop trying to live above your means. I agree with Bill Cosby completely that Blacks do have their priorities all mixed up.

Five hundred dollar shoes or $200 books? I think I'll go with the shoes. I may not be able to read, but I'll be the best-looking dummy out there.

Another thing that bugs is driving by all the Section 8 housing, where rent is like $1.50, and seeing Escalades and Beamers parked outside. So, let me get this straight, you can’t afford to live in 'normal' housing, but your pockets are fat enough to lease a luxury vehicle? Makes perfect sense to
me.

The problem Black folks, is that we do not utilize our resources e.g. voting, senators, legislators and community activists. The truth is Black folks, we're not fighting against the Cubans, we're fighting against ourselves.

The sweatier the better

By Te-Ericka Patterson

I love sweaty men.

I'm talking about the men who come home after a long day at work, fingernails all dirty, back aching and head straight for the shower, expecting a good meal on the table when they get out. Baby, I got your fried chicken, and yes, you get the big piece.

I'm so tired of the misconstrued value system that places men with brains above the men with brawn. Those 100-pound account executives who sit up in air-conditionined offices all day barking orders at their personal assistants, while having a hissy fit over a paper cut make me want to gag.

At the end of the day they go home complaining of migraines because they have been working their brain muscles. Poor baby, here's a Tylenol.

The pay scale falls in favor of the intellectual man. He goes to school, reads some books, learns to regurgitate what he has read and upon graduation he is deemed a highly valuable member of society. His salary continues to climb year after year and if he’s savvy enough to manage his money wisely he can retire comfortably without ever breaking a sweat.

The hard working man is overlooked. He is looked down upon because he doesn't wear a suit and tie to work. His expertise as an electrician may get him a smile and a thank you, but not the same respect that a pressed shirt would. Unappreciated and underpaid, the hard working man still rises at the crack of down to do his duty. He doesn't need a title or his name on the door to feel good about himself. He is content to work hard
serving his community so that his family is well taken care of.

Let's learn to celebrate the real men who do the dirty work most of us couldn't or wouldn't do.

What about the garbage men out there early every Thursday morning helping to keep our neighborhoods clean? They deserve some love. Let's not forget the barbers who stand on their feet all day, providing fresh cuts so that our sons, fathers and brothers can step out looking nice. We can't
overlook the warehouse workers on the third shift, who stay up all night packing up the products to ship to the stores that we shop in everyday.

The cab drivers, the construction workers, the firemen and even the security guards at the flea market all play an important role in society. Imagine what would happen if they all disappeared. There would be no one to build those new cabinets in your kitchen. There would be no one to drive the ice-cream truck that delights the neighborhood children. There
would be no one to come to our rescue in sticky situations or no one to man the front lines in the war.

Sweaty men all across the world, I salute you. Your work ethic and tenacity make this a better world for us all.

As Salt n' Peppa so eloquently put it, "What a man, What a man, what a mighty good man."



Sweaty men equal poor men

By Hansen Sinclair


That's all fine and dandy about your preference for a sweaty man, but if your sweaty man would have finished his GED, maybe he wouldn't be at the lower end of the payscale spectrum.

I'm grateful for all the garbagemen, firemen and construction workers out there, but don't be bitter about your jobs, do something about it. It is easier to blame your situation on society and complain than it is to go out and do
something about it.

Yes, getting a degree is hard work, and yes, it is time-consuming. But it pays off. It's like a 'get out of jail free' card. You go straight past 'go' and into the workforce.

Why should those of us with an actual education -- not to say that some of our blue-collar counterparts aren't intelligent -- be chastized and made fun of because we 'wasted' four or more years of our lives trying to better ourselves?

Sure, the economy sucks and we're stuck taking jobs that aren't remotely close to what we studied in college. But having that degree means we're more eligible for any decent positions that may pop up, and are pretty much in control of how far we want to advance in our career.

I hate high school dropouts whining about there not being any jobs that fit their qualifications. Exactly what are you qualified to do? You should have a job that fits your education. Let's see, I think Winn-Dixie is hiring bagboys (and don't break the eggs).

Before I go on, let me take a minute to clarify. If you were born before 1970, this article does not pertain to you. This is directed toward the high school, college and post-college aged individuals who didn't see it in their best interest to do something with their lives and prepare for their future.

