My road to my current relationship was a long one. I had been single for just over a year—not exactly a long period of time, but my last situation was pretty superficial and lighthearted, and I had wanted for something of significance for far longer than that. In the midst of a summer that had been host to a revolving door of for-the-moment boos, it seemed like I almost accidentally fell for someone who I just didn’t see coming. By the third date, I had a feeling he’d be around for a while, and within a week of that, we were damn near inseparable. It was pretty shocking for me: I’d been waiting all of this time for something special and magic and safe—and here it was, staring me in the face and loving me back.

But for all of the happiness and good vibes, it was still hard for me to totally accept that I was actually winning the love game for once. It took quite a while before I stopped asking myself, “Will today be the day that he decides he doesn’t want me?” How defeatist and sad is that? I never questioned my personal worth, but it was hard for me to accept that, yes, things were going that well and that someone truly wanted to love me at the same time I wanted to love him.

I also had some fears over other women. They weren’t completely unfounded; he’s had a few missteps in his romantic past and there were some ex-flames who didn’t seem pleased with being extinguished once I entered the picture. He made every possible attempt to show me that he was not only serious about us, but completely divested from these other young women. I was privy to text messages, emails and phone conversations in which he said in no uncertain terms that he had a new lady and that he wasn’t about anything else at that point. Did that immediately clear up my doubts? Hell no. But between his actions (so far as I can observe them) and his words, I feel confident in his intentions to be faithful and his honesty with me up to this point.

My insecurities didn’t put a major strain on our budding relationship because I handled them early on (and, to be fair, I have a partner who is really understanding and, well, really invested in what it is we are doing). Had I continued to pick at him about, “How do I know you ain’t gonna just call her back up?” after he had already answered all of my reasonable questions (and then some), I could have done some serious damage to our bond. I finally learned to get out of my head and let my man be good to me. Instead of worrying over what could go wrong, I’m enjoying what’s going right. Now, I’m no fool; I haven’t made blind my eyes to the possibility of trouble, and I think I could recognize a red flag if I saw one. But anticipating or fearing the worst isn’t my focus; loving each moment together is.

If you put a lot of time or energy into your search for a partner, when you’ve found a good thing . . . enjoy it! Your relationship is, in some ways, the result of your own hard work, and you should savor the sweet reward. Don’t let your insecurities cause you to chase away something you’ve wanted for so long.

Be aware, but also be free to be loved.

The post Relax Yourself Girl, Please Settle Down appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

As a lifetime member of this subset of Black America, I have a complicated relationship with the Black church. For starters, I think it would be incredibly unwise for any Black person to deny the debt of gratitude our community owes to the church for the work it has done for our people. From Reconstruction to the Civil Rights Movement and beyond, our Christian houses of worship and their members have done a great deal to fight for our rights and provide needed services ( childcare, homeless shelters, rehab facilities, etc.) to our people. I first visited my now alma mater on a college tour organized by Trinity Universal Church of Christ, led by Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Growing up in Chicago, I always admired him along with a handful of other preachers for being outspoken advocates of the needs of Black Chicagoans.

The impact of our churches on Black culture (or perhaps I should say, the influence of our culture on the church) is a great one and I am not immune to that either. I’ve certainly hollered out “Amen” and “Lawd!” or felt the need to “testify”. Though I’m not a subscriber to the main idea, as someone who is interested in who we are culturally and creatively, I see a lot of the beauty of Blackness in the church and I can appreciate that. The church has given many of us the opportunity to shine creatively though song and dance and though I don’t particularly like Gospel music, I am well aware that without it, a lot of my favorite singers would have never honed their craft.

I won’t get all the way into my reasons for not accepting Christianity, because I don’t think they have much relevance here. However, I will say that the proselytizing I get from Christians has been more of a deterrent than any sort of incentive to reconsider my beliefs. I don’t always feel that I’m given the same space to embrace my views that some of Christ’s followers demand for themselves. I’d never think to say to a Christian “You know, you should really consider quitting the church and trying to see the world my way…” and I’d like to be shown the same respect.

What’s worse is that people tend to assume I’m Christian for no other reason I can think of other than because most Black folks are. I’m totally okay with being asked “Are you religious?” or “What is your religious background?”, but do you know how awkward it is to explain that you aren’t a Christian when someone asks “Do you have a church home?” Oftentimes, the next question is “Are you a Muslim?” which seems to be a respectable excuse to some folks and a barely passable one for others.

