As many of you know, last Friday I attended the event hosted by Steve Harvey and others entitled: Why Cant a Successful Black Woman Find a Man?

Let me start by saying that I was initially excited to attend this event.  Being that I am an author a book called: A New Black America (shameless plug), I really saw this as an opportunity to network and meet other like-minded individuals who were concerned about the state of black America and relationships. 

Now to my illustration of the event, and what was discussed (Don’t sue me ABC folks) lol

The minute we pulled up near the event parking lot, I realized how very serious the question at hand is.  Immediately, I saw the lines of hundreds…maybe even THOUSANDS of black women lined up to get one of the coveted spots….all for answers to the questions that haunt many of them:

When will I get married?  How will I know when I meet the right one?  How long does one hold on to hope before giving up on love?

I could feel the energy a mile away, and honestly I decided to “keep in moving”  and roll to dinner with my Mr. because there was NO way we were waiting in that line.  Ironically, just as we passed the event I called my friend and fellow author:  Dr.  Alduan Tartt.  Of course he told me to boogie on down to the side door and he would let me…and oh my goodness am I HAPPY I decided to stop being a diva a turn around and go.

Again, the first thing I noticed was the OVERWHELMEING number of single, dare I say thirsty women….looking for answers and possibly a miracle.  There were so many groups of girl friends, colleagues and women on the prowl waiting for the “celebrity guests” to debate and ultimately answer the question:  Why can’t a black woman find a man?

So my fiancé’ and I finally took our seat, and as he gazed around he mumbled to me “babe, I saw snacks out side but there is NO WAY I am getting up and walking around in here, I would get attacked”. Lol.  We both chuckled a bit at his joke…but our smiles quickly faded as the reality of the situation set in.

Just why were so many women at this event, lonely, black, successful and looking for answers? 

Nevertheless, given the recent publicity of the ABS series as well as various other shows such as: What Chilli Wants and All About Pep….apparently the world and black women are DYING to know what the hell is going on and why is there a drought of eligible black men.

As the event started, the moderator (forgive me I forgot her name and was too lazy to research it), immediately hit everyone one in the room with some frightening statistics.

There are approximately 1.8 MILLION more black women than men.

A large percentage of black men are either in prison, have no job or have no college education.

That leaves approximately 27% percent of black men available for a MUCH larger percentage of women to choose from.

As if those stats weren’t enough…then came the “conversation” or “debate” about why successful women find a man.  Onto the stage comes Jacque Reid, and Sherry…along with Steve Harvey, Hill Harper and the dude who wrote: The Denzel Principle.  Hey-shoot me for again not wanting to research his name…I blog for free..lol.

 Anyway, I think to myself:  This is gonna be REALLY good…or completely useless.  We are black folks…there is no in between. Lol.  Nevertheless, regardless of the hour late start…I am all ears.

 So the discussion kicks off….rather cordially and somewhat entertainingly.  And the men and women begin by expressing their various opinions…which I will now summarize:

 There is a general lack of communication between black men and women.

Black Women are fatigued and guarded and are tired of investing in men who do not already “have it together”.

Black men are tired of the demands being placed on them by the world and their women.

There are SEVERAL myths about black relationships that are perpetuated that are simply NOT TRUE such as black men preferring white women when they become successful.

Black women expect their men to be their EVERYTHING including the person to take out their weave when they need it (Sherry Sheppard).

Older black men have failed to set an example for younger men on how to properly treat women (Steve Harvey)

Black women are tired of feeling like when they are successful, their men will be jealous and resentful.

Black women fail to see “potential” in mates and prefer to go for people who already have a level of success which is a huge mistake (Steve Harvey)

Again, after much laughter and conversation, the statements above just about summarize what was discussed.  But at the end of the day, the question still remained:  How do we fix this?  And ultimately, that question was never answered.

