Canada Goose
Pooping on your head :umad:
Many Black men want to figure out their feelings and their finances before they deem themselves relationship-ready. Getty Images
Not long ago, I watched a two-part report that Sonya Masingale did for Louisiana Public Broadcasting on the shortage of Black single men. The first part looked at how the shortage affected single Black women in their 30s. The second part focused on men, featuring a conversation with three of Baton Rouge’s most eligible bachelors over 30.
It was done in 1986. A year after I was born. Now, it’s 36 years later and I’m single. What I’m trying to say is that I was born into this struggle. Recently, I wrote a piece for Andscape about single Black women and the lies others tell about our love lives. Black women endure multiple stigmas around our singleness. Yet the structural factors and shifts in cultural norms have been almost entirely overlooked.
Thousands of Black women – relieved to finally see the truth of their singlehood accurately represented – retweeted, reposted and shared the piece in their group chats. And while many people were aware that 62% of Black women are single, few knew that 55% of Black men in the United States are unpartnered. This may be because unwanted singleness is almost exclusively presented as an issue for women to solve, so the spotlight shines brightest on our singlehood. A Google search about single Black men will pull up multiple links related to what Black men think about unmarried Black women and articles on what women should do to appeal to Black men. But few ask Black men how they feel about being single.
Armon Perry, a professor at the University of Louisville and author of Black Love Matters: Authentic Men’s Voices on Marriages and Romantic Relationships, is one of the few people who has sought to answer this question. Perry said most of the research on single Black men has focused on their ability to be a provider in the context of public assistance for their children and families. This interest, according to Perry, began when the federal government created the Office of Child Support Enforcement in 1974 to go “after non-resident fathers.” Perry makes clear that the office was not created to target Black men, but they were affected by its mission. While the federal government may not have much interest in single Black men beyond their provider status, Perry has found that “laypeople are really, really interested.”
So, like Masingale did more than three decades ago, I decided I needed to come through with a part two focused on single Black men. The fact that I wrote an entire piece inspired by my own singleness may lead you to believe I don’t know many single Black men. And you would be correct. The Black men Masingale spoke to in the ’80s seemed to think the grocery store was a hot spot to meet people. And based on the number of men complimenting me in the Whole Foods self-checkout while I’m sloppily dressed and just trying to get home with my oat milk, this is probably still true — you’re welcome for the hot tip. My avoidance of men at the supermarket is probably why I’m still single and had to search for Black men to interview. So, I did what I’ve never done in service of my own love life and asked friends to introduce me to the eligible bachelors in their lives.
When Corey Michael, 30, of Jackson, Mississippi, asks me if I’ve heard of the manosphere, I chuckle hesitantly, “Yes, yes, I have,” wary of where our conversation might be headed. Michael, a machine operator at a steel fabricator, apologizes for the noise in the background of our midday call. Many of the men in his sphere ask what a woman can do for them before considering dating her, but Michael said this Red Pilldating ideology isn’t just about what a woman has to offer. “Most of those guys say before you should date as a man, you should have a high-value skill.” And Michael said, “That’s a hard thing because, of course, most Americans are broke. Most people don’t got a thousand dollars in their savings account.”
Michael was married at 25, divorced at 29, and is confident he will marry again. He said Black men do want to be providers. But alongside these aspirations to be “the man,” they’re also “dealing with inflation, how high stuff is and how hard it is to find a good-paying job.” When he was married, “I was paying for everything, taking care of everything, so I’m used to being the head of the household,” he said. “But now in the dating scene, you really want to date a woman that’s financially stable.”
He said he’s into traditional values, but how he defines “traditional” doesn’t conflict with his desire for a woman who’s got her own. He points toward an aunt and uncle of his. “They were married like 40 years, and they both worked the whole time. But he paid for everything, and she was able to put all her money back. They invested all of that, and now they were rich.” Although this is his ideal, he said he hasn’t been able to make it his reality yet. But when the time comes, he’ll have no issue relinquishing the control that comes with head-of-household status. He’s more interested in someone he can make decisions with. “You didn’t marry a person to be your pet, you married a person to be your partner.”
Perry has found in his research that this shift in thinking about roles within a marriage is part of the relationship paradox for many Black men. “What I find is that men still put pressure on themselves to be providers, while simultaneously rejecting the idea that that should be their sole role, and they should be the sole provider, but also wanting to hold on and maintain a disproportionate amount of the decision-making power,” he said.
Just as the fact that most Black women have always worked outside of the home disrupts the (white) notion of the wife as the “angel in the house,” the ability of Black men to be the sole provider was almost never an achievable standard for marriage “because of systemic racism and oppression and things of that nature,” Perry said. It’s like Black men are trapped doing the hokey pokey: one foot in on the pressures, societal norms and privileges promised as providers, and one foot out in the reality of what relationships actually look — and feel — like, meaning less pressure, but also less power.
Link to rest of the article: https://andscape.com/features/how-do-black-men-feel-about-being-single/?ex_cid=tutwitter