Now they are stuck taking what is handed to them. And if I hear one more mother tell her child, "Not everyone is fit for college, so just worry about getting a ˜real job", I'm going on a Hooked on Phonics rampage. Why don't you just tell them what you really mean: "Don't bother graduating Dante, you're too dumb to even spell your name?" Stop planting those negative seeds of doubt in your child's psyche. Encourage the imbeciles...excuse me, children of tomorrow.

On the positive side, some individuals choose a life of blue-collar work. They are good with their hands and cannot be confined to four walls. They are free spirits, more or less. I have no problem with them.Heaven knows I couldn't put out a match, let alone a raging inferno, that's why we have firemen. The only thing I know about cars is that gas goes in
the gas tank and click it or ticket. That's why I'm grateful for the mechanics. Most of the time when I don't feel like cooking I make a run to Micky D's. Thank you burger flippers. You flip so well.

Everyone has their place in socieity, but we ultimately determine where our place is.

Why brothas date the othas

By Hansen Sinclair

I have Black female friends who tell me all the time that I look like the type who would bring a white girl home. And they're right.It took me a quarter-century to figure out that no matter how dark I am, or how long I grew my dreads, Black females will never see me as a true brotha. To them, anyone who speaks properly, has a degree, drives a Honda and has no priors is not real.

I get called everything from Uncle Tom to Oreo to sell-out to Wayne Brady. But the joke's on them. What goes best with Oreos? Milk. And there is plenty of milk out there for Oreos like myself.

It used to upset me when I would have the biggest crush on a fine sista with a body like PA-DOW! just to have her overlook me for G-Dogg from cell block D. For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me. Then I went to college.

In college women started noticing and appreciating me, but this
appreciation came in the form of white women. I realized I had more in common with them than my own people. We read the same books. We had the same political views. We even had the same major. And it didn't matter to them if I had money or not, they had enough for the both of us. Some sistas may say that these white women were using their money to purchase themselves a Black man, enslaving me with their wealth. But how many Black women sell themselves everyday just to ride in a ˜64 Chevy on dubs or just to synthetically grow their hair in order to be more like the white woman?

White women aren't the problem. The problem is the value system by which Black women appraise their Black men and themselves. I hate hearing Black women whine all the time, "White women have it easier. They are privileged. The government needs to help us more." Suck it up and start doing for yourselves what you want others to do for you.

Yes, I have a preference. I prefer women who are confident and
goal-oriented. I prefer a woman who would do for me what I would do for her. I prefer a woman who would build me up and not break me down. I prefer a woman who realizes that Black is not something I am trying to be, but instead something I am.


If You Don't Love You, Then Who?

By Te-Ericka Patterson

"Strong and bitter words indicate a weak cause." Literary genius, Victor Hugo.

It pains me when I hear of a young person who has been jaded by lack of love resort to extreme measures of generalization and degradation of an entire race of women. I could sit here and counter every one of his asinine rationalizations but what would be the point? At the end of the day he will still be hurt, lonely and unhappy with himself.

Dating becomes a problem when it is used as a medium to gauge
self-worth. If you are looking for someone else’s approval to feel good about yourself, you are automatically headed for heartache. There is only one reason why a person would make such spiteful claims; hurting people hurt people.

It's a simple fact that everyone wants to be loved. Everyone wants to know that they are appreciated and valued. Everyone wants to be understood and looked upon with eyes that say, “You mean the world to me."

I know I do.

But one thing that I have learned is that until we can look at ourselves and see our own value, no one else will. So what if you are overweight and bald headed with two teeth? If you can wake up in the morning and see the beauty that God created and know in your heart that you were made for a purpose then your inner beauty will outshine all of America's top models.

There's nothing like a person knowing their purpose, why they were born and how they have been set apart to make a positive impact on someone's life. Once we can get past the false reality fed to us by music videos and truly get to know ourselves and understand what gifts we are to this earth, we can sidestep some of the issues that cause us to judge ourselves harshly and believe that no one will love us.

Instead of getting depressed over a lack of popularity or a standard of beauty that only a small percentage of Americans are born with, look inside yourself. Find your purpose by asking yourself what makes you unique. Then pursue that purpose with every breath. Along the way you will meet people who share your same passion. Then it won't matter if you drive an Escalade or have a laminated bus pass, your excitement for your vision will unite you in a way that no physical attraction could ever
match.

Strong love matches are made through shared interests, not
physical attributes.Don't lash out in bitterness because you wasted so much time pursuing relationships that were based on the size of his rims or the circumference of her thighs. It's in the past. Let it go. Focus on you. Improve yourself. Go
for yours. Through the pursuit of your dreams, you'll meet your destiny and find true love in loving yourself.

