Do you love me: Nelson - a Black male writer discussed Black male/female relations - 25th Anniversary Issue

In an essay in the premier issue of ESSENCE, author Louise Meriwether asked, 'Do You Love Me?' and addressed her query to the Black man. Two and a half decades later, the question remains

I Black men and the word love are not usually linked in the popular imagination. At least not in the minds of White society and a great many disappointed sisters. Instead a word like sexual is used to describe us, and not necessarily as a compliment. It's as if Magic Johnson's and Wilt Chamberlain's thousands of intimate conquests, Clarence Thomas's imaginary Coke-can pubic hairs and the O.J. Simpson trial are microcosms of all our behavior--and not the grotesque aberrations they are.

No, brothers are viewed too often as half man, half stud, with no sensitivity, as if we're penises unmoored from emotions and powered by Eveready batteries. Sadly, we often buy into these caricatures of ourselves, striving to turn lust into heroism and debauchery into virility. Any man who has been in a barbershop (or listened to 2 Live Crew) has heard these tales and likely told a few himself.

But behind the mask of sexual demons created by others (and often worn too comfortably by us) is the average brother. The guy who writes love letters more devotional than the most sentimental Babyface lyric. The guy whose heart aches when he sees a woman he desires at the movies with another man. The guy who washes dishes with gusto and makes mashed potatoes just the way his woman likes them. The guy who works two jobs then comes home and lets his kids climb all over him.

These are men who, by respecting their wives, teach their daughters how they should be treated. These are men who listen with wonder to the sounds of their children kicking in the womb. These men do know how to love. A lot of you know them already. Some of you may doubt they exist, but they do.

Somewhere between the extremes of the nasty Miami pumping-bass raps of Luther Campbell and the sugary romance of a ballad by Luther Vandross are the attitudes of most brothers. Neither all B-boy bluster or all-sensitive male, they harbor dreams of sex and dreams of romance that constantly swing in and out of balance. It is within this context that we arrive at that most pointed of questions--"Do you love me?"

The first time a woman asked "Do you love me?" I believe I replied, "Sure," which, as you might imagine, wasn't the right answer. Since then I've tried to respond more affirmatively, though I've learned that if a woman must ask, something is wrong, often something too wrong for words to easily smooth over. I mean, "Do you love me?" ranks up there with "How old are you?" and "You're putting on a little weight, aren't you?" in producing anxiety, insecurity and tension in the questioned. That's why I don't advoeate it as a source of romantic information.

Still, it's a question that's hard to avoid. The desire for verbal validation of love is a deep one. I know now that a woman sometimes just wants to hear "YES!" in big capital letters from the man in her life. It's way to cut through the bull and get funk uncut. The question then arises, what does a man want to hear when he asks you, as men do every blue moon, "Do you love me?"

"Yes, I love you" is always good. But let me suggest that what a brother wants to hear is not simply "YES!" but a second, amplifying sentence. In current slang it would translate into "YES, I love you. And I'm down for whatever." In nonslang terms I would suggest that he just wants you to believe in him. To a Black man, belief from his woman is the equivalent of the respect he so craves from other males. It is that magic glue for his self-esteem that can hold him together in bad times--and these are the worst times for Black folks since the fifties. The world outside your home is often a hostile place for your man, so hostile that calluses can grow on his soul.

The racist cabdrivers that speed by, the frightened looks of fellow elevator passengers, the condescending attitude of salesclerks at a pricey department store, the harsh indifference of bureaucrats at the unemployment office, the knuckleheaded comments of young brothers standing on street corners and the petty, racially coded language of Republican members of Congress are just a few of the discordant notes that play daily inside his head. And they play inside the heads of Black women too. Believe me, I'm not suggesting that they don't. But in the nineties it's clear that the psychological and social traps set for Black males have been frighteningly effective. And what are the implications of all this on romance?

I believe most Black men reared in this country suffer from varying degrees of insecurity. They want, like men everywhere, to affirm their self-worth. Yet this society makes it so difficult that even the most successful brothers often seem to be walking on eggshells. The arrogance and bravado often associated with Black men are defense mechanisms. The laid-back, cool demeanor can be a quieter, passive-aggressive form of the same self-protective impulse.

I think the belief a Black man wants--the belief he needs--can come in two forms. He wants his woman to believe in his love precisely because so many others won't. You have to remember that being a Black man is to experience love burdened by both fault-finding sociologists in best-seller books and the cliches of old wives' tales. It's to know that an accidental pregnancy ends up tabulated by the U.S. Department of Blame, part of the government's ongoing effort to highlight African-American irresponsibility. An infidelity, a romantic misstep, a lover's quarrel are often judged not on an individual basis but under a microscope of negative expectation. An affirmative response to "Do you love me?" is a way to banish all these psychic distractions and create the intimacy he may not often articulate but still very much craves.

This belief, however, is important in another way as well. If you are "down for whatever," then you also believe in his dreams. It means that you know his aspirations have value, that you support his goals and you truly believe he'll achieve them. Some of you might say "Oh, you just want me to stroke his ego." That's right, to a small degree. But this is not a frivolous matter. A person's dreams are projections of how he sees the future. A person without dreams accepts a reality defined by others. And that's real dangerous for a Black man in America.

Yet many brothers today talk about "keeping it real," as if what exists now is all there can be. Too many have narrow, reductive, materialistic dreams. Your belief in him can expand his confidence and his dreams and, through those dreams, your future together.

For brothers who are already successful, this need for belief has other dimensions. Your belief confirms that he deserves what he's gotten. It says that no matter how many nonbelievers try to cut him down by calling him an affirmative-action baby, a token or an Uncle Tom, you know that he has earned whatever niche he's carved out of America's harsh soil.

Your belief also says, "Even if you lose it all tomorrow, I'll still be with you." Many financially successful brothers worry whether their women love them for themselves or their cash--especially if they've met their mates after they've become successful. There is no simple way to address this kind of chronic insecurity. But an abiding belief, coupled with lots of strong, steady loving, is the best way to combat it.

Now, this belief you offer Black men should not be blind to his faults nor should it forgive abuse or suffocate your individuality. You are not his mama and never should be. You must command his respect, and you can only get it by not letting him walk all over you. I'm talking about love here, not martyrdom.

If you truly believe in him, and he's proven worthy of that belief, then I advise you not to wait around for him to ask "Do you love me?" Plant notes around the house. Call and leave the words on his answering machine when he least expects it. Whisper them in his ear when you make love. After all, it's always great to know the answer to a question before it has to be asked.

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