 Now, if you don’t mind ABC people, I would like to take a stab at answering the question for everyone who left entertained, yet disappointed:

First of all, successful women CAN find a man, they just have trouble finding a man that suits them and their often extremely long LAUNDRY list of requirements.  Unlike other cultures, we some times lack the patience and understanding that is so desperately needed by our black men.  We often confuse “putting up with their foolishness” with patience….and I contend that these two things ARE NOT one and the same.  We have got to learn to start pouring into men that have potential, not chasing the few men who have already made it. 

I’m from Atlanta, and when I tell you that there are THOUSANDS of beautiful, charming and otherwise delicious STRAIGHT men everywhere, I mean just that.  But what do many of us “successful” women do?  We let our success go to our heads.  We mistakenly think that we can plan love, mating and relationships like we plan our next board meeting.  We often meet men who we on some level find attractive, but we begin nit picking and canceling them out WELL before we think about what WE can do to make them better.

Sure there are people are going to say:  NUUUH UH VEEE…not me!!! But again, I challenge these very ladies to take a hard look in the mirror.  Try broadening your horizons a little.  When is the last time you took a second look at the garbage man or mechanic?  When is the last time you stopped trail blazing and took a minute to invest in a brother who could help you fulfill your own destiny? Why was I one of the ONLY ladies sitting on the sidelines at the football field watching hundreds of fellas play this past weekend?

Not to go on a long rant, but the answer is simple.  There are men everywhere…broaden you horizon, date another race…hell move to another state if you have to.  But WHATEVER you do, don’t believe the hype about not finding a man. 

Lastly, the social ills that plague our community are almost endless.  And THIS my friends is exactly why I wrote my book:  A New Black America.  Give it a chance…it has over 65 topics that cover topics such as women who wear the pants in a relationship and men who are users.  Think about really investing in yourself and becoming more conscious.  It is going to take ALL OF US being more are in order to turn things around.  I hope you enjoyed, and please free to respond.

Until Next time-
V. Malveaux
http://www.anewblackamerica.com

But what do you really know about them? What makes that person who they are today? What is their background beyond the days; months or maybe even years you have known them?

Today, many of you know me as an author, public speaker, mom and maybe even adversary…lol. Yes I do have haters on my face book page…but anyway, I digress.

Anyway, before you loose interest, let me get to my point. I was randomly driving around this Sunday, actually looking for an event facility and I realized that if I stayed on this particular road I was driving on, I would end up right where my life, in many ways began.

Thus the name of my blog/short story, or whatever you want to call it: All Roads Lead Home.

So as many of you know, and as I state in my book I was born and raised in Atlanta, GA. My life has been moving so fast for the last 20 years or so that I didn’t even realize that I have rarely taken time to pause…and pay homage to my roots.

Honestly speaking, as I cruised down Cascade road, I suddenly realized that I had not traveled that road in MANY MANY years. So I say to myself, let’s see…where this road leads.

Needless to say, Cascade road is and always will be “memory lane” for me.
On a daily basis, I casually ride around in my nice car, relax in my nice home and stroll in to my “good job” without even reflecting on what has made V. Malveaux the lady she is today.

So as I wander further away from my current “neighborhood”, I get closer and closer to a familiar place….this place is referred to West Atlanta. Now mind you, this isn’t the west Atlanta you see on commercials…this is the REAL west Atlanta. West Atlanta was the place where candy ladies made a few bucks a day out of their closet and the place where the fire station was the safest place to hang out. This is the place where rappers like T.I. “earned their stripes”. This is where it all began for me.

So initially I am rolling down the street with a smile on my face…wow, I cannot WAIT to see what my old neighborhood looks like. I remember the world being SOOOO big. I remember walking everywhere on foot…to the mall, to the “Chinese place”, to and from school. I remember all the beautiful homes and kids playing in the streets. I remember……

One of the many abandoned buildings…

Wait a minute! My day dreaming is suddenly disrupted by a feeling in my gut that is so very hard to describe. Could it be? Wowwwww….it is. I have finally made it to the “other side” of the tracks…and it ain’t a pretty sight.

