BLACK WOMENZ

BIYATCHEZ & HOEZ

written by: THE KINGPIN THORNE PETERS

www.ThornePeters.com

“Women are like elephants . . . everyone likes to look at them, but no one likes to have to keep one around.” —W.C. Fields

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In order to make an epic point, I will often ask Black guys: “Is yo' mama a biyatch or a ho'?” What's interesting is that they will take a moment to think about it and some will answer. What else could you call a woman that refers to her vagina as her shit. I mean think of that imagery . . . she's equating her semi-precious genitalia to a steaming blob of stinking feces. Even if it's true, don't brag about it—Clean it up!
When searching for the root cause of why Negroes are filled with such negativity that even their positive adjectives are: “bad” and “shit”, and people they like are “fools” and “dogs” and “motherfuckers” and even “Niggers”, I was led by the evidence to their one most recurring connection . . . their momses.
As we know in Black culture the man is usually absent or has disappeared or is a constant bad example of their race and gender. So it is the mom who is the predominant parent in Black society . . . along with the grandma. The responsibility of raising the childrens falls onto the Negresses who become bitter to have to shoulder the burden alone. Therefore, they often treat their child like an unwanted guest in their lives.
My single mom copped an attitude toward me as if I had wronged her. I can remember at three and four years old wondering just what the hell I did to her to make her so cold hearted toward me . . . other than being born. When I was seven, she began giving me rage beatings out of her own frustration; she would cuss me and curse me with street profanity, like “motherfucker” and “fucking bastard” . . . I was neither by the way. When I was eight years old, Roe vs. Wade was passed to legalize abortion and she went on about how she wished the law had changed sooner so that an abortion was available to her in 1962. Back then it was too dangerous and too expensive for her to get one so she was forced to give birth to me against her will . . . and she wanted me to feel bad for her.
She justified her treatment by telling me she needed to make me tough because I was a boy. But what she did was make me a boy who grew up dealing with women as objects to dominate and entities to distrust. I couldn't trust my mother to be consistent with her emotions toward me, so I stopped seeking love from her, even though it broke my widdle heart. I wanted to make women love me so I could spurn their love as had been done to me to even the score of a game they were not involved with other than to be innocent proxies caught in the misdirected crossfire. I would maniacally hate-fuck them to display my power, and the more they loved me for the ribald delight they received the more I would look for ways to use their sexuality against them, so I could rule them. I had to protect my loving heart and poetic soul from these she-beasts at all costs, even if it meant being heartless with intent. When they told me that they loved me and cried for me to take their love, even if I couldn't share mine, it was the fuel I needed to distance myself from the pitiful little boy bringing mommy flowers, which she crushed and tossed.
Too damn many Black mothers treat their child like an object of their emotions rather than the subject of their emotions. One minute they're hugging and kissing on their kid, talking about “I lub you, babay” and the next they're cussing them out and wailing on them because they're having a bad day or they're sick of being twenty-four-seven/three-sixty-five times eighteen parents. A child in this kind of sick relationship will emotionally withdraw from the parent for protection and will reemerge in the world as an angry person who wants others to feel as bad as they do. I couldn't give my mother the ass kicking she had coming, but the first person that rubbed me wrong was going to suffer the full extent of my fury. Children like this are incapable of feeling good for the success of others and will ruin it for everyone, because they believe themselves unworthy of being successful or well adjusted, and will ultimately become incapable of reaching out to embrace humanity unless they find the courage to consider the feelings of others.
These brushed off children will pride themselves on being unloving and view it as strong, because it keeps them from being hurt by a woman. If they are in a possessive relationship that goes bad, rather than offering kindness and tenderness and consideration, which they regard as weakness, they start hollering and swinging on their mate, to show their strength.
Black men take great pride in their mistreatment of women; they receive respect for being dawgs to their biyatches and hoez as they so chivalrously refer to the female population. They sing and dance to tunes about beating down and pimping out their women like it was an achievement rather than a disgrace to the human race. The reason their misogynistic attitude is so glorified, is that they believe their women have betrayed them by so publicly denouncing them as lazy, violent, irresponsible and feculent . . . like it was some big secret that they let the White man in on; I mean who knew Black guys were like that until Black women verified it? C'mon, people . . . get real.
