There are conversations that I tend to have, unsure why this is the hill that I choose to die on, and like a video game I keep hitting reset and doing it all over again.

In this instance, like most of my life this is something within my control, and I choose still to power on, and on, and on.

Over on Fetlife, that kinky site where I occasionally post there is this group, Ask a Black Man.

I remember when I first joined that group and the joy it used to being me. In those days 4 or so years ago it was a great big mix of everything Blackness and full of melanated men covering all of the spectrums. It was a focused and targeted reminder of the beauty of the male half of my tribe.

Along the way it changed, as things often do. Somewhere the myriad of diversity went away and the worst of my men took over.

The conversations became diluted and targeted and we were no longer one big Black happy family, we were the she-man-woman-hater group where Black men were oppressed and violated. Still I remained.

Somewhere along the way I started contributing to conversations that in theory I needed to leave all the way the fuck alone.

Conversations about things like rape and consent and the usefulness of Black women.

I often found myself typing for hours – maybe not hours at a time but hours still – trying to get my Black men to not be trash.

One might think this shouldn’t be hard, but for some of them it really is hard. Others are just always gonna be fucking trash and need to be put in rice. My thought was that I chose to speak to those men on the edges who weren’t personally trash but also chose to not call out their trash counterparts. Like the Black woman I am, I thought maybe they just need me to clear the path so they can go out and slay the dragon. It’s what Black women do all the time.  Sadly at times however we find…we must also slay the dragon because the Black men we were out here prepping for decided to not continue to move and fight.

Yes that is something that I’ve grown used to as a Black woman but it never fails to wound. Never.

B and I used to have this debate until I finally got weary of having it with a man I loved.

Let’s be clear, B is a good Black man. Sure he has his flaws, but he is a good man, and he is Black which makes him a good Black man. B gets things that other Black men don’t which is a part of why he’s so special to me.

When B and I were just friends he defended me vigorously. If his spider sense tingled and he thought that someone was fixing their thoughts towards me in a negative direction he was there to stop those thoughts from becoming action. How is that not sexy? How does that not add to me falling in love with him?

A funny thing happened though once we were naked on purpose together, moving that friendship into romance. He suddenly decided I as no longer worth defending with the zeal of days past. I don’t even think it was a conscious decision on his part. I think he saw a different layer of me once we were a couple and realized I was that chick who could wreck shop.

While he wasn’t wrong…he also got it backwards.

I needed him MORE as my knight as my intimate partner than I did as just my friend.

In comparison, my defense of him escalated once we were intimate.  Shit I have associations that are still impacted by my defense of him. It was a no brainer for me though. First as a Black man he deserved my protection, that is why I am on this earth. Second, as my friend it’s my job to hold and counsel. Lastly, once you’ve crossed that line to intimate partner…there is nothing I won’t burn to the ground for you, because once you are in that level it’s me and you against the world. I like our odds.

As I engaged in those circular conversations B was rarely present.

When we would occasionally discuss it, because I avoided those conversations like the motherfucking plague, his response was to the tune of ….you didn’t leave anything for me to do.

He witnessed the efficient and swift weapon of mass destruction I am capable of being and opted to not join the fight.

I mean…ok.

I was often operating from a position of Black feminity and that’s not him, but our discussions on this front always ended the same way…..

Me – you aren’t there for me the way I am for you

Him – at what point is the defense I provide enough why do you get to define that my level of defense is lacking

I visit those conversations from time to time as I walk these Internet streets. Being who I am fights tend to happen not because I am looking for a fight but because I am not capable of witnessing fuck shit happen and say nothing.

I have to revisit those conversations because life shows me that there are some men who DO get it and DO slay those dragons and I have to wonder if the absence of such in my life is because of who I am as Aphrodite or who I choose to surround Aphrodite.

I mean, those other Black men who get it also surround me…they just weren’t my dude…but my dude was ok with letting things slide to an extent.

In his defense he’s not the only one to ever do that. This was a fight, yes a fight I once had with Reginald. When we witnessed some fuck shit going down, his response was ‘we shall not get involved’.

That never sat well with me, and it occurred at a point when everything else about the relationship was unraveling. Eventually I said fuck that but the idea that we were just gonna sit and allow that injustice to stand caused a severe side eye.

Gei held a similar stance, saying baby it’s the Internet.

Except the Internet is full of real life people with these real life issues out here in the real world fucking shit up in real time.

So I had to realize that along this path the one common denominator is ….me.

These Black men weren’t fucking each other, they were fucking me. I chose them, I picked them, I gave them their levels of permission to leash this lioness and then pulled at the harness I asked to wear.

I kind of had to admit that I was asking them to assume my fight and my passion demanding they share it without investigating if they could. That was my bad.

Still, the fact that these special Black men, who are even more special than all of the Black men I cherish can’t seem to find the energy to meet my level doesn’t sit right with me.  It never will until I locate that Black man who does.

There is a level of reciprocity out there, even if I don’t have it at the moment.

In the interim, there are still some trash Black men out here. I want to talk to the ones who aren’t trash.

I love you. I value you. I appreciate you. I will clear your path so that you can proceed to the dragon without hurdle.

Aphrodite Brown