"The whisper of substance, the suggestions of elegance, and opulent spirits were the high points of Black women in my time. We, as boys, and later men, had to reach the higher part of our being for a woman's conversation, and the lowest part of our beings were subjugated to silence in her presence if her substance was fine in the sands of time, and her depth demanded introspection on our part. It was part of the game we played to develop up to the standards of the best within the best of women we knew we needed in our lives as friends, lovers, or mates.
But the world my parents created for me, and the one I dreamt and created was not the norm. In the harsh crude and coarse worlds most men lived in these lofty essences I saw, and spoke to were reduced within men's estimation of women into smoke blown in the wind. Women are not poetry in crude worlds where guffaws are expected to be enough of a greeting, or permission to fuck." - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 8/15/12
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