Spread morals and respect, not your legs

By Hansen Sinclair

When I was younger I had a puppy. Within a month of me getting that puppy I was forced to give it away. I didn't play with the puppy. I didn't feed the puppy. Heck, after a few days I forgot I even had a puppy. It was complete and utter neglect on my part. Now, why did I mistreat the puppy?

It wasn't because I didn't love the puppy, but because I was four years old, and had no business having that kind of responsibility.

The same could be said for all the young girls out there having babies. Once the deed is done and the child is born they realize that babies are not puppies. You can't just give it away without some kind of emotional consequence.

Kids have this facade about them, leading you to believe they are cute and cuddly and a joy to behold. But the truth is, kids are hell to handle -- especially if you're not qualified to do so.

What irates me more than kids having kids, is kids having kids and getting rid of their kids because it's 'too much responsibility.' No kidding (no pun intended).

A baby should be planned and brought into this world with open arms. And not because your boyfriend couldn't pull out in time. A baby should be a joy, not a job. You shouldn't have to put your plans on hold for a baby. Instead, it should be part of your plans. And abortion shouldn't be used as a quick cure-all because you were to quick to spread your legs like jam on
toast.

Granted, there are some girls out there who have the financial and family backing to deal with having a baby at a young age. But for most, it is the end of all their hopes and dreams, and that can be a scary thought. So their solution -- abortion.

To me, this option is too readily available. Accepting abortion so nonchalantly is like saying, "Yes, humans are mistakes that can -- and should be -- erased," without taking into consideration we are literally murdering a defenseless victim.

If it were up to me I would make fornication with unlawful carnal knowledge illegal. You would have to obtain a license and have to be a certain age to participate, much like drinking or going to a club.

Why?

Think about it, the human body is the most loaded weapon out there -- able to create entire nations in just a few strokes.

If I made the law, you would have to get a learners permit in the form of sex education classes and sexually transmitted diseases seminars before you were able to experience sex on your own. Everything before then would be in the presence of an adult. Abortions would be used in extreme medical emergencies, and not because your condom popped.

If you did get caught having sex, punishment would range from chastity belt to tube-tying. Sounds a bit harsh, but why bring someone else into your messy life?

If you don't want your kid, you should not be able to have one.


Mothers: Fathers Need to Man Up
By Te-Ericka Patterson

As a young girl's belly swells she looks to her boyfriend for comfort, but he has gotten his thrill and is no longer interested. He figures that she can take care of things on her own, after all, his mother did it and so many other mothers before that. He walks away, without even as much as a 'so
long.' She is left to make sense of the mess she is in, with no guidance or support.

Florida is a high-ranking contributor to this epidemic known as teen pregnancy. People are unsure where to place the blame. ˜Kids shouldn't be having sex.' 'Parents need more control.' ˜Children are just wild these days.'

In Black youth, no one seems to recognize that this is a cycle that began in the days of slavery. When slave masters owned blacks, they would mate the strong Black men with fertile Black women. Once the Black woman was pregnant, the Black man was relieved of all further duties and free to go back to his own
life. He didn't have to worry about taking care of his child; the master would do that. His part in the child-rearing was complete; he had successfully planted his seed. The term fatherhood literally had no meaning.

This cycle is paralleled in Black society today. Most men who have grown up without a father do not know what it means to be a father, and most women who were raised in single-parent homes, don't know how to train their sons to be fathers. The men expect that the government, much like the former slave master, will take care of the child and that the woman is well-equipped to take care of everything else.

Sometimes abortion is used as a quick cure-all. Women faced with the possibility of having to struggle through life with a child on their own, sometimes make decisions out of their emotions. They don't see a way out. They don't see anyone in their situation come out successfully, so automatically they believe they are doomed to failure.

No mandatory sex education class or STD seminar will teach a young person just what they are worth. Only the love of God and their father can do that. But with so many fathers missing in action there will always be an empty hole in a child's heart that is aching to be filled.

Fathers need to step up and break this cycle of degradation. One man's decision to teach his son to be a responsible, goal-oriented individual could lead to a change in his entire lineage.

More than a bank account filled with cash, an inheritance of strong moral values passed down from father to son will garner a much richer return.

Young women don't need to be punished with chastity belts or the threat of a tubal ligation, they need their fathers to be there to show them and their mothers unconditional love. A child that grows up in a home with a strong, responsible father will be equipped with the self-respect and principles they need to one day raise their own children who will love and respect each other and themselves.