When Black children grow up hearing baby-mamas put down these no good broke ass two bit baby-daddies, the chance of ever respecting Black men is hopeless. They have to be loyal to mama by not taking their daddy's side . . . if they even know who he is or where he is. Mama got the food, so mama gets the loyalty . . . but it's oppressive. All the Black boy hears from the White world and his own mama is that he's going to grow up to be a lowlife . . . and that means the daughter will grow up believing that one day she'll end up with some baby-daddy Black man that's a lowlife and have some lowlife kids.
These baby-mamas are usually young and they want to have a social life and they can't afford babysitters, so they leave the four year old in charge of the two year old and the baby, and disasters happen. This is also a form of betrayal to the child who feels abandoned as minutes tick by like hours and the resentment grows while moms is out having herself a rump-bumping good time at the club, working on baby-daddy number three.
When these women bring their social life home, they end up being abused in front of their kids, or their kids are physically and sexually abused in the home; they see a Black man laying up on their mom, not working or being a thug or pimping her out and calling her out of name and this becomes normal to them so they continue and accept the trend as adults.
When I was a mere seven years old, my mother got into it with James Brand, then of WMEX Radio in Boston, right in our living room. He and my mother started yelling and when she went to push him out the door he grabbed her and shoved her against the wall. My mother started flailing at him—the way she used to do to me—and he whacked her back. I took a knife from the drawer, came up alongside him and stabbed him in his leg . . . the only reason I stabbed him in the leg is because he evidently dressed to the left. There was a moment of sullen levity afterward when we found his toupee in the hall, but it was nothing to laugh at; it was disgraceful to witness; it made me feel like trash, because she looked like shit.
Another time we were hiding in the house for hours with the married man my mother was dating, named David Agler, while his wife hollered and pounded on the door, calling my mother every name in the book . . . she wasn't up for a “Number 1 Mom” statuette from me.
When there's no male provider in the nuclear family, the boy has to become the man of the house at an all too early age and the single mother involves him in conversation and situations meant for an adult male. All he hears from his mama is that she ain't got nothing and so the boy starts doing what he can to get things for his mama, even if he has to commit crimes. Sadly the child is rewarded and given love and warmth for providing for mama, thus robbing him of his childhood . . . and his adulthood. These mothers set their children up for a lifetime of failure and anger because of their lazy, selfish slovenly ways . . . and I've got the crime statistics to prove it.
The mother is the physical embodiment of home and community and love and family . . . all the elements of humanity Black men so violently devalue. It is their disillusion with the mother figure that leads them to deface their neighborhoods with graffiti and garbage and reject their children while in the womb of the mother; they replace love with hatred.
The male drive to succeed is bolstered by the females in his life, beginning with the mother and channeling through the females he's interested in and onto the spouse. Female approval is a huge part of the male psyche, yet Black men do little to make their mothers or wives proud of them . . . they've made bitch-slapping an art form. Black men habitually shun the tasks associated with the male role in society . . . going to work, raising and supporting their children, taking out the garbage, mowing the lawn is all left undone. It's like Black men are on strike against Black women . . . if they don't get a kind mom and a decent woman to marry, they're not going to cross the picket line to build their culture. We talk about Black men abandoning their children, but at the core they're actually abandoning Black women and the babies get caught up in the switches.
When my mother would abuse me, as a small child, I would throw her things out the window; when she would disappear for days on end, I would piss in her closet; I would even stab the tires of her car so she couldn't split on me. She did not provide a home life with regular meals and activities; our homes were just warehouses for her clothes and junk; I was just a chore she was trying to get out of all the time.
We children of Nigger moms are left feeling envious, neglected, unwanted and disrespected, and since all these emotions are too many to manage, we just boil them all down to one . . . . anger. And since we can only get so angry at our mom, we take it out in every other aspect of our lives. If we are not treated with respect, we won't have any for ourselves and others; if we are not shown family pride, we'll have none; if we are not taught to be responsible citizens, we won't be. The reason Negroes dwell in slums is directly attributable to Black men; the reason the slums are squalid and crime ridden, is a tribute to the negative influence of the Black mother. Maybe this is why Negroes have made mother a four letter word.
