I don't subscribe to the notion that there are "no good black men out there". I know that there are, because I know good black men personally, and I see them in my day-to-day life. I know that there are, because I was raised by a good black man, because my black male friends are good black men, because my girlfriends are being loved by good black men and because I have dated good black men.

I think some women get tripped up because they confuse "perfection" with goodness; or because they confuse material possession with goodness. We have to be careful about determining someone's worth based on what they have acquired, as opposed to what they inherently have inside. Being a good man is not always about having things or giving gifts, but it’s also about giving time, love, respect, esteem, etc.--the non-tangibles that frame a loving, healthy relationship.

We must also have enough clarity to recognize a wonderful man when we receive him, no matter what the label in his jeans reads, the type of car he drives or the title on his business card (if he even has one). I’m not saying not to have preferences surrounding such things; I am simply nudging you to look a little deeper.

It is important, nay paramount, that we remember that we receive what we call into our lives through our own words and actions. If you say "there are no good black men" you will not attract good men. If you lower your expectation on what constitutes good behavior, the men in your life will lower their behavior to fit the bar that you've set. If you excuse the behaviors of men who are of poor intention because "there are no good black men" anyway, they will continue to behave poorly because they can.

I am raising a young black man and I refuse to tell him that he can't be good because he is black and black men are not good. I'm going to continue to show him how to respect and treat a woman and continue to help him to aspire past being just good, and onto being great.

I recognize that there are larger issues at play here—issues that are rooted deep in the psyche of the black race and embedded in the history of this country. I've seen and heard the statistics on the number of black men in jail, and I'm aware of the uneven ratio of black men to black women in the U.S.

I understand that, if you're still single, finding your good black man might be more difficult than it has been for others. My point here is that it's not an impossible task, nor do any of the hurdles to their coupling with black women negate their existence. I just can’t hop on the black male bashing bandwagon when I know so many intelligent, creative, honest, respectful, educated and responsible black men--whether they are available or taken--and I tip my hat to them for being more than a statistic, more than a stereotype or a generalization and for being even better than "good".

Kim Jackson currently works in the marketing and promotions arena. She co-authors a women’s empowerment blog, Peace Love and Pretty Things, is a contributing style and fashion writer for Examiner.com, and she pens fashion, beauty and lifestyle articles on her personal blog, Chic Mommy, Cool Kid.

(Photo Source)

Fact: Not everyone will fall in love with your goals. Actually, some people will intentionally try to distract you from moving forward with what you want because they derive some pleasure from pulling you down. Whether you call them naysayers, or haters, there are some things you should keep in mind when protecting your vision.

It’s a new dawn and a new day for me. And no, it’s not because I am joining Weight Watchers. It is because I am getting off the diet train for good. No more counting points, no more buying food that my poor dog won’t even eat and no more spending money on things that are simply not going to help me in any way.

I have decided to take my life back from the diet wranglers and boy do I feel good.

I know by now, you are all tired of hearing about new diets, new plans, new pills you can take to make you look like whatever hip celeb they have decided to post on the newest pictures. If not, then this is not for you.

I have decided that at my age, I am done with diets and plans that do nothing but leave me broke and discouraged about whom I am as a woman and what I should or should not look like. I came to this decision after being burned out on going to a gym where I was the largest person in the room and asking for help to use a machine turned into the nerd asking one of the cool kids if they could have a seat next to them on the bus.

I also came to this decision after being sick and tired of every New Year’s Day starting off with 1001 new diet and weight loss commercials that are mostly designed to separate the desperate from their money. I have simply had enough of others telling me what I should look like, what size shoe I should wear and how my breast, hips and other body parts should appear.

This was not an easy process for me at all, but it was worth every moment to be at peace with who I am today. I realized sometime ago, that I was beginning to keep a mental calculator of what I had eaten, what I was supposed to eat and what I should and should not eat. Now for a person who is not dealing with a mental disorder, this may be ok. But for someone in my shoes, who is dealing with being bipolar, it brought on more stress than I needed and was beginning to make things unmanageable for me.

So, sitting at my dinner table one day, I planned the meal that I really wanted to have instead of the one that I thought I was supposed to have in order to be a good person and live a healthy life. I found in preparing that meal that I actually wanted, that there was not too much of a difference between the meals Maybe a few potatoes where I would not have them normally, but other than it was like the other meals. I also noticed that I was able to eat until I was comfortable. I was not hungry or starving as I had been before when eating a more regulated meal.

