Skip to main content

Thug Love: An Oxymoron



I've never been one to date or be attracted to thugs.

You know what...I take that back.

I kissed a dude in high school whose nickname was "Trigger". I thought he was hot as he sported a bandana across his braids a la O-dog from Menace II Society.  But truth be told...he was a poser. He was smart. He wrote poetry. He cared for a mentally disabled sibling. And my HS boyfriend sold bootleg clothes like Jody from Baby Boy and tried to smoke weed and had a gun in his dashboard, but truth of the matter is, he had deeper hurt and was struggling financially. But I wouldn't call them "thugs". Just misguided teenagers trying to find their way.

And I never had or went on a streak of dating "bad boys" either. I'd seen what being attracted to the rough and tumble type had done to women in my family, my mother included: heartache, pain, and overall disrespect.


Thugs are just nice to look at: tattoos, cockiness, hustling and grinding, and the overall well..."just don't give a damn about nothing"-ness makes them so appealing. But the buck stops there. So when I hear women say they want a man who can give her that "thug loving", I find it completely asinine and a little insane.

Thugs can't possibly love.....because they don't love NOR respect themselves enough to think outside of the "thug" box. You cant be a 60 year old hustler. That has to die someday or YOU will die. Thugs find it difficult to commit (i.e. ol Jim Jonez himself). Thugs never stay in one place long, so what makes you think that he'll be around. Thugs come in and out of your life when it is convenient for them.

As for the actual loving, you might like it rough, smacked around and be dominated, but the problem arises when all of that leaves the world of "sexual role play" to actual physical domination in the "real world". Thugs like control. So just when you think the loving was going hard....he's gonna go just as hard with you. A punch there. A slap here. A yell and calling you a "bitch" all recklessly.  Who wants that? And it's exhausting. You fight...then you fuck...then you fight...then you make up and fuck., just like out of that scene in Baby Boy w/ Yvette and Jody.

"I hate you"
"I hate your ass too..."

*5 seconds later*

"Oh JODY! JODY"

Furthermore, for my misguided, wanna be educated sistas, there is no such thing as a "corporate thug": some dude who is hood and street one minute, and business-like the next. Thugs don't have MBA degrees. Thugs aren't running Fortune 500 companies (then again....they are....but not like that). Anyone who is trying to be hard but being corporate...is just frontin'. There is a HUGE difference between having some "street smarts" and being a thug.  Real thugs are in the trap. Real thugs got felonies and can only work construction or "their own bidness". Real thugs aint bout that REAL, mature life, son!

Thug love is a disrespectful type of love that I cant get with. They are disrespcting you and above all else, disrespecting themselves. I think the appeal of the "thug" is that it is a highly sexualized, hyperbolic misrepresentation of what black masculinity and bravado are really about. Somehow, we have constructed a black male gender identity where sex has to be better with a man who is living a highly dangerous, reckless life.  I'll pass on those kind of orgasms. Besides, every thug I know isn't about "making love". Face down, ass up cant be your love-making mantra all the time... It's impersonal. It's indifferent.

I will take  being respected, cared for, and with a man who is respectful of himself and goals over mind-blowing orgasms any day.

If you like thug lovin....to each his own.

Comments

  1. Omg!!! Whoa! Girl, this is your best post YET!!! Loved it!

    Ugh, i was always disgusted by Jody & Yvette's relationship in "Baby Boy." They fighting and carrying on, and he smacks her in her mouth.... and then makes up for it by going down on her and having sex and what not. What a terrible message for young girls to see.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I LOVE Baby Boy that is my hood movie I don't know why I love that movie so much but I will watch it every time it comes on #judgeme

    I got over my love of thugs in high school after my drug dealing friend crush was shot and killed things like that didn't happen back then in small town USA. #ripJericho

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

2018: A Year Without Fear

I used to make these lofty, resolution goals each year. The older I got, the grander my ideas became. That is until I reached the age of 30 and my entire life shifted.

At the time, I was divorced, living totally on my own, trying to rebuild myself financially and trying to figure out my next move toward happiness. That was at the time I started this blog.... which started out as my chronicling the dating and mating of a 30 something divorcee' in the South's Largest Metropolis. I was trying to date. I was trying to establish myself financially. And I was trying to find my purpose.

So much has changed in the almost 9 years since I started this blog. I've traveled alone. I gained and lost friends. I got into a Ph.D. program. I got re-married. I lost my mother, my best friend.... not to mention my uncle, cousin, and aunt. I gained a sweet baby girl.  I went from getting my bliss.... to trying to balance that bliss with my own life..... Yet in trying to find the balance, I alw…

The Ides of Birthdays

My 39th birthday is in two weeks.
*sigh*
You know, I feel like I write the same type of blog around my birthday every year. I get extremely introspective and pensive about the whole thing. But this is my last year of my 30s and I am feeling all of the feelings that have ever and could be felt. I hate trying to bring this up to folks.. who are always wanting to remind you of "well.. you got this.. you got that...". As if you haven't dealt with depression long enough to realize it doesn't matter what you have... if one piece is missing.. it throws it all off.
While yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of my mom's passing, I realized she wouldn't be here for my 40th. That was a hard pill to swallow. I thought for sure we'd be celebrating a lot that year... my Ph.D... a baby... a big, fancy car..... all of that. I only have one of those things so far but still... I was hoping that having her hold on at least until then would be the icing on my cake.
My life feels…

I Had Hope For Other Hair: Confessions in Black Motherhood

I had hoped for other hair...
(My Little One Reading a Book Before Bed)

... for my daughter.

No, I didn't want her to have "good hair"... hair that ebbed and flowed close to the weight of Whiteness. I didn't want that for her.  I didn't want her to have hair that was deemed "managable" or "a good grade". as if you can give hair letter grades or grade it on a curve.

I just wanted her to have any hair other than MY hair. She inherited my hair. And I cried.

When I found out I was having a girl, anxiety was replaced with dread. "Dear God.. I have to learn how to do hair". See, growing up, my mother was my stylist, even way into high school. So in between salon visits, she would relax or press my hair. She'd style it or comb it. And I never worried about it. I tried and tried to do my own hair... and failed. The only style I could keep up were Brandy-inspired box braids (which some poor, Senegalese woman would do for hours) or a very sho…