I've previously asked, what comes first: our identity as a woman or as a Black being? Personally, I knew that the answer was and always will be my racial identity at the forefront of my entire being.
My blackness is so deeply ingrained in me that I can't see myself, including my gendered experience without it. One of the most prevalent characteristics informed by this identity of Black womanhood is the obligatory task of hoisting cisgendered, heterosexual Black men on our backs and breathing life into them—even when they're undeserving.
When I say "undeserving," I'm speaking on the men who women experience physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of. I'm speaking of the men who are guilty of their sins and the men that we, sometimes, continue to support.
As Black women, we find ourselves tasked with raising all black men except we aren't always raising them — at times, we're loving them to death. It's as I've heard said so many times before, "we raise our daughters and love our sons." This insulates a sense of entitlement that Black men can't afford to have and the entitlement ensures them the right to a fight for justice with the mighty fist of their women despite the evidence that may accurately and justly prove his guilt.
We remain silent about our own abuse and pain because we fear that we're otherwise contributing to the demise of our brothas and aiding the white folks' agenda to continuously and publicly criminalize them.
Unlike the hegemonic culture, we give the benefit of the doubt to our men instead of our women in cases of sexual assault, which I feel are both dangerous practices, that could result in an injustice for either party. Nonetheless, it's a practice we must find a smart balance with and learn to navigate in the age of social media, where a trial of public opinion is almost always made.
We continue to support entertainers and athletes after reports and, in some cases, admission of abuse in many forms, simply because it's a privilege typically reserved for white men and we tend to relish in the thought of attaining that status. With full assurance from the "What Would White People Do" committee, we find comfort in escaping punishment as if it serves as justice for the injustice we faced during the crimes we were falsely accused of. So, when it seems like our men can escape the consequences and live in a white man's world, we allow them to live out that fantasy.
Even if for only a moment.
We've seen this with R. Kelly who has had a 30-year career unscathed until recently, or in Angela Rye's quickness to defend radio host Charlamagne, who has had one too many misunderstandings and instances of improperly articulating his position on rape culture once too many times for my own liking. This defense was especially prevalent in the early stages of Bill Cosby's accusations coming to light.
I don't like it, but I do get it.
With our culture so closely observed under the microscope of white America, we don't want to provide more reasons to be demonized. We don't want to be the reason another Black man is imprisoned, but we have to realize who we're marginalizing by only demanding justice when it serves the Black men in our community. And it's us, Black women. There has to be a certain level of accountability that we hold ourselves and our men too. After all, a crime is a crime.
We can't tolerate and consciously advocate for a crime to go unpunished to simply "one up" the justice system.
A justice system that does not serve all people is not a justice system that we want, and furthermore, one that only serves to acquit men of their toxic masculinity is one where no woman is safe.
The idea that Black women's hurt has to go on ice to unjustly protect Black men doesn't sit well with me. It's an injustice, and especially to our little girls, as it sends the message that their voices won't ever be heard when they fix their lips to say, "Me too." Not really.
With Ava DuVernay calling for the head of R. Kelly, the #MeToo and #TimesUp movement holding men accountable, it's clear that we're making progress. The "woke" rhetoric is spreading like wildfire and even if it is only the latest social justice trend, we need to ensure that we're fanning the flames in the right direction and holding the right dialogues.
This means educating women on the implications of supporting seemingly guilty men. This means understanding what rape is because at its core, it means ending the slut-shaming and victim-blaming that says women deserved it because we were being "fast," whether that be portrayed through an ensemble or actions. But especially deading this whole logic and ignorance, by having these discussions with our little boys and girls.
However, what this does not mean is going on witch hunts for women who we feel aren't doing their part to hold men accountable, as I have seen done to Angela Rye and any other woman who has not verbally spat on those accused of sexual assault. And just one more time, for the people in the back: it does not mean protecting guilty Black men at the cost of further denying Black women safety and peace of mind. That includes creepy uncles, fathers, boyfriends, and strangers alike. It is not our duty to create a safe space for abusers or any crime against women.
Black women have learned how to carry the burdens of Black men since the dawn of time, making ourselves and our self-care an afterthought. We can't continue to be the Black face of vigilantism, not if we're really going to create change in our community.
If we intend to do that, it's time to put them down and lift us up.
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While speaking to xoNecole, Eva shares that she’s a lot like the beloved 1994 character in many ways. “Lyric is so me. She's the odd flower. A flower nonetheless, but definitely not a peony,” she tells us.
“She's not the average flower you see presented, and so she reminds me of myself. I'm a sunflower, beautiful, but different. And what I loved about her character then, and even more so now, is that she was very sure of herself.
"Sure of what she wanted in life and okay to sacrifice her moments right now, to get what she knew she deserved later. And that is me. I'm not an instant gratification kind of a person. I am a long game. I'm not a sprinter, I'm a marathon.
America first fell in love with Eva when she graced our screens on cycle 3 of America’s Next Top Model in 2004, which she emerged as the winner. Since then, she's ventured into different avenues, from acting on various TV series like House of Payne to starring on Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Je-Caryous Johnson Entertainment
Eva praises her castmates and the play’s producer, Je’Caryous for her positive experience. “You know what? Je’Caryous fuels my audacity car daily, ‘cause I consider myself an extremely audacious woman, and I believe in what I know, even if no one else knows it, because God gave it to me. So I know what I know. That is who Je’Caryous is.”