The Black female has carved out more of an identity for herself and has lived truer to the African-American dream than the male of the species. They have no desire to find status in the White world or live with White neighbors and they rarely interracially mate, no matter how many bad experiences they have had with Black men. Since they have been advanced at a greater pace through the corporate world, they have learned how to use their bad attitudes as a strength rather than have it defeat them as a weakness. The generations of baby-mamas left behind at street level have gained strength without a male to support them; while dainty White wives played housekeeper for their bread winning husbands, Black women were hard at work to support their kids and often the man of their house. They worked their way into the mainstream by performing the thankless jobs and gained a measure of respect for doing what they had to do to get the bills paid. Because of this, they received pitiable understanding for becoming prostitutes to make their ends meet.
But none of this has led Black women to find self esteem. They are shunned by White men, unless they're in an alley after midnight; more insulting, is the way men from their own culture abandon them for any piece of shit White woman that will have them, just to feel like they've advanced themselves socially and culturally . . . you don't hear Black women called: “Trophy Wives”. Black women are the most negatively portrayed people in the media and in society; they represent the ugliest race of women and the crudest race of women and the bitchiest race of women on Earth, far and away . . . in this generation, they have embraced this characterization of themselves and enhanced it.
The sexuality of White women has been presented in men's magazines with airbrushed allure by sultry vixens in silken garb erotically disrobing in swanky boudoirs and exotic locales, while Negro women have been laid bare in the pages of National Geographic, in their filthy natural habitat, huddled around a watering hole with animals as flies surround their genitalia. It is a horrible imagery that imprints itself indelibly on the brain to categorize Black women as subhuman . . . seeing them in their Urban setting is actually even more of a turn off.
Young Black girls are taught and shown dozens of times a day that they're universally ugly and must assimilate their look to please everyone—they need to straighten their hair, slim down their ass, get their nose streamlined . . . but what can they do with their low forehead and sunken eyes and lips made for plates? Then she opens her mouth to speak and the world cringes at her loud-talking vulgar representation of herself, her culture and her gender.
None of these outside perceptions would be the final definition of their population if they had support in the home and acceptance from their own culture, but once again they're on their own to deal with feelings of humiliation and that leads them to become filled with self loathing which they pass along to their children.
I saw this Directv commercial with the upgraded Beyonce Knowles; she was all glammed up, in a sexy sequin shorty dress, her dyed blond, straightened hair flowing in the studio wind . . . her face was radiant, glowing in fact, with a luminescent high tone aura. Then the camera panned down on her dark chocolate thunder thighs and the contrast was startling. When the gilded Negresses affect this unnatural look, they illustrate that black is not beautiful even to other Black people; it teaches little Black girls that their hair and features and skin is unattractive to their own people, so it must be processed with Caucasian influences to soften the blow. Black women are forced to try and pass no matter how Black they are; the less like a Black woman they are the more attractive they will be in the eyes of Black men . . . and in their own eyes.
The one positive example my mother provided for me was her feminine presentation. She was clean and well dressed; she had creams and powders and all the female doodads that accentuate the lovely qualities of a woman; her colognes were intoxicating and her womanly ways made classy ladies extremely attractive to me to the point that I will go without if I can't be with a fine woman . . . her stature set a standard in my eyes.
A boy will not grow to be a man who appreciates elegant ladies if his mama goes around with a stanky ass, funky breath, armpit stench, and crotch rot, wearing clothes that are dirty and sprayed with some cheap fruity cologne that makes them smell worse; her unwashed body covered in lotion; her unclean hair gunked up with some grease . . . some of these Black women are growing mustaches and goatees, setting a new record for ugly women!
These are traits that make these mothers gross to their children and they will therefore be repulsed by the touch and smell of her. If you're a female of this low ilk, no doubt the other females in your life will be of this same poor quality, so the young Black male grows up in a world of nasty ass Black women and thinks of them all this way, making him guilty of the same stereotyping mentality that he will face from Caucasians.
By far, the worst trait of the female Negro is her ignorant mouth. There is nothing ladylike at all about their behavior or discourse. The greatest toll integration has wrought, is the destruction of the White female who now prides herself on walking and talking and throwing down like a Black female. When I see some Wigger bitch spewing out motherfucker and shit every other word, or arguing with their hand waving over their head and doing the chicken neck thing, it makes me hate on Black women everywhere—though it is not at all their fault that White women abandon their nature and identity in order to be the person they think will be the most accepted and get the most attention in a given moment; they will resort to any antic and stoop to any level to be one of the cool kids . . . and I have the pictures to prove it.

