20 Things Black Women Absolutely Cannot do because it would make us "boys"

20 Things Black Women Absolutely Cannot do because it would make us "boys"

...and therefore, "too masculine" to get a man.

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I can't begin to tell you the number of times I have been called too "masculine," in one way or another by a black man for simply living day-to-day. My absolute favorite is being told that I have the "I don't need a man" attitude. I mean, it's correct, I don't (nor does anyone), but this isn't a statement I generally make or imply. I just do me, and for some reason, a black woman who can take care of herself while simultaneously minding her own business isn't "feminine" enough for a black man's standards.

Here is a running list of things black women apparently can't do if they if they want to be seen as a woman...

1. Excel at sports.

Especially the less "dainty" ones such as American football, basketball, hockey...

2. Wear dress pants.

I will never forget being told by my high school that if the lady-graduates wanted to walk across the stage for our diplomas, we were required to wear a dress or a skirt.

3. Wear blazers.

Especially when paired with the above-mentioned slacks.

4. Wear short hair.

I'm assuming because that would make it harder to tell we're women (of course having a vagina wouldn't take care of that.)

5. Use cuss words.

They aren't "lady-like."

6. Show intelligence.

Personally, I've been told that I was too smart for my own good. (Whatever da fuk that means.)

7. Change a tire.

Because that would deflate the whole damsel in distress thing.

8. Check the oil in a car.

...and shame on the person who taught us how to in the first place.

9. As a matter of fact, pop the hood of a car for any reason what-so-ever...

10. Prefer to wear flats over heels.

"sExY lEgS" > comfort

11. Be too muscular.

Real women should be asking a man for help to lift every little thing. Also, fuck health.

12. Eat large meals.

boy voice: "I'll have the steak and the little lady will have the salad, no dressing, light lettuce, extra water. She's watching her figure."

13. Pass gas (from either end).

Shoulda just ate more light lettuce. ..

14. Somehow have a good job, house, and car without the help of a man.

How?

15. Purchase things other than plants at Home Depot or Lowes without asking for assistance.

...are you lost?

16. Have any type of law enforcement job.

Being in charge, being a boss, being strong, being threatening, all signs of a woman who secretly wants a penis. (lol. sorry, I had to laugh at this one)

17. Drive trucks.

No need for practicality when you're a woman.

18. Work in architecture, construction, mechanics... or literally any field dominated by men.

The fastest way to break a nail.

19. Enjoy video games (specifically the violent ones).

GTA = NO, Just Dance = YES!

20. Enjoy anime.

We've gendered Japanse cartoons and the consensus is that they aren't for black women's enjoyment...

I'm a woman because I told you I'm one. Also, this fact is reinforced by my vagina. My purpose in life is not to spend my days looking for ways to impress men with a false and toxic sense of masculinity. Life is too short to not just do me.

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A Letter To The Tomboy I Used To Be

To that girl with the baseball hat, board shorts, and grass stains, thank you.
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To the tomboy I used to be,

Thank you so much for making me the strong, beautiful, determined, and badass girl I am today. I am proud of who you've become. It is because of you that I can stand on my own two feet. It is because of you that I am not afraid to stand up for what I believe in. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

You were never easy to deal with. Mom and Dad had a lot to handle growing up. It was Dad who had to fight for you to be able to play boys' baseball. It was Mom who had to stand up to the boys that were mean to you for playing a boys' sport. It was both of them who had to cart you around to all of your games and practices, because playing one sport a season was just not enough. It was Mom who had to wash your clothes endless times, because the grass and dirt stains would never come out the first time. Don't ever forget who helped you become who you are.

Your attitude and thought process is very different from that of most girls. You grew up dealing with your problems through wrestling or fighting. Pettiness was not something you could deal with. Your anger came from losing a game, not drama with girls. You didn't understand why girls fought, or were so mean to each other, and to this day, you still don't understand it. You are different. You aren't like most girls by any means, which can be difficult for you, even now. You are so much tougher. You think differently. You are determined.

I love who you turned into. You are so strong; you handle everything with such passion and grit, that I can't help but thank you. Thank you for pushing yourself, and for not letting anything or anyone get in your way. The boys were mean sometimes, and the girls talked about you, but that never fazed you. That chip on your shoulder only made you strive even harder for greatness.

Thank you for making me unique. Thank you for making me extraordinary. Thank you for making me, me.


Love,

Amy

Cover Image Credit: tumblr

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I Found My Voice When I Was Diagnosed With Muscular Dystrophy

How I became a writer

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I have always had a love and passion for writing since I was little. Probably as early as third grade. I would always write makeup stories about monsters and typical third-grade stuff. My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Strobbe saw my potential. Her class was hard but it pushed me to become a better writer. Rarely anyone got an A in her class and I had received an A in that class. Then as time went on, I pushed away from writing just because I didn't think I could make way with a career of writing - obviously I was wrong.

I began on the teaching path the rest of my elementary years. (Yes, I've had an idea of what I wanted to do when I was just in elementary, call me crazy.) In 6th grade, I still thought teaching was the way to go. At the time was going through a rough patch- getting spinal fusion and getting diagnosed with MD. It was a lot for a 12 or 13-year-old to handle. I had a lot of thoughts and feelings.

My mom had encouraged me to write again whether in a blog or writing in a journal. I had decided to write in a blog and it felt really good to write again. I only talked about my surgery because I wasn't quite ready to share the whole MD ordeal yet to the whole world. Close family knew but my friends had no clue.

I got into high school and students even teachers would ask me "Why are you riding the elevator?" Why this and that. I didn't really share much because I was afraid people would think differently of me. But I was tired of people asking me. I then wrote a piece on social media and put my story out there for the world and it felt amazing. I finally found my voice and I was loving writing more than ever. It was because I had the courage to speak up and stop hiding. I needed to share what I have been through and teach people to learn to embrace what they've got no matter who you are. I wanted to be the person to make a positive impact on people who have diseases and those who don't understand what it's like having a disability through the power of writing. I wanted to have the power to tell people's unique stories who may be afraid to speak up for themselves or share their story.

My goal when I write is to hopefully make a difference in someone's life or just someone that can be relatable. In high school, I am also highly involved in publications ie being Co-Editor-In-Chief for the Magazine for the last four years and it was a huge game changer as well, I never thought that I could make a living and realistically have a job In the journalism field. Being in publications was an eye-opener. It lead me to so many opportunities- writing for Newsboys, going to Mizzou for Journalism field trips etc. It made me fall in love with writing even more than I had. For me, writing is everything to me and I know I wouldn't be the same person or even the writer I am today without sharing my story.

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