I have to say that in the beginning I felt like a kid that was cheating on a test or something and that at any moment Dr. Oz was going to jump through the T.V. and chastise me for eating! But after some time, I realized that I was practicing portion control, without thinking about it. I was not stuffing myself and at the same time, I was not pinning myself down to boiled chicken breast and bland broccoli. I actually feel better about who I am and about where I am going since I removed all the guilt and other emotions I had attached to eating and to food.

The big question is have I lost any weight? The answer is…yes, a little. But it was less about what I ate and more about controlling my stress hormones and gaining some peace of mind. And while I have lost weight, it’s not about that for me, it’s about being able to eat food that I like, while not feeling guilty and understanding what my body needs in order to be happy and run well. I am not saying that everyone should stop doing diets that work for them, by all means feel free to continue on your own journey, but as for that diet rollercoaster, I no longer want to ride.

Michelle is a Midwestern girl, with a Southern heart and a bit of an eccentric streak running through her. Along with being a wife and mother of 2, she also wears the hats of student, counselor, life coach,cook, friend and occasional matchmaker, all while keeping a Zen like approach to life and all that comes with it. Balance and comedy are the keys to keeping life interesting and livable and she has ALMOST mastered both.

I remember when I was a freshman in high school how painfully shy and introverted I was, due in part, to the fact that I was very thin and waif like--A Black version of the pencil stick model, Twiggy, without any of her fanfare. Feeling unworthy in the presence of my classmates, I only allowed a select few into my realm of frienships. One of the chosen was a fellow I'll call Willie.

Willie was a comedic fool. A total cutup. In the school's library where quiet is mandated, Willie would keep me in stitches with his outrageous pranks and antics. He wasn't just fun to be with, he unknowingly helped me to feel like I belonged. An aspiring artist, one day,Willie took out a pad and asked if he could "draw" me. Surprised, but pleasantly so, I asked him "Why, why me?" His response was simple and direct " Because you're pretty."

Willie and I were true buddies. There wasn't a reason for me to doubt his sincerity. That moment in time led me to think that, perhaps, there was something about me, in spite of my lacking certain physical attributes the other girls got way back in grade school! As an adult, I've come to know my truths simply by living and learning from life experiences.

I am beautiful and not just in a physical sense. I am beautiful because I am accepting of who I am. It doesn't matter what you do. Who you know. How talented you are, or even how your life has turned out to be... you can only do you and that's a good thing. The key is not to let others obscure your "it" factor. We all have something different inside of us that no other person in the world has and that's what makes us unique and others want to know us!

Over the years, women have come to me seeking counsel on life experiences. I encouraged them to find their light. That part of themselves that for whatever reason, they have forgotten to allow to shine. It is a journey of sorts to "Becoming". Sometimes validation come in the form of friendships. Other times It's out of ones' own experiences. Rediscovering our self worth and redefining who we are can become a challenging journey to self-awareness.

Take heart and embrace the journey.What is it about you that causes others to take notice? Is it your intellect? Your culinary skills? Your drive and ambition? Your compassion for others? As I'm writing this I'm staring at two self portraits of me done in later years. The sketches by a professional artist were free of charge because he wanted to capture that 'something' about me. My friend Willie would have gotten a kick out of that!

What is your essence? That factor that draws others to seek out your presence? Once you define the special thing that makes you, you? Turn around and offer it freely to others. And always...

Be kind to yourself.

Clara Freeman is a nurse, freelance writer and blogger. A former nurse advice columnist, she is also an advocate for women, children and the elderly. For more of her motivational messages visit http://wisewoman2.wordpress.com

http://fuckyeahethnicmodels.tumblr.com - Featuring models of all ethnicities

[Editor's note: This post is apart of our My Sister's Keeper Project to promote mental health and emotional wellness among Black women.]


I’ve been through the valleys of addiction, self-loathing, guilt and depression. I tried to dress the valley up, adorn it and make it sexy. It was the least I could do. I didn’t have the social boldness to risk making everyone uncomfortable by freely admitting my confusion. I was addicted to being a victim of my circumstances; addicted to being misunderstood and judged. Secretly, believing that whatever I did was not good enough, that people would not like me if I really expressed myself and that I was selfish, lazy and incompetent. Unconsciously creating the same destructive situations in my life by clinging to crippling, naive ideas. Wanting to mean something…to stand for something… but finding nothing but lack and artificial dreams that I’d stolen from others. So much darkness and misdirection behind the closed doors of shame. Nowhere else to go. Swallowed up.

