Male-Identified

"Good job brotha good job…"

This is what I heard along with thunderous applause from a group of young guys… about 18-20… while I was waiting to get my eyebrows waxed at South Dekalb Mall. They were all applauding…but only one guy expressed verbal accolade to the young man he pretty much deemed “pimp of the mall” for having this beautiful woman on his side.
I got a glimpse of the young “diva’s” face as she glided by with her man in front of her and his hand reaching back for her tiny waist . She was beautiful, I must admit. She had that “classic” beauty...you know the type of girl that transcends racial preferences. Long dark curly hair, bright eyes that could easily be seen through her pinkish shades… her face was flawless… perfectly symmetrical and blemish free. She had a light complexion and her make up consisted of a lot of glitter and pink tones…I guess to match her shades. She had on a fitting black dress with most of the back out and a low cut scoop to show her cleavage. She had a stride going… up until the exchange between her b/f and ole young blood where he had to abruptly stop and change positions with her in order to get through the crowd of “Armpiece Groupies”. Before then, she was walking proudly behind her man. Yes behind him. But she still shined like the sun. I actually had to look twice because of how stunningly confident she walked. She held her head so high that I thought for a second she might have had a nosebleed or something. But I guess after constantly hearing how fine/sexy/beautiful you are… you might acquire such an air about yourself. Her b/f was just as confident if not more. He had on a nice linen outfit with some dark shades and he looked like he just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine. The only time I saw Ms. Diva’s expression change from “nosebleed/stuck up” is when ole young blood started applauding her boyfriend. She was quite pleased at this show of approval. She didn’t turn back to look at them… but I did see a small smirk/grin/smile of “I know I’m the bomb, but thanks so much for letting everyone else know too” appear on her face. Then instantly she wiped the smile off her face and presumed gliding on behind her b/f again and returning to the “nosebleed” expression.

When applauded, bowed to (yes one mofo did bow) , and basically told that he did a great job.. Mr. GQ slightly nodded at them as to say “I know” while pulling his girlfriend in front of him until they passed the groupies…err…group of guys..then he presumed to take his “rightful” role in front of her again. He never broke stride…never smiled… and probably didn’t care. The only time I saw his focus turn was when another girl walked by. He’d peek out the top of his shades to look at one and then another... All while Ms. Diva happily glided behind him in her own little world…probably not even knowing that he was checking everyone else but her out. She was just there for his glory. So that guys can envy him…while he looked around for other eye candy.

My mind began to reminisce on the times I used to hear the same kind of things shouted at my man about me. I used to really think of them as compliments. You know…one man telling another that he did a great job picking me out because I was beautiful.. I mean that is a compliment right? Ha. Well I used to think so. But for some reason, stepping out of the “object of desire” and seeing it done to another young woman I began to realize how incredibly shallow and degrading that is. I mean, you tell a guy he did a good job picking a car…a job…an outfit… not a woman. Like she had NO say/imput/control in this “picking” ordeal. Like he just said… “I want that one.." and grabbed her with his barbaric man arms and she just helplessly went with him. And to top it all off…how do they know she’s a good pick? I mean are we just going on the basis of looks? Ugh. That’s a whole nother topic. So I digress…

I mean if you think I’m cute…look at me... smile at me… and if you’re balls-y enough…then tell me. But don’t make me look like one of pimp daddy’s girls while he gets praise for being a big enough P.I.M.P. to pull me. I mean, I can’t explain it. I dunno. I’ve been pondering whether I reacted this way because I was jealous that I wasn’t the one being commented on…or was it because I honestly saw something wrong with it now. After much thought….i realized that the only time I get jealous about something is when I have some stake or claim in the man I think she’s taking away/getting/working on…so it must be the latter.

I learned a lot in my women studies class in college. We talked a lot about the “oppressed”. Our teacher was a bi-racial lesbian coming from a poor family… so we talked a lot about multiple jeopardy and how it can affect ones psyche. Anywho. When I saw the scene above being played out before my very eyes…all I could think of was this term called “Male-Identification”. Male-identification basically means the casting of one's social, political, and intellectual allegiances with men. The effect of male-identification means internalizing the values of the colonizer and actively participating in carrying out the colonization of one's self and one's sex. This happens in any situation you see stratifications in… (race, sexual preference, class, and other underserved pops). Basically it describes women who only feel a sense of self-worth when they are around men, get praises from men, think they are better because of their association with a man..and etc. They live through men.

I guess the reason it made me think of this is because after I started thinking about why it bothered me so much, I realized it was because it was so much more than a compliment about how pretty she was... and her approval of their words was so much more than a "thanks". I mean, for me it was more about the implications of what they were saying and her blindness to it.
First off...they didn’t give her enough respect to tell HER about herself. Instead, they respected HIM for basically having an arm piece. And when I looked at them (she and her b/f) interact with each other for the brief 2-3 minutes I saw them in the mall… she seemed to be the kind of girl that really needed her man there to feel important/special/beautiful. It’s almost like she isn’t that beautiful by herself... I began to realize it wasn’t just her physical beauty the young man was complimenting… it was her submissive attitude with her b/f. His presence there and his unspoken but ever-present power over her is what made her beautiful to the young guys and it’s why they complimented HIM instead of HER. He wasn’t really saying.. “wow she’s pretty” He was saying , “Wow she’s pretty.. and dang you a bonified pimp to get a girl that fine to hang on to your every word and be all up on you while you walk around looking at all the other females in the mall and all she does is stay quiet and look cute.”
He was basically saying “Good job brotha” for molding another one into JUST a clueless, submissive, arm piece. And all she did was smile.

Now granted… I don’t know this young lady… she might have been at the top of her class. She could be a biostatistitian for all I know… but the fact was that she wasn’t being complimented on that… her aora didn’t say “I’m a confident black sista who’s happy with herself and demands respect from you”… it said “I’m cute…and I’m with my boyfriend… and I want everyone to know it.”
I guess what get’s me is the fact that she actually thought of it as a compliment. The fact that one point in my life… I thought it was a compliment. The fact that we as women are so male-identified and don't know it. Some of us like when our man is complimented, or lifted up or exalted (which isn't wrong in itself)... sometimes more than we like it for ourselves... why? Because we live through our man.. it reflects our status. That's the way some of us "pull ourselves up". It's like being Mrs. John Doe all over again. We have no identity of our own...except we have it through some man. And until we realize that not everything that "sounds" good on the surface is a compliment and that not every show of approval we get from a guy is actually for our benefit...i'm afraid we'll always be male identified.

I dunno… maybe I had too much time on my hands sitting there waiting to get my eyebrows waxed at the mall. I WAS a psyc. Major… and yeah I DO overanalyze everything… so thanks for reading another pointless post. lol