I have been on a binge/ used my classes as an excuse within the past couple days to delve deep into understanding the institutions tropes etc. That make the men I love the way they are...difficult to love often. I jokingly say it is me "getting to know the enemy," the fact is I am almost half serious. That half of the ankh for me and many black women my age has indeed been a source of a lot of anguish, pain, growth, torture, surprise, hope, disappointment. Our fathers, brothers (bloodline and otherwise), and the men we take as companion often bring back around the notion that the ankh is still in desperate need of healing.
Here is a movie I am watching (supposedly) for a paper I am writing:
I am A Man: Black Masculinity in America
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