I have managed to travel from my “swanky” neighborhood…just 15 minutes or less down the road to where my old stomping ground USED to be. Gasp- I knew things were “rough” in the hood…but is THIS what the inner city of Atlanta has become?

As I ride by my favorite childhood places, my emotions build to the point that my body has to react. I am actually shaking….and I have to admit, a little fearful. My old neighborhood is a ghost town. However, there are many living souls walking around. How could this be?

Is THIS the neighborhood that I talk about during radio and T.V. interviews? Is THIS the place that I reference when trying to tell people how I relate to their daily struggles? Is this the place where my plight for “A New Black America” really began?

These are some of the questions that began to race through my head at the speed of light. Nevertheless, I quiet my mind…..and decide to capture my old “neighborhood” and reflect on this one road…the road that has led me to “home”.

So immediately I say to myself: V, you must document this. You must share your story with your daughter…and you must show your family, who in many ways has “escaped” where the neighborhood has ended up.

Suddenly the reality of where I am, where I come from and where I am going slaped me in the face. I reach in my Louis Vuitton purse, pull out my “bedazzled” $400+ phone and begin to take pictures. As I grip my wood grain stirring wheel, I solemnly take pictures…and begin to capture what’s left of my old neighborhood.

I mention the items above, not to brag…but to add perspective and possibly express the irony in what is happening. I spend more on a phone and phone accessories then we had to spend in a month on an entire family growing up. Ain’t this something?

The Chinese spot that was open for 40+ years

But back to my journey…so here we go: The Chinese place on the corner, which was there for over 40 years…CLOSED. The elementary school that I attended and had to fight for my life many many times, looking ragged and worn…yet still open and desperately trying to shape young minds. The candy lady, long gone after being robbed at gun point, the alley that I walked down every day to get home…littered with trash. The corner store, which I brought dog food from for 37 cents a can…lord knows what was in that stuff…still there, but reeking of the smell of “hand-me-down meat”. And lastly….Derry Avenue. The place where both magic and mayhem happened.

J.C. Harris. My old school

It’s almost like the journey thus far had been an appetizer that prepared me for the main course. I wonder what my “old house” looks like. I wonder how the place where I had my first pet, got saved, got shocked by the old school metal in the kitchen and dropped things down the furnace in the floor to see what happened was doing.

So I snap photos, becoming increasingly concerned about what I would find. An abandoned house here, a lost soul wandering the street there. And there it is…my old residence…shabby, broken and condemned. Wow this is a shocker….what has happened to the place where so many pertinent memories were born?

One of my childhood homes…Derry Avenue

This has been such an interesting journey. Once the shock wears…and I gather my thoughts, I begin to look around and see what else has changed. I remember the world and my neighborhood looking so big when I was younger. I remember thinking that my neighbors yellow house was a mansion. I remember feeling safe…and not really having a care in the world. Yet here I am, in yet another reality…20+ years later. Sitting on the side of the road, in my luxury car, with my expensive phone…trying to look like: I know this place….and being met with curious stares.

The “locals” are looking at me like: Is she a cop? Is she a journalist? Is she some “well to do” lady who has come here to mock us? Not at all…is what I want to say to them…this is my home. You know I only live 15 minutes from here…

But ofcourse…this isn’t a safe place to plead my case. So I take my photos, stop by a few more places: The welfare office, the cemetery, the west end mall where I still occasionally shop. And I cry dry tears…because what was once my reality is someone’s current night mare. Thus my plight….for A New Black America.

I encourage everyone to strive to make a difference in this world….regardless of their back ground or maybe even where they are today. Never let the acquisition of material things take you too far from where you came from. Never forget that no matter where you go in life…all roads lead home. I am proud of where I come from…because I am a survivor, unlike many of my fallen friends. I encourage you to do or be the same. More to come one day…maybe soon, maybe not.

Until next time, I hope you enjoyed my little short story.
Peace-
V. Malveaux
http://www.anewblackamerica.com