I had tried everything from drugs and alcohol to retail therapy and recklessness, and nothing altered my state of mind enough to ignore the pain. The safe haven of my dogmatic beliefs no longer validated my purpose for being alive. Without inward validation, I had searched for it in the world. And like any self-serving pusher, it gave it to me when it felt like it and took it away when I wanted it too much. Rejected by the world, aka Myself, I fell on my knees, searching for God, and I found truth. Curled up in a ball on the floor, begging for enlightenment, I found unconditional love. I found purpose in my suffering. I found an inner flame that would consume old beliefs and negative thinking to allow a new me to be born.

“It is most often suffering that kindles love,
loss that deepens understanding,
hurt that opens the eyes of the heart
that see forgiveness as a way of life and
peace of mind as our birthright.”

~ Fire in the Soul by Joan Borysenko, Ph.D.

Picture this: Five woman and five men, all black, sitting in a unisex hair salon listening to the radio.  The sound of hair clippers and the aroma of Dudley Hairspray filled the fairly quiet room as a baritone voice emerged from the barber area.  "Yeah, you can't get a black woman to do anything!" he said.  "White women are more submissive than black women. They'll do anything for their man; even mow the yard."  He continued.  The other men nodded in agreement.  Until he made those snide remarks, we weren't paying any attention to their little conversation.  But of course, this piqued our attention.

"Don't take the bait”, my hairstylist warned. She knew we were ready to fire back and she tried to calm us down. "You know it's a setup", she said. We all agreed; so, we did not respond.  In attempt to drown them out, I pumped up the volume on the radio.  Another young lady ate her breakfast with her back to the men.  My stylist quietly continued to spritz and curl her client's hair.

"A white woman will be there through thick and thin", he said while slightly looking in our direction. "Don't do it.", she warned us again. But this time it was too late. I had held my peace long enough. "Yeah, because she probably has lots of time on her hands. Most white women don't have to work because their man supports them.  So they have all the time in the world to do everything- especially mow the yard."

My comment set the place off!  Everyone, hairstylist and barber included, went back and forth for nearly forty-five minutes on this touchy subject.  "A black woman doesn't cut the crust from the bread when she fixes a sandwich!" one of the guys yelled. "White women trim it up all nice and neat", he said sarcastically. He also added, "I don't won't a mad black women zig-zagging across my lawn and messing it up! We went on and on.

Toward the end of this heated debate, it was obvious that they were only trying to get underneath our skin just as my stylist suggested. None of them believed that black women are lazy, worthless, or inferior to white women as they implied earlier with their negative comments. It was obvious because all five black men, professional black men, are married to black women.

If they were so convinced that white women make better partners, at least one of them would have married a white woman. But they all married black women. You know why? Because they, just as many black man, are well aware that no other woman will love them, feed them, nurture them, take care of their children, fight for them - whether right or wrong, curse them out when needed, beat them down then turn around and nurse them back to full strength - like a black woman. And we'll do it all through thick and thin!


Mikki Zimmerman is a writer, Louisiana native and proud sports-crazed member of the "Who Dat Nation" - supporting the New Orleans Saints since the age of 8. She is an animal lover, preferable cats and dogs, who is a dreamer with a HUGE imagination. Currently she is a graduate student working towards an MBA with a concentration in Marketing. Her first book - Can I Get a Witness? 21 Frustrations of Black Women (Including Me) is available online @ Xlibris.com, Amazon.com or by calling 888-795-4174.

I am not a size 6

I am not a size 2

I am not a size 10

I am not a size 12

I am size Me

‘Cause my hipster-huggin’ horizontal hips

Are accompanied by luscious, lustful lips

As my fruitful fat ass fits firmly on my back

I touch my kinky-straightened hair, which reminds me that I am Black

For I can’t pretend

That I am a friend

Of life’s blond hair, blue-eyed Barbie doll

Since I am dark-haired, with brown eyes

And five foot three tall

Does my body resemble a celebrity?

Only the resemblance of size me

Do my silicone breasts cause curiosity?

Only the natural breasts of size me

Does my wide nose bother thee?

