Dear Little Black Boy and Girl; You’re Perfect Just the Way You Are

o-BLACK-CHILDREN-facebook Dear Little Black Boy and Girl; You’re Perfect Just the Way You Are
I read this week about a prominent teacher in Chicago telling little black boys they had a greater chance at success in life if they conformed. Cut their hair, have names that are more pronounceable, be more humble. If you do these things you’ll get people to like you more; give you more opportunities. You know what I’ve learned, stop asking people for opportunities and start taking them.

I grew up going to the largest African American school district in the country. North Forest ISD located on the Northeast side of Houston, TX. All my teachers were black, the parents, the students, the coaches. Demez felt like a normal name. It wasn’t until I started applying for colleges that I realized it wasn’t so normal. It wasn’t until my first summer interning for an engineering company and everyone wanted to call me D that I started to notice, “maybe my name is different.”

There isn’t one meeting I walk into or one email I send where someone doesn’t ask how to pronounce my name. Even though we live in a global society where Africans, Asians, Hispanics all have names that aren’t “traditional American.” Though yet and still my name is “unique.”

I learned early on something that has stayed with me every day since. People will look for reasons not to like you, not to give you the job, not to want to be impressed by you. I don’t care if you cut your dreads or change Demez White to D. White. I don’t care if you come to work on time every day and never make a mistake. You can’t conform or blend in enough. The only way they respect you is to be impressive. Is for you to wear your confidence, to know what you’re doing. To be professional and to not back down from ignorance but to face it head on.

The first time I sent my novel to a publisher they told me it was really good. In the next paragraph they told me that if I changed writing name to D. White or David White I could get more of a readership. At that moment I thought, “I’m going to have a son one day and I want to take his little hand and take him to Barnes and Noble or sit him on my lap while we’re online. I want to show him the books his father wrote and I don’t want to have to explain to him why my name isn’t on those books.” Our little black boys and girls are different from how we were but different styles, different lingo, it shouldn’t take away from how amazing they are. If only we nurture them and stop trying to teach them to fall in line.

You can be whoever you want to be. No matter your size, height, color, hair style or financial upbringing. You can get into the college you want to get into no matter your name, no matter your hairstyle, you just have to want to work for it. There are going to be people that look like you and people that look like complete strangers that will tell you otherwise. Don’t listen to them. Let your creativity flourish and let it mold you to be everything I believe you can be.

I thought I was a bright child. I never got in trouble, made great grades. When I was in the 9th grade I remember staying up late watching a Chris Rock stand up special. I’ll never forget what he said in a joke, “If you have a name where people have to double take to ask you how to pronounce it, you’re ghetto. If you call your grandma mama, you’re ghetto. If you can’t call your daddy on the phone because you don’t know his number, you’re ghetto.” I remembered laughing and then I remembered I fell into all three of those categories. I didn’t feel ghetto, I didn’t feel like I didn’t belong but in that moment I felt sad that I didn’t have a regular name. That I didn’t go on summer vacations with my mom and dad.

My name is Demez, I’m the product of an 18 year old mother, no father. I was raised by my grandparents and went to one of the worst high schools in the State of Texas. I failed out of college my first year and almost failed out of Community College. I allowed people to call me D when I first started working because I thought Demez was ghetto. I didn’t have a bank account until I was 21 and my credit was in ruins by the time I was 24. I didn’t remotely get my life together or start being proud of where I came from or who I am until I was almost 30. I tell you this because if I can’t make the mistakes I made and come from where I came from at this age. Then I know you can at 15, 16, 18. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your name or hairstyle or origins make you less than. Don’t ever believe that you’ve messed up so much, that you can’t come back from that. I promise you; you can.

Demez White

Men Don’t Heal; They Whore

521747_661840235885_118401058_31768289_1343921451_n Men are stubborn.

Men are prideful.

Men are damn near as emotional as women if not more.

What’s the difference? The difference is we aren’t allowed to be those things to the world. I can’t go to work around a bunch of men and tell them how much I miss her. I can’t get on FB and tell the world my house no longer feels like a home since her perfume is no longer on my pillow. So what outlet do I have? I could write more, I could exercise, I could work longer hours. But all of those things combined wouldn’t take my mind off the hurt, the pain I feel.

