Dose Of Chevvi

Tag: identity

  • 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.

  • 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

  • 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.

  • In the shadows

    In the void of my mind, you linger, you stay
    A haunting presence that won't go away
    Absent in flesh, but present in spirit
    A constant reminder of all that I fear

    Your whispers, like knives, cut deep in my soul
    Aching, throbbing, taking its toll
    You're a shadow, a specter, a weight on my chest
    A never-ending torment that won't let me rest

    You cloud my thoughts, distort my perception
    Leaving me drowning in a sea of deception
    Your absence suffocates, a crushing despair
    Leaving me gasping for a breath of fresh air

    I try to break free, to escape from your grasp
    But you're a relentless foe, a never-ending rasp
    You're the one who is absent, yet always near
    A constant reminder of my pain and my fear

    But I'll keep fighting, even when it's hard
    I'll find a way to mend my broken heart
    For though you may linger, torment my mind
    I'll rise above the pain, leaving you behind.
    This poem reflects the struggles of battling with the persistent presence of negative thoughts and emotions. I try to describe feeling haunted by a ghostly presence that lingers in my  mind to reflect pain, despair, and a sense of suffocation. Despite the overwhelming weight of these feelings, I express at the end determination to push through the darkness and find a way to rise above the torment. The title "In the Shadows of Sorrow" encapsulates the theme of grappling with inner turmoil and seeking to overcome it as life can weigh us down sometimes it it’s important to know our shadows can be our strengths too

  • Shadow side

    Beneath the confident facade that I show the world,
    there's a quieter side not everyone sees unfold.
    Though I may appear strong and outgoing in light,
    I truly cherish moments of peace in my own quiet night.

    I find solace in simple joys like lazy Mondays in bed,
    though speaking to crowds fills me with dread.
    My passion lies in making a positive change,
    and exploring new hobbies keeps my life rearranged.

    Photography, rollerskating, or learning a new craft,
    bring me fulfillment and memories of my grandmother's past.
    Though others' opinions may weigh on my mind,
    traveling and meeting new faces help me unwind.

    I have a quirky sense of humor, hidden behind sarcasm's veil,
    and accents for fun, like my British one, never fail.
    Through displacement and vulnerability, I've learned to embrace,
    life's challenges with humility and grace.

    There's a side of me that craves attention and control,
    a shadow side hidden from the world's patrol.
    It's all me, flaws and all, that I'm learning to embrace,
    finding solace in my room, without the need to chase.

  • Embracing Change

    I told myself two years ago
    Don't be afraid of change
    Embrace it, welcome it
    Don't let it feel so strange

    But now I find myself
    In a constant state of fight
    Every drastic change I face
    Fills me with such fright

    I thought I was prepared
    For whatever life may bring
    But when it comes down to it
    I struggle with everything

    I try to push through
    To embrace the unknown
    But the fear inside me
    Has only grown and grown

    I know I need to change
    To grow and to evolve
    But the battle within me
    Is hard to resolve

    So I'll keep fighting on
    Despite the fear I feel
    Hoping that one day
    I'll find a sense of zeal

    For change is inevitable
    And I must learn to adapt
    To let go of my fears
    And leave behind the trap

    I told myself two years ago
    Don't be afraid of change
    I'll keep reminding myself
    Until my mindset rearrange.

    This poem delves into my internal struggle and fear that often accompany significant changes in life. I initially motivated myself to embrace change, but as I navigate through it, I find myself resisting, feeling overwhelmed and fearful. The poem delves into the difficulty of releasing fear and my journey of adapting and growing through change.

  • Unveiling Strength: Black Women’s Resilience

    In the shadows of society, we stand,
    Black, marginalized, with dreams unplanned.
    Our voices muted, our struggles unseen,
    Yet still, we’re objectified, as if we’re not even human beings.

    We’re strong, we’re resilient, we rise above,
    But society sees us through a lens devoid of love.
    Our bodies judged, our worth defined,
    By the male gaze, our value confined.

    But we are more than just objects of desire,
    We are fierce, we are powerful, our souls on fire.
    We stand tall, we break free from the chains,
    Embracing our beauty, our strength that remains.

    let us reclaim our power,
    Let us stand together, in unity, every hour.
    We are black, we are marginalized, but we are not defined,
    By the oppressive standards that seek to confine.

    We are queens, we are warriors, we are magic untold,
    Our stories, our voices, forever bold.
    So let us rise, let us shine, let us be seen,
    As the strong, resilient women, breaking barriers, breaking free.

    #International women’s day

  • Bodies

    My body, your body, her body
    We are somebody, skin and bone
    Breathing, moving, feeling deeply
    In this world of flesh and tone

    My body is a vessel
    A home for my spirit to roam
    Scarred and imperfect
    But uniquely my own

    Your body is a story
    A dance of curves and lines
    A map of experiences
    Etched in every sign

    Her body is a mystery
    A universe to explore
    A symphony of emotions
    Each note, a silent roar

    I am somebody
    More than just this skin
    A soul on a journey
    Finding strength within

    My body, your body, her body
    We are all somebody, raw and true
    Embracing our imperfections
    In a world that's always new.

  • Soulful Understanding

    Some of us are just pure souls, shining bright
    In a world so complex, trying to make things right
    Through the chaos and confusion, we strive
    To find peace and understanding, keep our spirits alive

    We ask questions, seek answers, try to comprehend
    The intricacies of life, its twists and bends
    With open hearts and minds, we explore
    The depths of our existence, what we're here for

    We may not have all the answers, but we'll keep on trying
    To make sense of this world, keep our souls flying
    Together we'll navigate the complexities we face
    And find beauty and meaning in this wondrous place

    So let's embrace our pure souls, and never lose sight
    Of the magic and wonder that surrounds us, day and night
    In unity and love, we'll find our way
    And make sense of this complex world, come what may.