Dose Of Chevvi

Tag: black schema

  • 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 Woman Behind the Strength

    Yesterday, I learned about the idea of intergenerational trauma and the ways the “Strong Black Woman” schema can shape how Black women learn to survive.

    And something about it really stayed with me.

    Because sometimes I wonder: How much of what I call strength is actually survival that I learned to normalize?

    The ability to keep going.

    The ability to figure everything out yourself.

    The ability to work through exhaustion.

    The discomfort with asking for help.

    The feeling that resting means you are falling behind.

    The belief that if you don’t take care of everything, nobody will.

    The instinct to make everything look okay, even when you’re quietly falling apart.

    Maybe some of that isn’t simply personality.

    Maybe some of it is what happens when survival becomes so familiar that you start mistaking it for who you are.

    And I think that is what makes the idea of intergenerational trauma so powerful to me. Sometimes what gets passed down isn’t a specific story that someone sits you down and tells you. Sometimes it is a way of responding to the world.

    You learn to be prepared.

    You learn not to depend too heavily on anyone.

    You learn to make something out of nothing.

    You learn that being vulnerable can be dangerous.

    You learn to carry things quietly.

    And then one day you realize that you are exhausted from carrying things you were never meant to carry alone.

    I don’t want to reject my strength. My strength has gotten me here.

    But I also don’t want survival mode to be the only way I know how to live.

    I want to learn the difference between being strong and having to be strong.

    I want to learn that receiving support does not make me weak.

    That rest is not laziness.

    That softness is not irresponsibility.

    That asking for help does not mean I have failed.

    And that I can build financial security without living my entire life in fear of losing it.

    Maybe healing, for me, isn’t becoming a completely different woman.

    Maybe it is becoming a woman who finally understands that she doesn’t have to earn safety by suffering for it.

    P.s.

    Just a girl navigating her 20’s