I Needed Somewhere to Put This....

(I felt so damn compelled to write about this and share it with you folk. Will this spark the blogger in me? Who knows. But Lord knows that writing is all I have and I need to find where it fits within my ever-changing soul.)


I loved to baby talk AJ. With my head on his lap, I’d look up at him, staring into his eyes, and tell him how cute his nose, ears and cheeks were, doing so in the most ga-ga-goo way imaginable.

And he would smile. His dimples would show. He couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t hide it. He loved the way I would complement every feature on his face and it would make him feel good. So in approval, he’d lean down to kiss me and I’ll start the whole affirmation process all over again.

I harped back to this situation as I sit here thinking about how much I love to see a Black man smile. Especially since it appears it doesn’t happen often.

I get amazed by pretty teeth. I love crooked smiles as well, head in slight lean. That “I wish you would (in a good way)” smile. But I only see scowls, growls and sighs. Tight faces of anger and disappointment. A face ready to fight. A face showing you how well of a fighter they are.

But I don’t see these faces in boxing rings or street corner fights. I see them on the Metro train. I see then in bars, government buildings and supermarkets. I see them walking the dog or with a loved one. They overwhelm me with questions and I wonder what happened to make them feel as if a smile constitutes weakness.

But to be weak is to not smile. The act of smiling make you feel better, makes the people around you feel better. Let’s the people around you know that you are in a good disposition that can’t be destroyed. Looking mean causes others to be mean. But I guess when life itself is that mean, you don’t really have a reason to.

And that’s what I hear: that life is so hard for Black men that they never have a reason to smile. Their environments prevent them from being genuinely happy. Why smile when your comrades die and when your fights with family and friends cause riffs beyond repair? Why smile when it seems as if The Man is out to get you and why smile when it feels like Black women will never be proud of you. Smiling leads to statistics and toe-tags. There is no reason to look a smidge happy when everyone and everything around you indirectly fucks up your happiness.

That’s why it’s key to find something that make you smile without restraint. That one thing, regardless of how tough your day was, changes your attitude at the drop of a dime. Your children, favorite sports, movie, video game, restaurant, song, etc. Anything that releases the tension.

You deserve to smile. You deserve to be happy. You deserve a hearty laugh. You deserve to raise your eyebrow in satisfaction. You deserve to grab some woman’s attention with those pearly whites, sexy lips and deep dimples. You deserve to look into a mirror and see what I see: attraction and genuine happiness.