Only the African nose of size me

The size of me

Represents my ancestors’ decree

About how it was to be

A slave

A subservient slave

Locked in his master’s microwave

Of ultraviolet rays

Of destruction

The destruction

Of Size Me’s production

Developed from society’s obstruction

Of power

Power that perpetually towers

Over Size Me’s tainted hour

Glass figure

The figure of non-working out niggers

Whose measurements tend to be bigger

Than their Caucasian counterparts

I can’t help it that I have a switch when I walk

And a Caribbean accent when I talk

For my hearty hips created the switch

As my full fledged lips created the glitch

In perfection

So the question is “what is perfection?”

I know Mr. Uncle Tom

You think we are a ticking time bomb

Of gluttony

But I love me some mac’ and cheese

And black eyed peas

Followed with some greens and candied yams

Yet you are still trying to tell me who I am

I am Size Me

A combination of cultural variety

That was derived from your prejudiced anxiety

Called racism

So I want to thank you for enslaving me

For it gave me

The title of original American beauty

Mrs. Voluptuous

In democracy we must trust

You can keep your supermodels and low fat calories

For I will forever be

Mrs. Size ME!


Crystal Belle has been writing poetry since the age of 9. She is a High School English teacher in Brooklyn, New York. Belle recently published her first volume of poetry titled Woman on Fire. You can find her work at http://crystalbellepoet.blogspot.com

Visit your local bookstore or browse online selections of African-American literature and you'll likely find a plethora of books featuring highly-sexualized images of Black women accompanying titles like Altered Destiny: A Hustler's Choice or Still Wifey Material(pardon me while I throw up). Gone are the days when Barnes & Noble would have an African-American Literature section that featured books by Alice Walker, Walter Mosley, Donald Goines, Richard Wright, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Zora Neale Hurston, and even, I regret to say, Eric Jerome Dickey (blech).

In the featured selections you found a variety in time, perspective, tone, and message. These selections have been replaced by tired, done-to-death novels about hustlin, and love triangles gone wrong. Of the new featured selections, the only variety is in the name of the authors and the pairs of breasts prominently displayed on the book covers.

Five to ten years ago -- before self-publishing became easy enough for a third grader to do -- books like Man Child in the Promised Land, The Bluest Eye, The Color Purple, Black Girl Lost and Invisible Man were prominently displayed. In fact, I was exposed to some of the finest African-American literary works for no reason other than that they were displayed in a bookstore.

If you wanted to find a run of the mill tale about a woman who slept with her best friend's baby daddy, you had to visit a corner in the hood to find it. While I don't necessarily agree that certain books only deserve to be housed on card tables on 125th Street in Harlem, I miss the days of not being disgusted when I come upon the African-American Literature section in bookstores.

Some might argue that I shouldn't concern myself with these books if they don't interest me; I should spend my money on the books that I want to read. But I have much reason to be concerned. Bookstores are featuring these books and making them more readily available because people are buying these books en masse. Black people -- who may very well relate to some of these books -- are likely the main procurers of these books. Other people -- likely White people as history has proven -- are buying these books because they epitomize many of the stereotypes about Black people that far too many Whites are enamored with. So, how does this affect me?



I don't want to be bombarded with subpar writing masquerading as the best of modern contemporary African-American literature; I want to choose from a variety of well-written Black literary works. I want to choose from books that challenge me to write and think better or offer me new perspectives.

I don't want my choices to be limited to books that add no value to my life. I don't want to have to choose between a book about a woman whose baby daddy got locked up for selling drugs and a book about a woman whose baby daddy is cheating on her. I can watch Maury Povich for one hour at no charge to get my fix of hoodtacular drama.

People are obviously buying these books in large numbers. If not, bookstores wouldn't give them prominent display in their stores. So, yeah, this affects me. When I can find infinite selections of inexpensive hood life novels and have to search harder and pay more for thoughtful and well-crafted novels that offer varied perspectives of African-American life, it becomes a personal problem.

I wish Black people would get a clue. I know we're not the only people buying these books, but I wouldn't be surprised to find that we're the majority procurers. I'm not against the existence of these books. I don't like them, but I understand why a market for these books exists. What I am against, however, is how we continue to pigeonhole ourselves.

We use our currency to make a statement about what we value. If we're spending our money on uni-faceted depictions of ourselves we'll create a climate in which writers who want to offer us varied perspectives, present us with new opportunities and challenge us to higher thinking will be met with obstacles that early Black writers made strides to overcome.

Variety is the issue here. I suppose, begrudgingly, that the story of the ride or die woman who will get on the stroll for her man should be told. But that tale needs to be countered. And perhaps, some might argue, that a place needs to exist for writers who have had no formal training or invested much time refining their craft; perhaps people who merely want to tell a story deserve to be read too. But mediocre and unrefined stories that keep being repeated need to be countered with well-thought, polished, reflective and challenging stories. The only way we can ensure the latter is to invest in those kinds of works and to encourage others to do the same. I hope this is not merely wishful thinking.