The burning in my stomach when I see her post a FB status that I know isn’t about me. The tension I feel in my neck when my phone vibrates and it’s not her number that I deleted but know by heart.

So what is my only option? The option that will lead me out of the wilderness and back to civilization? That option is replacing her because if I can’t have her I’ll have someone. And if that one woman doesn’t compare to her, there’s another and then another and then….. another.

Whoring isn’t just me running around sticking my pipe in anything that’s wearing a pretty pencil skirt and has nice teeth. Whoring with women’s brains is just as critical as whoring with what’s between their legs. Telling every woman that I meet what she wants to hear just so I won’t be alone.

Sure, there are men that are so hurt they want to fuck the best friend and the sister, they want to add every girl she’s ever talked shit about so that she can see he doesn’t need her. There are those men and those men are hoeing because they want her to feel the same hurt. They want her to call and curse him out, to yell and scream and threaten because at least she’s calling.
Men whore when we get hurt because to be hurt is like having a rabbit dog eat out your insides and you’re hands are tied behind your back.

Men whore when we get hurt because we need to know that not every woman feels like she did.

And more than anything men whore because it’s better than facing the truth, the truth that things could be so much more different if only I would have been different. The regret and fear that she’ll never want you again only pushes you into another woman’s arms.

Why do you think men are in relationships for years with good women and a week later they’re with the biggest bopper they can find? It’s because being with this woman that does nothing for your growth helps you to ignore the fact that the woman that did everything for your grown is probably a lot happier with you out of her life.

I miss Ash, Kor, Lo, De F. Baby, Melanie, Ariel… I honestly thought I would marry each one at the time I knew them and more than that I thought I would die when I wasn’t talking to them anymore. So I made new friends, flirted with new women and faked it until I made it.

My hurt was so vicious that the only thing that calmed it was other women. Their voice, their faith, their willingness to open up to me. I’ve never been the guy that meets a woman at a club and goes home with her the same night. My strength is getting in a mind and making love to every inch of those brain cells. That’s how I do my whoring when I need healing.
Most of us grow out of it but just know this. Men hoe not to be asshole or to hurt you. We hoe because we miss the hell out of you and our pride won’t allow us to share that pain with the world. Have you ever cut yourself or cracked a bone? There is so much pain before we heal. So much hurt. Men hate that feeling and we want more than anything to skip that feeling.

Men cry in the dark.

Men drink the nightmares away.

Men hoe because in the absence of our perfect woman all we want to the best substitute for you we can find. Most of us will get out of this and end up being better men because of it but just have patience.

Ten Romantic Ideas For the Winter…

I’m at work and the day is moving sort of slow, my wifi just won’t act right and who really works on a Friday anyway. So I’m going to give the world or the 12.3 people that read my blog some tips on how to be original, charming and romantic in these upcoming winter months. Nothing over the top that the average guy can’t afford but nothing like dinner and a movie either. Chicks get tired of the norm so give them something they can brag to their friends about. These are the key concepts to always keep in mind. Know your woman and what she will and won’t take to. Liquor and humor are your best friends and if push comes to shove always compliment the parts of her body that appeal to her ego. Don’t tell her she has a nice ass if she knows it’s flat or that I love your hair if you both know she shouldn’t have cut it. She loves her breasts so talk about her boobs, simple right? So read up and enjoy.

Ten: Houston is not a cold weather city which means our Winter is like most people’s Fall. This is not a bad thing at all because it allows women to still rock Fall clothing but not actually freeze. And fyi, very few women like being teeth chattering cold, unless she’s from Minnesota or something. And you want a Southern boo in your life anyway. So picnics are the perfect way of life. You can get a basket from Family Dollar, ready made fresh food and fruit from a HEB and of course wine. Chicks love wine. It won’t be humid or hot, there won’t be crazy mosquitoes, the tress will have that Fall color to the leaves and most important… When is the last time someone took her on an actual picnic? 

