FiyaStarter.com - Serena's E-mail

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“I was gonna drive around
the corner and get a blow job.”
-Charles Barkley
Drunk ass political hopeful.

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Que? Serena-Serena, Whatever Will Be, Will Be?
by: Arson Palmer for Social/General

By now we’ve all been forwarded the bogus interview from the fictional Serena Williams, chronicling then addressing the worth nothing at all African American male species. As far as I know, everyone who got the infamous cat suit picts got this as well, so the Western Hemisphere should be covered. But, if by chance you’ve been away on another planet or you’re still recounting ballots in a swing state, I’ll give you a quick recap. Better yet, if you’ve seen the movie Baby Boy, ring up the scene where Yvette (one of the most authentic chicken-heads of all-time) calls and curses out Jody for any and everything a young black man can possibly have wrong with him. Got it? Good, now that everyone is up to speed we may proceed.

I actually saw this email right before I stepped out of the door for work. The title alone made me download it to my pocket pc for some good train ride entertainment; “FW: Interview with Serena Williams (please read).” Not the “please read,” though. That wasn’t even necessary. We (black men) have been dying to hear what our blond micro-braided queen has had to say about her… you know – latest relationship, for quite some time now. Oh, come on, we’ve all been thinking about it, since we saw the first public photo of her and the white-director, white-short, white-pudgy, white—guy. Must I be the first to say it without (much) apprehension? So be it. Look, I’m not judging, but I’d be lying through my fingers if I said that it wasn’t the first thing I wanted to know, here.

So, I’m reading this on the train and I guess after the third or fourth time I buck my eyes or suck my teeth I notice a couple people looking at me like I’m the projects’ resident crazy lady. I’m not much concerned with them though, because this has got my blood boiling. I’m totally focused on the blatant attacks Fictional Serena is making. How dare her. Only “two choices” for a successful black woman? Dating outside your race or another successful black female? That had me heated. The poor homeless dog jab almost hurt. I was totally buying this. It’s only after the author made the cardinal blunder in the fabled story did I relax against the train door and let out a giggle, realizing I had been had, briefly. “I unlike Oprah, am not forced to stay within those boundaries.” Over on the left coast they call this “Putting too much on it,” Waaaaaaay too much, in this case. I don’t profess to know everything about black women, but I do know you don’t directly/indirectly talk dirty about Oprah, Jill Scott and Rosa Parks in that order. They’re like the holy trinity of the black woman masonry. The committed double fault was actually Serena-like, just not in the right way. Now critical readers like me have to go in and let the air out of this story and cut the life expectancy of this match by a couple sets.

But wait, being curious ‘ole me, I wanted to know how people really felt about these accusations that have been floating around the psyche of black men and women for quite some time now. I first noticed them when Waiting to Exhale hit theaters and the very teenage girls who are now professional women began reading the influx of black relationship novels by the Toni, um, Dickeyson… yeah, them.

My formal response to Fictional Serena’s proclamation was, “Sorry, I usually don’t hit the "reply all" on these emails, but if I’m not mistaken T.I. released ‘Urban Legend’ last week. I can't imagine this interview being real. Can someone provide a link or something before I take this serious and pick it apart? Thanks.” That seemed to open the floodgates up for people to chime in with their thoughts. I knew it wouldn’t take much. Just a hint of snootiness and a dash of bitters was more than enough. Damn near everyone had something to say about the subject more so than the soap opera character that inspired it. That’s good. Whatever racist drummed this up probably did more good than evil opening a dialogue for people, and, for that, I thank him. I don’t have enough keystrokes in me to type out everyone’s view on successful black women and what a black man must be to equal happiness in their eyes, nor do I wish to. I will say this, though… People are stupid.

You like who you like. Why is that so hard to admit? What the hell is all this hypothetical flimflam? If you’re a black woman and you want to be with a white man, or vice versa just do it (no pun intended, Serena… Tiger). You know when you go out to the mall you’re going to get some stares and comments. Deal. Or better yet, address those people directly. But don’t drag black men as a whole into it. We have enough dealing with stares, comments, fingerprint checks at those same malls and a whole plethora of other things without playing Lee Majors for the inhibitions of insecure women to go along with it. If you have enough admiration or love for a person to be with them, don’t say you’ve done so because you’ve exhausted all resources on the other side (even if true, have some consideration. Stroke an ego for God’s sake). That’s an illegal forehand smash in the face from the line I’m judging. I won’t even go into the other side of the equation where some black women share the equally ignorant stance as certain black men about a white spouse and how it relates to “social status.” I just find it pure cowardice that someone would risk sacrificing the sanctity of their relationship with their significant other to save face or keep it real with their “people.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” –Combustible Huxtable