Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged First...

Interesting week that was in the life of your favorite sports writer. The last paper dropped Monday evening, and yours truly wrote an editorial about the Duke Rape Case being about white privlege and what I called "the unapologetic devaluation of the black woman and her body" (yes, your boy is a wordsmith, a metaphorical gangster). Upon reading my diatribe against all things pro-white and anti-sista, DSU sports information director Dennis Jones made the understatement of the century; "Chris, they are gonna run you out of here." I laughed my head off because I could imagine the growing caucasian populus at Delaware State being offended and uncomfortable with my piece. Eh, they'll survive.

Then Dennis brought up a valid point. Point being that brothers haven't exactly treated Black women like queens of the Earth either. And I got to thinking about my own transgressions, and it was one of those "damn, I've been had" moments. I instantly thought back to my evil ways which I'm still guilty of projecting onto black women. My angry cries of "y'all ain't s**t" and my assumption that "all females want this, that, and the third in a guy" all went against the stuff I wrote. Damn, I feel like a big ol' hypocrite.

I do believe that I have to stand up for myself as to not be taken advantage of by random females, but sometimes I go overboard and project my bitterness, insecurities, assumptions and general hatred onto other women, 85 percent of which don't deserve it. I know I'm wrong, but it's like someone with an addiction, a vice, a thing if you will. It's hard to kick a habit that you know so well, and almost find comfort in. It's almost a perverse feeling, like I get off on telling women off. That's not good at all.

And it's not like I don't love black women, I mean my mother is one of the greatest I know for crying out loud. Yet, now that I've realized that not every woman is going to care about me the way she does, it's almost like "to hell with all y'all." I do love sistas who are real, independent, successful, sweet, kind, caring, intelligent, funny, good looking, average looking, all of the above. But the few bad apples I seem to consistently run into spoil the bunch.

It's a tough situation that I hope I can break out of in the near future. Then maybe I won't be such a hypocrite.