Super Save a Hoe
Some women are hoes. Capital H.O.E. ‘How you gonna write about empowerment and call women derogatory names?’ I can hear the criticism ringing in my ears. My response is that we can’t pretend that some women aren’t a little bit too free. I said it and mi nah tek back no talk which in patois means that I’m sticking to my guns. Now before the feminist black blogs come running to attack (you know who you are), pump your breaks a minute while I explain.
For those of you who remember cameo hair cuts, there was an old rap song by E40 called
Save a Hoe. I hope the rapper won’t mind that I spray-painted Super over the title Captain for the purpose of this post. The essence of the song was the futility of trying to rescue people that didn’t want to be saved. To those of us addicted to saving people from the bumps in their lives, there are some critical lessons to be learned. I’m using examples from my own history as a teaching aid. As an educator, I instinctively want to coach and lead those I love down a safe and steady path. Most times they resist. I think I can see their mistakes before they happen and try to get them to make a detour. While this trait might be endearing in a guidance counselor it’s downright aggravating in anyone else. Despite this realization, give me the slightest indication that trouble is brewing for someone I love and off I’d go in an instant, leaping, jumping and flying into danger zones. No one would invite me into the fray but before anyone could even dial my number, I was in the thick. Upon arriving into the heart of the emotional storm, at some point, I’d realize that I’d made a mistake. Usually this was after I’d been cussed out for being critical or I’d offered truth without being asked. You’d think that being repeatedly shut down by the recipients of my help would be enough to teach me some restraint. Nope. Fast forward to another crisis and I’d discard every lesson learned and up, up and away I’d go on my way to another interpersonal crash.
Stop. Rewind. Repeat. The women I was trying to save were starting to look worse for wear, overused and done. Too many encounters had knocked them down and they lay on their backs with their legs spread wide. Friend or foe, I recognized a hoe when I saw one. I use the word hoe but don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean women with the tendency to whore and fling puss from left to right. My label is for those women whose propensity for high risk situations leave them susceptible to getting rigorously f%cked or screwed. In my personal life I thought it was my duty to help my friends and family avoid emotional battery trains. What I learned is that advice is overrated and that people want to make mistakes on their own terms, no matter the cost. If saving is a must, I should spend my time looking inward. So with this in mind, I’m embracing the hoes in everybody, even in myself. So go ahead and be slack and slightly slutty if you want; the Super won’t say a word.
Are you repeatedly trying to save a hoe from emotional promiscuity?