There is a loneliness that sometimes accompanies being outside the religious majority. As a Black Nationalist and feminist, I’m certainly used to having feelings that are left of center. But even folks who dig my politics have been known to serve the serious side-eye when they find out that I don’t worship Jesus. In White publications, I see articles asking ‘could you date someone of a different religion’, but with us, it’s questions over dating non-Christians or Christians who don’t attend church regularly. I also deeply resent being referred to as a ‘non-believer’, as if the only ‘belief’ that counts is in the Holy Trinity.

When an old episode of Aaron McGruders’ The Boondocks lampooned Tyler Perry, I couldn’t help but to wonder about the cartoonist’s religious background. I couldn’t find any substantial information online, but between the way he fried Perry’s “relationship” with Jesus and some of the more subtle jabs he took at the Black church in his comic strip back in the day, I get the impression that he’s like me. With the way his Perry-esque “Winston Jerome” character and his followers used Jesus as an excuse for some seriously questionable behavior, McGruder managed to capture how…forgive me for not finding a gentler word…ridiculous some of our Christian folks can look to those of us outside the religion (and probably to a lot of people inside as well).

While I realize that the Black church is not monolithic nor are it’s followers, there are certain recurrent themes that have emerged from that group that I take issue with (including the lack of acceptance of homosexuality and gay marriage and pushback against keeping abortion legal). It also drives me insane when people refer to the Bible during debates about things that effect the lives of people outside of Christianity. I realize that Black folks and Christians are not hardly the only groups of people to behave in this way, but they are the only ones with whom I have had this experience.

I’m grateful for many of the things Christianity has done for our community; others leave me shaking my head. And while I am glad to know that so many of my people find happiness and peace through this religion, I simply wish that other people’s faith had less bearing on my own life and that I wasn’t presumed to be a member of that faith just because a lot of other folks are. Unfortunately, the ‘separation between church and state’ mandate of the Constitution doesn’t get much run in the Black community.

The post Outside The Flock appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

With or without the benefit of a Huxtablean pair of parents to look at as a role model growing up, its wise to spend time observing the loving behaviors of other people, particularly our elders, so that we may learn just what love should look like. You can’t use the divorce of your parents as an excuse to suggest that you have no examples to follow; what about your great-aunt and uncle, the couple on your block that has served as the neighborhood’s surrogate grandparents or even your sister and her husband who’ve been together since middle school.

Even the examples that we’d prefer not to imitate tend to have some bearing on how we operate. It’s silly to suggest that witnessing a nasty breakup or perpetually abusive relationship wouldn’t impact us in some way. As we become adults, we have to do the work ourselves to ensure that we don’t let these negative experiences become the lens through which we views all relationships. We have to understand that people can be their at their best in love and they can be at their worst. And we have to use both sets of examples to help us choose the proper course.

Life can imitate art when it comes to love; fictionalized characters can allow us to examine the sort of things we are looking for, what actions we consider to be reprehensible and the type of scenarios we should try to avoid when it comes to love. So long as you realize that Darius Lovehall was born in someone’s imagination, its okay to recognize that the character represents certain qualities you may want in a man…just don’t be so naive as to believe there’s someone running around here exactly like that.

Women are encouraged to go out and spend time learning just how to be the best partner we can be, whereas men are get a pass for just winging it to the best of their ability and learning from their mistakes. It’s the nature of our society and while you do have plenty of reasons to want to complain about this, you can’t be terribly surprised when you whip out your copy of The Good Black Woman’s Guide to Loving, Honoring and Serving a Good Black Man, only to find that your beau wouldn’t know about the male equivalent to such a book if was published in his kitchen. Speaking of those books, as much as we may poke fun at some of them, there isn’t anything wrong with reading relationship advice from self-anointed gurus and experts; just remember to focus on those who truly respect and admire women without attempting to shame you into changing your everything to have a man.

Ultimately, much of what we learn about loving comes from doing and experiencing it. Feeling neglected by a college love can help you to understand the importance of being an attentive partner in future relationships. Recognizing the positive reception your nurturing ways got from ex-sweeties might help you to develop your romantic modus operandi, as might allowing yourself to be too giving only to have your kindness taken for granted when it was given too freely. It is from dealing with mates that you will learn the most about what you can and cannot tolerate, what you require from someone else and what it is that you have to offer.

Even if someone wrote a manual specifically dedicated to you and your pursuit of ‘happily ever after’, its virtually impossible to travel through life without making some mistakes in the romantic realm. Love is a learning process and as you continue to evolve and grow, your capacity to love and the sort of reciprocity you require in return will continue to evolve and change. You will be both challenged and inspired by the people in your environment and the experiences you have; embrace the fact that you will forever be a student of love and instead of killing yourself to be an expert, you should aspire to be an observant and attentive learner.