Note: I want to extend a special 'Thank You' to Alexandra (@youngfabmama) for engaging me in a conversation that sparked me to write to this post.

Kay Renee resides in Boston, Mass. She is currently pursuing her Master's Degree in Liberal Arts (concentrating in Anthropology). She is heavily guided by her multi-cultural background and she has a passion for immersing herself in various cultures. She is passionate about a number of social issues, particularly those concerning cultural, racial and gender equality while enjoying sports, social commentary and popular culture. She can be contacted via her website: kayrenee.com

Carl and Kenya Stephens recently appeared on The Monique Show to discuss how they reinvigorated their marriage. According to the Stephens', their relationship veered off course when Kenya stepped into the controlling, masculine role.

In the video Carl says,"There's definite roles men should play in a relationship and definite roles that women should play. A lot of times we ignore those things thinking it's outdated but really it has a major impact on how we relate as a couple. "

Kenya explains further, "I had a big penis. I wanted control. I had to have it." Kenya's embrace of her place as submissive, supportive wife saved her marriage.

Shout out to Black and Married With Kids for the video.

What's your take on the Stephens' view on relationships? Is there something to be learned?


Join The Conversation. Follow For Harriet on Twitter here.

I make it a point to celebrate my heritage everyday, but that doesn't lessen the joy I feel come February 1. Lately, I've been thinking about how my relationship with Black History Month has changed from the time I was a kid.

As one of only a couple Black students in my privileged, predominantly white elementary school, Black History Month became yet another occasion where my blackness took center stage.

Without fail, well-meaning but utterly clueless teachers sought me out in the classroom for eye contact when discussing the contributions of Rosa Parks or Harriet Tubman. Consequently, I developed a deep resentment for Black History Month and the faux reverence that accompanied it.

My story isn't a novel one. I've heard similar accounts from upper middle class men and women of all ages. And depressing as those memories may be, today I value them. I learned at an early age how to survive in mixed company that wasn't truly vested in my spiritual uplift.

I don't blame those misguided instructors. They had no idea what it was like to feel the curious stares of 20+ pairs of prepubescent eyes for 28 days straight (or at least not in this way).

Though I regret the time I wasted on fruitless attempts to fade into the sea of whiteness, the entire ordeal has made me appreciate my current sense of contentment.

I'm confident in the woman I am, and the woman I'm becoming.

Now instead of obsessing over how I will blend in, I'm steadfastly focused on how I will distinguish myself. How will I carry on the work of my foremothers? If they managed to stand tall in the face of abuse and oppression, I can do the same.

And that's this month's theme on For Harriet: Making Your Mark on History. Have you thought about the legacy you're leaving? How the decisions you make every day could have an impact?

It seems that every time I forget how interconnected we all are in struggle and in triumph, God sees fit to remind me that no man is an island.

Throughout these next 20-plus days, I'm committed to meditating not only on my personal power but how I can channel my energy into effecting change for all, and I hope you'll do the same.

With love and gratitude,
Kimberly N. Foster
Publisher & Editor in Chief

Email Kim at Kimberly@ForHarriet.com with feedback or concerns. Feel free to connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.

On April 12, 2001, I went in for a routine Pap – after not having had one for a few years for some pretty typical reasons: lack of insurance and body image issues. I was expecting the routine prodding and poking-the uncomfortable climb into the stirrups and the heat of the doctor's lamp to be the most unbearable part of my visit. Instead, I got the shock of my life: a diagnosis of cervical cancer.

Call me old-fashioned but when friends tell me about meeting a new man, I am genuinely excited. However, the mixed feelings begin with this familiar phrase, “Girl you should see his ride!” My thoughts begin to race. Did he lure her with the goods? What if these luxuries did not exist, would he still be considered a potential candidate? I have seen plenty of women who have let a man slide a bit in the personality category, because of his riches. Many women have even forgone attraction for the promise of shopping sprees, jewels, or the simple comfort of the “S” word…stability.

Let’s get back to the basics. What is it that attracts us to each other? Some scientists believe in pheromones – that chemical animal attraction that draws us almost blindly to each other. Have you ever felt it? There is something about the thrilling feeling of reciprocated desire. But where does it originate? More importantly, what can we learn from the lesser animals about purpose and roles?

