<h4>Dear Queen: </h4><p><em>"Protect me." </em></p><p><em>"Honor me." </em></p><p><em>"Love me."</em></p><p><em></em>The asks from you, our sisters are deceptively simple; yet executing those asks, for too many brothers, is apparently too hard. I should know. It's been hard for me, as much as I'd like to lie and say it wasn't. </p><h5>Showing care shouldn't be complicated - especially when those same women shower me with examples of the care I can't seem to reciprocate. </h5><p>This isn't to say I don't know the worth of Black women. </p><p>Oh, I do.</p><p><span></span>I love your brutal honesty that, almost always, is accompanied by an offer to help; a wisdom that borders on clairvoyance; an almost obsessive desire for self-improvement; endless empathy for the disenfranchised. </p><p>I appreciate your walk, emboldened with confidence culled from the spirits of a thousand ancestors, all sashaying in unison with your stride; selflessness that borders emotional immolation, yet ultimately yields communion with the divine; loyalty that extends beyond reason; so far beyond reason, in fact, that it breaks rules of time and space, creating the confidence to validate your loyalty in the first place. </p><p><span></span>I value your ability to laugh at the inane, the insane, and the immature; a supernatural focus on setting, measuring, attaining and celebrating goals; multitasking skills that allow for so many very different things (child-rearing, jobs, weekend side hustles, brunches with the girls) to be done at the same time, well. </p><p><span></span>I appreciate your style - all of your styles, from the bourgie to the round the way to everything in between - that are emulated but never fully duplicated.</p>
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<h4>I appreciate the intentional way you approach life. Always thought-out. Always planned.<br></h4><p><span></span>Always true.</p><p><span></span>So yes, I know what I love well. And I know so much - too much - of what I love is centered around enduring and overcoming the obstacles I place in your way. </p><p>I struggle with expressing my love for Black women, then, because the things I appreciate too often come from acceptance and forgiveness of my shortcomings: patience because I was lost; kindness because I needed healing; strength when I was not enough. </p><p><div class="adRUPTad medrectangle" data-adunit="medrectangle"></div><div class="ad-tag">
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</div></p><p><span></span>My entire concept of appreciation, then, is rooted in selfishness. The fact that Black women know this and still choose to love me despite me is a point of appreciation, sure, but also a point of guilt. </p><h5>I have not protected you when the protection did not include me. I did not honor you when they could not hear my voice. I only loved you to the extent I received that love from you two times over. </h5><p><span></span>I have to do better. I must do better. I will do better. And the first step in doing better is admitting that I was not doing enough to begin with. </p><p><span></span>So, for the Black women who say, "I love you Black man," but don't hear it back. For the Black women hurting for Ahmaud and George but feel like <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/article/breonna-taylor-police.html" target="_blank">Breonna</a> was forgotten. For the Black women who work under Amy Coopers but don't have the luxury of videotaping her, I love you. I always have. I always will.</p><p><span></span>And I will work on myself so I can finally show you better than I can tell you.</p><p><em>Dear Queen is a series dedicated to letters from women and men written for themselves and other women. Have a "Dear Queen" letter? We want to read it! E-mail your letters to submissions@xonecole.com. Subject: 'Dear Queen'</em></p><p><em>Featured image by Shutterstock</em></p>
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