Clutchettes and Clutch Gents: looking back at your lives-to-date, where have you learned your most valuable love lessons? Who have been your role models and how have you learned how to love so far?

The post How To Love appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

I’ve known a lot of guys who have praised the ‘cool’ girls in their circles for their relatability, for being down-to-earth and a refreshing alternative to the pretentious, superficial women of the world…only to run out and lavish their romantic attentions on those same villainesses! For shame. And then they come back  around and complain to the down chicks when it all goes awry. A vicious cycle, is it not? But to be entirely fair, this is much like the plight of the “nice” guy who feels that he is put on the platonic pedestal in lieu of the “bad” boy who gets all the lovin’.  Same script, different cast.

My personal bad experience came during the time in which I could talk about Hip-Hop with the same passion and knowledge as the dudes, yet got passed over for the girls who’d much sooner listen to Destiny’s Child than A Tribe Called Quest. Many of these dudes were also very serious about being ‘righteous, Asiatic Black kings,’ but when it came girlfriend choosing time, they had the same Eurocentric influences in their tastes as the other guys–opting for long, straight hair over locs that looked like their own. The chicks they put on a pedestal often represented the values/aesthetics they claimed to oppose.

Why is it that men (and women) so often look past that dope ass friend with whom they have everything in common when it comes time to pick a boo? How can you complain about girls who complain about basketball, yet be willing to knock down a girl who loves sports to get to one of the ones who don’t? Well, to be fair, what we are looking for in a buddy is not always the same as what we are looking for in a partner. And as much as we may adore our opposite sex best friend’s sense of humor and superior wit, that doesn’t always come with a side of physical attraction. Beyond that, life isn’t fair and people just aren’t always great at realizing a great thing, even when it’s right in front of their faces.

So, what does the homegirl do when she’s feeling passed by like a Pharcyde song? If she changes some of her habits/dress to suit what the fellas want (or seem to), then she runs the risk of being inauthentic; but if she keeps doing what she’s been doing, then she may continue to feel neglected. The best answer may often be somewhere in the middle: remain true to your personal steez, without being afraid to switch it up a little bit on occasion, like for special events. But never feel like you have to become something or someone else, because ultimately, it isn’t going to do anyone any favors in the long run.

The woman of one man’s ‘friend zone’ is the ideal candidate for another’s ‘girlfriend lane.’ As frustrating as it may be to see your homeboys wanting to hang with you constantly, yet love all over someone else, you can’t become an entirely different woman in order to garner the affection of others. If anyone will see through this facade, its gonna be the guys who love you like a sister. And regardless of who notices your switch up, who wants to be the chick who changed up who she is just to get a man? Nothing admirable about that. Make the best of your role as a fly on the wall; learn what you can from your close connection with the guys and use that info to your advantage when pursuing relationships with men outside your inner circle. Allow these male friends to serve as your confidants and advisers as you navigate the dating scene and you might find that someone even more compatible sees you as far more than just ‘a friend’.

The post The Plight of the Homegirl appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

Alas, I was the impatient one and cast out my virginity like a pair of rundown shoes the day before homecoming my sophomore year. A college guy (who I later discovered was likely a high school student like myself) enticed me to take three buses and a train to his house during the school day with the promise of my first cunnilingus; somehow, a Jodeci tape (this makes me sound older than I am; reality is, he just didn’t have a CD player for some reason) and the loss of my cherry were involved in this. All I remember was “Huh, the blood thing isn’t a myth” and taking the piece of paper next to his phone that had my phone number written on it, because I didn’t want to talk to him again.

I was largely unaffected by the whole thing. I bought a little bean pie to eat on my long ride back and went to get my hair done for the dance, praying I’d done a good job washing up. I entertained the “I’m a woman now” foolishness for about two seconds, before deciding that I would keep this little experience to myself and would share a more “special” story with my girls. Unfortunately, dude told a friend from my school and one of our boys aired me out on a field trip. Yet and still it was not a big deal to me.

A little later in my Young days, my friends had a convo about what we thought our number of partners would be prior to marriage. With the start date of fifteen in mind and the age of thirty being the end, I threw out “fifty.”Even though I immediately backtracked (math has never been my strong suit), my girls fry me about that until this day. Though i went a bit too far in one direction, they had numbers that were also a bit questionable: three, four, five. Nearly ten years later…we’ll just say everyone’s numbers were off.

