Why I Love Brothas

My love complexities are rooted in blackness and fulfilled by the beautiful essence of brothas. They are the night and shinning physical finesse of urban America. Brothas are the towering giants who helped build this country.

Historical brothas have paid they way for today's brothas. Where would Barack Obama be without Thurgood Marshall? Would Tavis Smiley have been possible had Ed Bradley not existed? And, Dr. Cornel West paved the way for Michael Eric Dyson.

From legendary to present, brothas are a civilized presence that withstands hardships. As the great historian John Hope Franklin said, brothas are often alienated from society - a result of the mainstream's social injustices. Though they are often the subjects of violence and unnecessary brutality, they rise and keep on keeping on. They survive as best they can.

Some hustle on corners; others work menial jobs, sweeping their way from day-to-day trying make a living off minimum rage. I see you brotha; I hear you. Your plight is unbearable for most, but you maintain dignity, strength and courage.

They are the heirs of Malcolm, Martin, Coltrane and Dubois. Without brothas, the inherited culture lessens, communities fade and eventually die.

I get mad when I see brothas with white girls on their arms. It's as if I know their moms. Still, my love for brothas remains. Their hard work, dedication and pride is all I know. My father, brother, cousins, uncles - all the brothas in my life - I love with grace.

Go head on brotha with your business suit and low-trimmed fade. I recognize the baggy pants and cornrolls. I see beyond the bling-bling. All that ice can't hide your troubles and afflictions.

You may be scarred, brotha. Misunderstood by seasoned sistas. But, keep your head to the sky and see what the end will be. You are the soul of a phenomenal culture, supported by sista and brotha hood.

When sistas love brothas, they love a reflection of themselves.

I rise and say with pride: I love brothas!

Salaam,
E. Tanille