Power of the P-U-S-S-Y

So if you aren’t blind, def, socially inept, or totally disconnected from mainstream society, you’ve heard that Chris Brown was on GMA yesterday and then lost his mind backstage after Robin Roberts asked him a bunch of questions pertaining to Rihanna when he was really there to promote his album. First of all, let me just say that while his actions (throwing a chair at a window, shattering it and causing glass to spill onto the street below; angrily confronting the show’s executive producer) are totally inexcusable, I can’t say that a part of me wouldn’t have felt that same rage after people kept trying to make an event that happened such a long time ago relevant in the present day. I admire Robin Roberts and all she has done (and continues to do), and while I don’t even think it was her decision to ask him those pointed questions, I wished she would’ve just shut the hell up. You could see the tension building in his face and hear the frustration in his voice, and with a temper like his it was only a matter of time before he either blew up on air or waited for her after the show to fuck her shit up. I remember when it first happened and everyone had their opinion about who was wrong/right, what he could’ve done differently, whether he was provoked or not, and if his actions were justified. I’ve always been of the mindset that if I hit a man, continue to provoke him into hitting me, or threaten to do bodily harm to him, I had better damn well be prepared to either run like hell or get my ass beat. As a Virgo woman who’s been told plenty of times that I have male tendencies, I tend to have a viewpoint that is very logical, practical and systematic. I think about things in their plainest terms and don’t like to complicate anything unnecessarily. If that makes me like a man, so be it.

What’s interesting, frustrating and disturbing about this observation is that it implies that the female essence is innately illogical, unreasonable and bothersome. Somehow throughout time, having a vagina has come to mean being irrational and controlled solely by emotions, unstable and weak. Think about it – when someone is scared of something, we refer to them as a pussy.

I don’t know about any of you, but my pussy is one of the strongest entities I’ve been blessed to be born with. It’s self-cleaning (didn’t know that? the vagina produces liquids to lubricate itself and clear bacteria) and has brought grown men to their knees, weeping and begging for another sample. I’m not playing – one dude definitely knelt in front of me and asked if he could eat me out every Friday night until I got tired of it. That’s besides the point. But as I was saying, my vagina achieved one of the greatest things ever – it birthed my son. Did y’all read what I just said? I gave birth! I brought life into the world using the very same lips, hips and clit that got me knocked up in the first place. It expanded and grew to accommodate his size and when it wouldn’t expand anymore, Dr. Williams cut my shit. That’s right, snipped my vagina right down the middle, much to the chagrin of my boyfriend, who looked on in horror. Six weeks later I was healed up and back in action, and Rick had gained a new respect for me — and the honey box — after seeing what we went through.

Today I read verysmartbrothas.com’s post about the inherently female craziness of the song “Flaws and All” by Beyonce. In the song, she sings about being bitchy, moody, unpredictable, and still being loved by someone who accepts these flaws. While their assessments are usually funny, I’m pretty tired of VSB’s black-and-white archaic depictions of women. A lot of their posts hint at women doing shit that only makes sense in the feeble female brain, while the in-control, focused male looks on and chuckles sympathetically at his hapless mate. Come the fuck on. To paraphrase, the post is saying that “Flaws and All” is an example of women having unrealistic expectations for men to put up with our shit (whatever our shit entails). I’m no bra-burning non-chocha-shaving, has to turn everything into a gender issue kinda girl, but I mean DAMN. Can we get a little credit VSB? What happened to wanting someone to accept you for everything you are and everything you aren’t? Is it crazy to expect someone to deal with your imperfections the same way you deal with theirs?

You know, for all the shit women get about how we dress, whom WE CHOOSE to sleep with, where we work, some men damn sure don’t take the time to point the finger back at themselves. Guess what, she couldn’t be a hoe if none of you thirsty ass niggas were around to fuck her all crazy, now could she? She wouldn’t dress like a streetwalker if it didn’t get the attention of a slobbering, dribbling dog like you, now would she? Beyonce’s millionaire ass wouldn’t be singing a song about her millionaire ass husband if he wouldn’t have gotten enthralled with the pussy enough to marry it in the first place!

I think I veered off my original point, but so what. Suffice it to say that I’m a woman with flaws and I want you (Bernrich St. Louime, because he’s the only one I want) to love them shits! If that makes me crazy and unreasonable, then so be it.

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