Sex has never been a source of agony for me in the way I’ve seen it be for some other women. I either wanted to sleep with someone or I didn’t; in situations of the former, I weighed the pros and cons and made a choice. Did I always make the “best” choice? Probably not, but I haven’t suffered any real consequences or pain as a result of sex, because I always put my safety and happiness first before any man’s ego and before concerns about what people may think.

I think that when some folks hear people talk about women and sexual liberation, they get an image of bra-burning feminists walking around with no panties, ready to hop on any and every available wang out there. That’s silly. The goal is for women to feel comfortable enough with sex to manage their physical affairs as they see fit; the amount of worry some of us have when it comes to “should I or shouldn’t I?” shows us that comfort is quite often a lofty goal.

My attitude about sex hasn’t really changed much over the years. While it would have been nice to lose my virginity in some sort of ‘rose petals and candles on prom night’ fantasy, the emotional detached nature of my first time reflects my overall feelings about getting physical: it can and never will define who I am as a woman. As I approach the point in which I intend to stop adding new notches to the bedpost when I utter the “I’s married nah” that will rock the souls of those who believe that sexual empowerment sentences women to a life of singledom, I’m glad that I never let it take a toll on my self-esteem or self-image. I can only hope that more women can find a space to feel the same way.

The post Sex Don’t Make A Woman appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

The further I get from my own teen days, the harder it is for me to look at the girls still in ‘em. Deep down, there’s a little twinge of jealousy there; while I’d prefer not to ever be as goofy again as I was at 15, I can’t help but miss having EVERYTHING to look forward to. But my biggest challenge when it comes to the baby sisters has less to do with envy than it does fear and concern.

Did adult women see a potentially fast-tailed, hard-headed child when they looked at me as a teen? Seems likely. I wonder if they had the same internal monologue that I have when I Iook upon the Brooklyn baby dolls I see each day: “Why are her pants so tight?”—”Does she have to talk THAT loud?” —”Why teenagers gotta dress like crackheads?”(I’d bet money that I evoked that thought in a few adults) and “PUT THOSE TITTIES AWAY!”

Did those same women freak out when they saw full grown men looking at me? How did they feel when those guys were their own age? Older? Did they take my silence for obliviousness? I never heard anyone offer the, “Sir, she is just a baby!” that I have hurled at a few Robert Kellyian fellas in defense of me, but that doesn’t mean no woman felt angered and/or protective at the site of my harassment. I’d like to think some of them did.

The twenties are an odd place to live. I’m side-eyeing the teen sistren, yet still subject to the occasional reproachful “What are you wearing?” glare from some of the elders (for the record: I like my legs enough to share them with the world. Short skirt, don’t care). I’m grown enough to own my foolishness. Old enough to know better and young enough to get some passes. But each day that goes by, my mothering instincts begin to take up residence where my cool big sister homegirl ones used to reside.

I have a 14 year old mentee with whom I share a mutual adoration, but I have a contentious relationship with a few local, hard-headed, big-legged, under-aged gals. I just want them to be safe. They just want to be left the hell alone, to get their lumps and bumps as I did, and to be the unofficial bosses of their young lives which are still legally policed by their parents. I think when they get a little older and see a new crop of cropped tee-wearing, tongue-popping hot girls, they’ll appreciate my efforts.

The young woman plays an important role in the teen woman-child’s life. We can fit into some of the spaces where Mama cannot. We are removed enough from the book bag days to have earned a voice of authority, yet young enough to have empathy. We know the songs, the styles, the swag that got them going crazy. We can encourage them to be good with that tiny pinch of bad that makes for a delectable teen life while not compromising graduation or safety. So, sisters, find you one of our little ones and love her. Dote on her, help her keep her head, and help her with that difficult dance that is near adulthood. You owe it to your former, tackily dressed self.

The post A New Big Sisterhood appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

I don’t think I’d know as much about how to be a date, a girlfriend or a lover had I not the benefit of spending time with men on a platonic level. It gives me the opportunity to get inside men’s heads and I constantly pick their brains to help me tighten up. Oftentimes, women want to make each other feel better, even if that means telling each other the exact opposite of what we need to hear. “Girl, I think when he told you he didn’t like you or find you attractive, that was his way of saying he was just scared of how special he thinks you are.” Homeboys, even those who are highly sensitive to your feelings, tend to understand those mixed messages a little bit better: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he asked you to stop calling because he doesn’t want you calling.”

Broad, sweeping generalizations aside, it’s not that homegirls can’t give great dating advice or that we’re all incapable of being honest with our friends. And simply being a man with an opinion doesn’t make you a romance expert (paging Steve Harvey and the thousands of souls who have placed their hearts in his hands). But I personally feel the male perspective is a valuable thing to have if you are trying to date men. And even beyond the romantic advice, you can learn a lot about male behavior by being around men. Are brothers a monolith? Of course not. But there are some inherent and common differences between the genders and you shouldn’t only be privy to them with hair pulling and sheet twisting involved.

