Dose Of Chevvi

Category: Reflective piece

  • Dear Black Men, Where Is the Affection?

    Dear Black Men, Where Is the Affection?

    Can we talk about Black men and relationships for a second?

    Because I genuinely think there should be a study on this.

    And before somebody says, “There already is research on this!” — maybe there is. I haven’t done enough research yet, which is actually why I’m asking the question.

    But based on my own experiences, I’ve noticed something that has made me curious:

    Why has my experience with Black men showing affection, expressing emotions, communicating openly, and building genuinely healthy relationships been so limited?

    And I’m not talking about whether a man can like you.

    I mean real emotional intimacy.

    Being vulnerable.
    Communicating when something is wrong.
    Showing affection without acting uncomfortable about it.
    Being intentional.
    Having difficult conversations.
    Taking accountability.
    Making you feel emotionally safe.

    Even something as simple as telling someone, “I’m not feeling well,” and getting back an “Oh, sorry” can sometimes leave me thinking, is that it?

    Maybe this is just me, but sometimes I don’t want a solution. I want care.

    I want someone to ask, “Are you okay?” or “What can I do?” or even just check in on me later.

    Because I think about things like pregnancy and childbirth. If I were carrying your child and experiencing contractions, would “Oh, sorry” really be the response?

    That might sound dramatic to some people, and that’s okay. 😂 But personally, I know that would upset me.

    And I think that’s where the conversation about emotional intimacy gets interesting.

    Because I’m not necessarily asking someone to magically make the pain disappear. I want to feel like my pain matters to you.

    And this is where my Sociology brain kicks in. 😂

    Is this simply my personal experience, or is there something bigger worth examining?

    I would genuinely love to see the statistics.

    How do Black men compare with men from other racial and ethnic groups when it comes to emotional availability, vulnerability, affection, communication, commitment, relationship satisfaction, and marriage?

    And if there are differences…

    Why?

    Is it the way Black boys are socialized?

    Traditional ideas about masculinity?

    The expectation that men have to be strong, providers, and protectors?

    Family and childhood experiences?

    Socioeconomic stress?

    Racial discrimination and the pressures that can come with navigating the world as a Black man?

    Or are some of the things we say about Black men simply stereotypes that don’t hold up when we actually look at the evidence?

    Because I don’t want to make a sweeping statement about Black men based solely on my dating experiences.

    That wouldn’t be fair — and honestly, that’s not even the interesting question.

    The interesting question is why people experience love, intimacy, and relationships the way they do.

    Maybe I’ll do the research and discover that some of my assumptions are completely wrong.

    Maybe I’ll discover there are patterns worth talking about.

    Either way, I want the evidence.

    So I’m putting the question out there:

    Black men and relationships — what does the research actually say?

    Because I have questions.

  • The Sociological Lens Of Access

    I love talking to certain people because they understand that activities and interests are not inherently “coloured.” So much of what we associate with race actually comes down to access—and who historically had access to participate.

    Take skating, for example. People may call it a “white activity,” but is skating actually white? Or did certain communities simply have greater access to skating rinks, equipment, lessons, transportation, disposable income, and spaces where they felt welcomed?

    If Black people had historically been given the same access and opportunities to participate, would skating still be considered a “white activity”? Or would we simply see it for what it is: an activity that people enjoy?

    Sometimes what we racialize as an interest is actually the result of generations of unequal access, exclusion, representation, and opportunity. The activity itself was never white. Access was.

  • Becoming Her Meant Learning This First

    Becoming Her Meant Learning This First

    There are some apologies you don’t always get to say out loud.

    Sometimes, growth sounds like “I’m sorry”—even if the person never hears it.

    Looking back, I can admit that I didn’t always recognize what I had when I had it. I didn’t fully understand what a healthy kind of love looked like, and in many ways, I ended up self-sabotaging something that was actually good for me.

    It took distance, time, and reflection for me to see things clearly. To understand the difference between attention and intention. Between comfort and real care.

    And with that clarity came accountability.

    Not the kind that tears you down—but the kind that forces you to grow. The kind that makes you pause and say, “I could have done better. I should have known better.”

    But the truth is, sometimes you don’t know better until life teaches you.

    I’ve learned that growth doesn’t erase the past—it just changes how you carry it.

    And instead of seeing certain experiences as punishment, I’ve started to see them as lessons. Lessons that shape you into someone more self-aware, more intentional, and more capable of giving and receiving the kind of love you once misunderstood.

    Some people come into your life to stay. Others come to teach you something you’ll carry forever.

    And even if you don’t get closure, even if you don’t get to say everything you wish you could…

    Growth still happens.

    And sometimes, that’s enough.

    P.s. Just a girl Navigating her 20’s

  • The Power of Strong Women in Family Structures

    From a sociological perspective, I think matrifocal families can be more dynamic and effective at strengthening family bonds than traditional patriarchal families. I know this might be an unpopular opinion, but I believe that having strong women and supportive men plays a key role in creating a healthy and balanced family structure.

    With curiosity—Shavesha Steele

  • Whose Life Are You Living?

    I’ve learned that trying to become the person your parents hope for can be honorable—but only if it doesn’t cost you yourself. When a life is lived primarily to meet someone else’s expectations, it can slowly fill with regret. Not loud regret, but the kind that settles in quietly and shapes how you show up in love, in connection, and in honesty.

    Love becomes confusing when you’re unsure whose life you’re living. It’s hard to give yourself fully to another person when you haven’t given yourself permission to be fully you.

    I hope people remember that respect for parents doesn’t require self-abandonment. You can honor where you come from without losing sight of where you’re going. And sometimes, learning what love is starts with choosing authenticity over obligation.