But the mom of three isn’t the only one in the family who enjoys acting. Eva reveals her daughter Marley has also caught the acting bug.
“It is the most adorable thing you can ever see. She’s got a part in her school play. She's in her chorus, and she loves it,” she says. “I don't know if she loves it, because it's like, mommy does it, so maybe I should do it, but there is something about her.”
Overall, Eva hopes that her contribution to the role and the play as a whole serves as motivation for others to reach for the stars.
“I want them to walk out with hope. I want them to re-vision their dreams. Whatever they were. Whatever they are. To re-see them and then have that thing inside of them say, ‘You know what? I'm going to do that. Whatever dream you put on the back burner, go pick it up.
"Whatever dream you've accomplished, make a new dream, but continue to reach for the stars. Continue to reach for what is beyond what people say we can do, especially as [a] Black collective but especially as Black women. When it comes to us and who we are and what we accept and what we're worth, it's not about having seen it before. It's about knowing that I deserve it.”
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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Fortunately, five simple words have simplified my dating process and ushered in clarity faster: “Would my husband do this?”
A couple of years ago, I met an entertainment lawyer who was tonguing down a twenty-something-year-old woman for breakfast while I slurped my green smoothie and chomped on a flatbread sandwich. Okay, Black love, I grinned and thought as I sauntered out of the Joe & The Juice. As soon as I stepped down from the front door, a torrential downpour of Miami summer rain cascaded and throttled me back inside to wait out the storm.
I grabbed a hot green tea and vacillated between peering out the wet door and anxiously checking my watch. My lengthy agenda started with attending the Tabitha Brown and Chance Brown’s “Black Love” panel, and I was already late. That’s when the lawyer introduced himself to me, after he made a joke about neither one of us wanting to get soaked by the rain. His female companion had braved the storm, leaving us to find our commonalities.
We both lived in L.A. and had traveled to the American Black Film Festival to expand our network. He represented various artists, including entertainment writers, while I was working as a writer/creative producer in Hollywood.
While there is no shortage of internet advice on how to strategically meet a prominent man at conferences, if I spend my hard-earned funds on career growth, I have tunnel vision, and that doesn’t include finding Mr. Right. So, I stowed his contact details away as strictly professional.
Keep It Cute Love And Hip Hop GIFGiphyAs the humidity and mosquitoes were rising around L.A., two months later, another suitor-turned-terrible match cooled off after three unimpressive dates and a bevy of red flags. I posted what some of my friends called a thirst trap, but it was really me wearing a black freakum jumpsuit with a plunging neckline to my friend’s 35th birthday soiree despite feeling oh, so unsexy and bloated on my cycle.
I’d been waiting to post a sassy caption and finally had the perfect picture to match: “You not asking for too much, you just asking the wrong MF.”
That’s when the entertainment lawyer swooped into my DMs and asked me to dinner. I was quite confused. Is he asking me on a date? Or is this professional? Common sense would’ve picked the former. Once it clicked that this would in fact be a date, I told my mentor, who’s been happily married for over twenty years and has often been a guiding light and has steered me away from the wrong men.
Upon telling him about how we met, he emphatically stated, “He ain’t it.” He followed up with a simple question, "You have to ask yourself: Would my husband do this? Would you tell others that you met your husband, tonguing down another woman, and later married him?"
Aint It No Way GIF by UFCGiphyOuch. The thought-provoking question cleared any haze. Prior to going out with the lawyer, the first thing I inquired about was the woman.
“You saw that?” He said, taken aback that I’d witnessed his steamy PDA. Surely, anyone with two open eyes peeped him caressing her backside as he kissed her in the middle of the coffee shop.
He brushed her off as a casual someone he’d gone on a couple of dates with but had since stopped talking to. He said he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in over three years. Though I was still doubtful, dating in L.A. is treacherous and ephemeral. Making it past three months is considered a rarity.
With my antennae alert, I dined with him at a cozy beachside steakhouse restaurant where we were serenaded by a live jazz band. I’d emphasized forming a platonic friendship first.
Break Up Friendship GIF by TLCGiphy“I’ll come to you,” he obliged. I liked that he had made me a priority by driving over 50 miles to see me. I also liked the effort he made to check in with me daily. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he initiated on a professional pretense and then alley hooped through the back door on a romantic venture, which bombarded me with confusion.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my dating life, God is not the author of confusion; any man who brings confusion, rather than clarity, is simply not The One. It doesn’t matter how many boxes he checks–eventually, that confusion will manifest itself into bigger problems, in time.
After diving into deeper conversations on the phone, post our first dinner date, I quickly realized this man was indeed not The One for me. But I’m grateful for the valuable lesson I learned.
I don’t expect some unattainable fairytale of a husband; we all have our own flaws and conflict is inevitable, but after dating for two decades, through failure and success, I’ve realized that the person I ultimately marry must mirror the values I exert into the world. He must reciprocate kindness, patience, and respect. He must be quick to listen and slow to respond. He needs to be forgiving and trustworthy, practice healthy communication, and be a man of his word at the bare minimum.
If I’d had “Would my husband do this?” in my toolbox when I was dating and floundering in stagnant relationships, in my twenties, it would’ve saved me a lot of precious time. But now that I’m equipped with the reminder, it’s allowed me to ground myself in my non-negotiables and set/maintain the standard for the special person, I’ll one day say, “I do,” to.
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