It is a familiar occurrence. A young healthy male displays his colors or sounds a mating call to attract a perspective female mate. If she is drawn to his demonstration and accepts his offer, the ritual begins. Some species of birds build nests with various materials to show proof of being a good provider. They do the work before finding a suitable mate, establishing a solid foundation. They are smart little peckers.

Switch your attention to the male/female human species. A man’s need to impress or acquire items or a lifestyle that attracts women is natural. Any direction you spin the issue, males are supposed to chase or initiate females in contact. The major role women play in this activity is acceptance or denial. Ladies, this is a power not to be taken lightly. We know men should in some way show they are capable mates; able to create life and sustain it. The ultimate biblical and biological goal is to be “fruitful and multiply”, but where does that leave us 21st century women?

Should we be attracted to wallets, vehicles, massive credit limits, private jets, mansions and private communities? Is this the alternative to physical strength, intelligence, good intentions, a favorable blood line, and hard work ethic? Perhaps material items & portfolios have replaced the family involved, community-backed, and well-spoken for gents of yester year. Women do not expect ancient mating dances and the intricate markings of our African ancestors, but a recommitment to the value of the male role is overdue.

Rituals may be out of the question, but the concept is for a man to show his virility. Ask yourself can this man sire and raise your children or be a good step father? If you do not want to have children, the rules still apply. Survival of the fittest in this arena means physical strength, ingenuity and substance. You want a man who will not only provide financially, but emotionally as well. In relationships, we should look for a person who will support us when it counts the most. Certainly, flashing a diamond or some cash will brighten a mood, but they are temporary fleeting moments and certainly unfulfilling.

Make no mistake you can tell a lot about a man from his bank account. However, men do not come with a letter of intent any more than babies come with manuals. Much of the knowledge you will gain is through interaction and experience. There is much that we can surmise if we listen to a man discussing his background and goals. Does he speak with passion and a sense of urgency to achieve his desired future? If he is chock-full of excuses and complaints, recognize it quickly and “exit stage left”. Try to find out how he has dealt with life’s challenges and obstacles. This “interview” process of candidates, otherwise known as “dating”, is essential.

The quest to find the right man may seem like a game of “Hit or Miss”. But, before letting men into our hearts, bed, psyche, we should do our best to know the individual and what he is capable of. Otherwise this dating thing is just a pointless endless game with many defeats. Think of marriage or moving in together as a business merger. You both bring something to the table and you clearly need each other to conquer the future.

Ladies, how do we avoid the dangling Golden Carrot? So he promises you shopping sprees or simply to pay your rent or mortgage, but is he your match or your, want-to-be savior? Decide today that whatever you want in life, it will not require a man to achieve it. However, resign yourself to see a man as a co-pilot. Can you fly a plane by yourself (i.e. buy a home, travel, become a success)? Yes, but it is a much more enjoyable experience with someone else, especially in times of turbulence and soaring.

Maybe you are tired of the roller coaster of searching for Mr. Right and have decided you do not need a companion. Be clear haphazard casual dating of men you have no intention of being in a relationship with is a waste of time. It sets you back, and is occasionally dangerous. Finding a man with 20 out of 20 on your “perfect man” list is unrealistic, but that does not mean candidates with 2 out of 20 should be entertained. You may actually start to believe the small pond you are swimming in is the only source of a “good catch”. Work on getting out of the habit of casual dating, sex, etc…Your efforts will either yield major profits or emotional bankruptcy.

Playing hard to get for the sake of the chase is equally flawed. If you desire to, you can watch talk shows, read books, listen to radio discussion and talk with your friends. If you leave a man thinking you are too good for him or disinterested you may be left alone. When you find a man - the right man, he will go the extra mile without seeming desperate. The communication of his feelings towards you and his intentions will be easy to recognize, receive, and reciprocate. Getting to know you and sharing himself with you will be a priority. The display or mention of materials gifts, funds, trips, etc., might be the bait that hooked you, but it will be the essence of the man that reels you into the boat.


Keisha McLean has always had a passion for words and writing. Her love for God, community, music and youth can be attributed to the women in her upbringing. She enjoys singing and listening to a broad variety of music. Keisha admits she spends a bit too much time on social media networks and blogging. However, she stays grounded by facilitating life skills workshops for teenagers. You can find Keisha on Twitter as @KJayTruth or on her blog http://thejoyoftruth.blogspot.com