On the flip, I’ve tried to tell my guy friends the things I feel sisters need them to hear. I encourage them as best as I can to be respectful and honest in their dealings with women, in hopes that the ladies they come across won’t suffer some unnecessary romantic trauma or embarrassment. I have a ‘play brother’ three years my junior and he’s listened to war stories about my homegirls since I was a senior in high school. I always wrap up with “Can you please promise you won’t make anyone feel like this?” Now that we’re older, I look to him for his wise words and perspective as well. There’s never been anything romantic there, and it has nothing to do with age (trust me…I’ve never had a problem with tenderronis!). We just built a beautiful, valuable friendship.

I constantly hear women and men complain that the two genders can’t be friends if there was ever any sexual or romantic tension, or that invariably, one of the two parties is harboring some attraction. I just don’t find that to be true. For starters, I’ve always had male buddies and I’m not hardly a tomboy. I’ve even had great, long-term friendships with men who I once had romantic feelings for or who I may have, umm, you know…gotten to know on a more intimate level. I’d be lying if I said it was never awkward to ask a man I once got down with about how to proceed with the next gentlemen du jour, but it’s certainly not impossible. And sometimes, you connect with people for reasons that aren’t the ones you originally peeped. Love might not have been there romantically, but it might be a beautiful, wonderful thing platonically.

Not only are men friends great resources when you need some help with your romantic quandaries (or with lifting heavy boxes), they are pretty darn fun to have around. They are, well, people. They drink, eat, party, pray and do all the stuff we do. If you surround yourself only with sisterfriends and lovers, you are doing yourself a great disservice. Let the men in and find a different sort of love that’s no less important than the kind that comes with romance attached!

The post A Case for the Homeboy appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

But I can’t lie: it’s some days where I just feel like I’m not enough.

There’s a lot of honeydips in Gotham, y’all. And they’re brilliant and talented and alla that stuff. I’m confident about my looks and my smarts (most days; we all fall short of the glory sometimes). I got a nice lil’ package going for me. But in Black Girl Land . . . that makes me average.

I go to Ft. Greene for a shindig and most of the women there look just like me (that’s another issue for another day). My posse is bold and bad and making all types of moves. And it isn’t at all that I need to be surrounded by marginal women to shine (or that I would want to do such a thing). But I do have vulnerable moments of simply not feeling beautiful, fly, smart enough. Feeling like I’m just one of many.

The rampant dopeness has complicated my love life a bit. There’s a touch of competitiveness that I have with other women that I resent oh so much. Social Darwinism. Race to cuddle time. Sometimes, I feel like I’m making an elevator pitch with a brother; if I don’t reveal all my awesome right away, some other clever and beautiful woman will beat me to the punch. I think I’m an all-the-way awesome lover/partner, but surely some of these other women can claim the same.

So while I appreciate being born on to a winning team, I just can’t help but to feel like I gotta work real hard to have a starting position. Sisters set the bar real high. I’m willing to climb . . . it’s just hard sometimes.

The post Special Enough appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

Williams is also collaborating on a line of shoes with designer Mark McNairy, which will be available next February. He’s also working on a coffee table book with Ambra Medda of Design Miami. “Places & Spaces I’ve Been” does not yet have a release date. Go Pharrell, go!

Source

The post Pharrell Announces ‘Billionaire Girls Club’ Clothing Line appeared first on Clutch Magazine.

This sh!t is crazy, fam. He has an actor talking about how a “community organizer” can’t claim to have done the “real” things that a man like Herman Cain has… despite the fact that Cain HAS NEVER HELD POLITICAL OFFICE. And are we really doing the “community organizer” bit when, like it or lump it, Barack Obama has been President of the United States for over two years? And the line about liberals being the ones keeping the race issue alive is just amazing. It reminded me of Lawrence O’Donnell’s remarks about the Republican Party effectively convincing people that those who speak out about racial issues are the “real” racists, while those responsible for maintaining the racist status quo somehow avoid criticism.

If Herman Cain becomes the next POTUS, I’ll be out of here on the next thing smoking. Actually, I’ll smoke some crack. I can say this with confidence, because I am pretty sure that I’m just as likely to become the next President as this clown. But cheers to him for keeping it entertaining all the way.

The post Another Bizarre Campaign Ad For Herman Cain appeared first on Clutch Magazine.