I used to believe that my righteous prejudice toward Black women is what made them so unattractive to me and I would never consider being with one sexually . . . I would've felt like some loser if I had to resort to doing a Black woman. I've seen some way mixeded ones that came close to doing it for me and I've probably been with some Hispanic chicks that may have had a bit of sista in them, but I had never been with a woman who could check the N-Box.
Then I met the lovely lady sharing the kiss with me in the photo—Sarah from New Zealand. She was visiting the European hostel above the hotel suite where I lived in the Hollywood hills. She was dark and lovely with more of a natural afro than the Black ladies wear in this country; she was dynamic and classy and spoke with a smashing British accent that I found scintillating . . . we had an attraction to each other at first sight, which stunned me.
After her first trip downtown, she came back so disgusted with Black men that she was a riot without trying to be. She was talking about being approached by one Black man after another with their hands in their pants trying to talk her up and hit on her by profanely detailing their prowess and dick size, then cussing her out for blowing them off. She declared: “No wonder you hate these Niggers so bad in this country . . . they're bloody animals.”
I was so taken with her that I was possessed to make love to her—my first and only Black chick. She was marvelous and we were simpatico. In bed, I did not feel the chasm of a racial divide nor did I feel ashamed for doing some Black girl like many White men do who keep it on the down low . . . and pay for it. She was no dark dirty secret and I had no physical or mental hurdle to get over. She was clean and demure and it was my pleasure to partake of her completely from head to toe.
In that moment, I learned that it was the attitude and/or carriage and/or speech and/or hygiene of Black women overall that I find offensive—not their skin color . . . her soft natural was much more appealing to the touch than the horsetail feel of processed hair; her polite manner and refined speech was arousing. Never once, as we made passionate love, did she exclaim anything like:“Oh baby my shit be moiwst as a motherfucker . . . you fixin' to make me com like a motherfucker! My shit be ready to nut, baby!” Her delicate approach to love making was quite demure and extremely intense . . . even her passionate wails were dignified.
While interracial breeding is a sticky wicket worldwide, in countries less advanced than ours they have no problem with interracial coupling, because the people involved do not represent negative stereotypes, so there is no disgrace in being with them. It wasn't just sex; I had an epiphany.
But when the lights came on, of course, I could not entertain any idea of beginning a relationship with her or having babies with her, because of my prejudice . . . but at least I knew that I was not a racist. I did not do her because I was horny; I desired her, because I was attracted to her charm and beauty. And here's the point. She was a great person filled with laughter; she was well educated and had an adventurous spirit, as well as a zest for love making, which are all qualities I admire and crave in a woman . . . she didn't even have a tattoo. So my prejudice may have in fact cost me a soul mate and today we would be basking in a dozen years of love and passion. Well then let that be on me. I want Black women to fix themselves up so fine and make themselves so appealing and become such sensitive, nurturing women that I'll be begging for one someday . . . and when y'all tell me you're not interested in my advances, it will be my great loss not yours.
More importantly, Black women need to bring Black men back to the fold by presenting an attractive feminine package and the way for them to do that is to start cultivating a better image of a woman to their children. It's getting so that Black women aren't even the lovely parting gift for the Black guys that didn't win the big deal White girl . . . they're becoming the booby prize that goes to losers who got no game. It used to be Black men took heat from Black men about getting with White women . . . now bruthaz is running dozens on bruthaz that can only get with sistaz.
For a decade I have lived in Memphis and have gone to places where congregations of Black women convene and the sight and sound and smell of them is depressing. When I stand in line behind them at Piggly Wiggly, or walk in the park behind them, or sit next to them at the D.M.V., breathing through my mouth because of the smell, trying not to look at them in their soiled clothing, doing what I can to ignore them as they talk all loud or cuss out their kids, I feel violated by their presence. Just think if one of those women were my mom what my opinion of women would be . . . particularly of Black women.
In my decades as a deejay in the L.A. strip clubs, I had to send a girl home for being funky two times . . . one White girl and one Black girl . . . a few other times I had to have a talk with them. In Memphis, every night I had to talk to Black ladies about their body odor and hip them to the fact that spraying on more cologne or spraying their dirty dance outfits with Lysol, wasn't making it.
Sitting in restaurants when those C.O.G.I.C. Saint ladies come to town is another kind of assault on the olfactory as they have sprayed a better brand of musk over the funk. At Applebees one time the servers put fans out to try to blow away the stink after they left. Customers were coming in the next day with a “What's that horrible smell?” look on their faces.
Now please, dear Black ladies of decorum, grace, manners, education, cleanliness and sagacity, who are doing the right thing with or without a good man, raising up children in a clean positive environment, without subjecting them to vulgarity and humiliation, please don't come back on me by arguing that this stereotype does not fit every single Black woman, because that will just allow these disgusting women to flourish with your blessing. I'm talking about the overwhelming number of sisters who be exactly like this and make all you prime time Black ladies get referred to as “nappy haired hoez” . . . and you know who they are when you see them, so say something about it to them, so I won't have to . . . and make sure y'all do that bitchy thang y'all do when you tell them.

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