don’t believe everything you hear.

andreinaac:

ROFLLLLL JUST DIEDDDD

(Source: unabating, via meri-niyati)

sanitysgasp:

Because all she trusts in the game.. @robhillsr #repost HIS WORDS GIVE ME LIFE!!

afroerotik:

I Want a New Black Man

I want a brotha who loves me unconditionally, meaning, he sees my flaws and he doesn’t hold them against me or use them to belittle or berate me; he challenges me to be a better woman and helps me resolve my issues. That’s the sort of man I want.

I want a new kinna Black man, one who understands that his manhood is not tied up in the number of inches between his legs, the number of women he has bed, or the number of zeros in his bank account. I want a new and improved Black man who understands that his manhood is about his integrity, his willingness to grow, and to work towards building a stronger relationship. I want the new and improved version of a Black man who can ask for forgiveness when he’s done something wrong, not do it again, and can admit when he’s lied.

Black man 2.0 is the shit I’m on. I want one who isn’t afraid to show his emotions, cry, and to really talk about what he is feeling. Of course, he has to be able to identify his emotions before he can talk about them so he might have to go to counseling and get some therapy. He understands, however, that doesn’t mean he’s weak but that he’s really, really strong. He isn’t running to white women because he thinks they are better, or standing on the street corner, complaining about how the white man is keeping him down. Nah, my brotha, my king knows all too well that there are systems in place to keep him oppressed but he knows his true value and worth is in his ability to overcome, he understands that he is mighty and powerful and created to reign supreme despite the odds against him.

You see, that’s why I fucks with the new and improved Black man, who can be a father to his daughters as well as his sons, never raise his hand to a queen, never take what doesn’t belong to him from a woman, and who holds other brothas accountable for their disrespect to sistas.

The old Black man is played out. His usefulness has run its course. I don’t need the man who thinks he has to rule me because he has a dick, who thinks he has some god given right to make all the decisions. That old tired passive-aggressive Black man who can cheat, lie, and be arrogant about it when he’s caught, actually trying to blame me for his actions had been retired, put out to pasture. If you listen carefully, sometimes, very late at night, you can hear him crying on the internet about how everything is the Black woman’s fault for not understanding him, for not being supportive, for not demanding better of Black men. He’s out there, beating his chest, thinking it’s manly to be an adrenaline junky, making it rain at the strip club, and jumping from bed to bed, never knowing, really knowing the women he shares himself with.

The NEW Black man, MY BLACK MAN, knows that his sexuality is sacred. He has no desire to give it to anyone, male or female, without a connection and like minds. He views his body as a temple, not one to be worshipped but one that is holy and sacred and not to be defiled with the undeserving lust of people who don’t acknowledge his being beyond what carnal pleasure he can give them. He doesn’t have to lie about who he likes or what he likes because he is assured that his manhood is not tied to the gender of the person he fucks, it’s tied to his willingness to speak truth to power, own up to his shortcomings, identify his issues, and to work diligently toward healing them.

And what does my black man get for his awakened, enlightened status? He gets the rewards of a relationship where he’s valued for who he is in all his splendor, flaws and all. He gets all my unconditional love, my honesty, and my commitment to the relationship too. But sometimes, well, all the time really, I give him my special kind of hot, sticky, sweet, wet, loving that makes his toes curl up and his eyes roll back in his head. You see, without all those bullshit masculine roles he has to wear, he can be free. He can tell me all his secrets and I don’t judge or ridicule him. I know all too well what buttons he likes pushed and I work every last one of them.

(via afroerotik)

Maybe it is easy?

(Source: cheyennekaris, via youbasichoe)