Nine: Take her shopping. But somewhere that you’re comfortable spending money and somewhere that you know she’ll like. I personally can’t afford to take a woman to Neimans and ball out but I do know several boutiques that are quite reasonable and have really cute clothes. She won’t try and break you and 9 times out of 10 she’ll ask you how much she has to spend. Women are sort of upfront like that when you’re sleeping together. If you’re not having sex, give her budget so there’s no confusion. If you want her, do the things to show her.

Eight: Two words… “Road Trip” my friends… Give her two weeks notice so she can get her affairs in check and tell her, “We’re going to Austin or Dallas next weekend, I already made the hotel reservations and got us tickets to blah blah blah.” Two words turn women on like nothing else. Tickets and reservations. Look, you aren’t taking her to Cabo for a week or Spain for the winter but you’re giving her a break and that’s all she really wants. Will you be required to do more in the future, yes, but for now this will do.

Seven: Take advantage of living in a really big, really pampery city. Houston probably has more spas per square mile than anywhere because we have all these mega communities like the Woodlands, Pearland, Sugarland and Katy. You go online, find a spa special where she gets a massage and mud treatment for a couple hours. Maybe you spend 120 and she has like three months to use it. So when she’s had a long day at work or a bad week she’ll remember that spa certificate, go use it and you’ll get all the residual effects from her good vibrations.

Six: Set her up a photo shoot. I’m being dead serious by the way. She’s on Facebook or Instagram all the time seeing women she knows she looks better than posting “model pics.” So tell her you know a guy with a studio and you set her something up, makeup artist are a dime a dozen in Houston, pay a chick 65 dollars to do her makeup professionally and make her dinner and work on a concept with her. She’ll complain about needing to get in shape or not having time but believe me she’ll be excited. Most women haven’t had an actual photo shoot since they graduated High School or College. Every woman has an inner model.

Five: Paintball, indoor rock climbing, laser tag. That mix between having fun and exerting energy. Lounges are great, bars are better and restaurants are cool but they do get old and sometimes you just need to let her shoot you in the face with a paintball gun. Or push you off a fake mountain so she can beat you. It’s fun and it’s different and it’ll allow her to buy some cool paintball clothes. I started off this blog by talking about how perfect our Winters are, I meant that. Running around and being a kid in 55 degree weather leads to amazing early nights and “in house” competition. Wink wink.

Four: I can’t take credit for this one because I stole it from Whitney while we were having a conversation but do you know how much time goes by when you’re playing with her iPod or she’s playing with yours looking at playlists, reminiscing about old songs. Making new lists and laughing about why this is on there or what happened to that guy. Music is so Universal, corporate women love Jeezy and UGK. The hardest guys love Al Green or Prince. A bottle or two of her favorite wine, a small bottle of Patron, a pizza and talking about and listening to music all night. You can’t make up those sorts of memories.

Three: Do something selfless. Take a Sunday morning, make sandwiches, get a bunch of Gatorades and go downtown and pass them out. Go to a nursing home and play dominoes with the elderly, just talk to them. Charity is going to allow you two to really appreciate how good you have it and by appreciating that you’ll appreciate each other more. This time of year is hard for a lot of families, helping them is going to give that relationship or courtship life.

Two: Take her to the gun range. Simple, efficient and you can’t imagine how much a woman will love shooting a gun until you see her shooting a gun.

One: Kiss her. Kiss her when you get in the car to go somewhere. Kiss her when she’s getting out the shower. Kiss her when you’re standing at the stove and she tries to steal a fry or carrot. There is power and love and lust and perfection in those stolen kisses.



Passion… Intensity… Life…

“Whenever she’s being bad I tell her, ‘Be nice Paris.’ So when I raise my voice she points her little finger at me and says, ‘Be nice mommy.’ All I can do is smile or laugh or hug her, after that it’s impossible to be mad. That little girl makes every day worth living, she’s getting bigger and taller everyday.”

I loved the glow she had in her eyes when she talked about her daughter. The way her tone changed and the features on her face softened. I knew a lot of moms and not all of them did what they did out of love, a lot of it was out of obligation and responsibility. Some of them pawned the child off on a mom or grandmother. But not her, if she was at the mall that little girl was right there in the stroller burning up credit cards with her.

I have this theory, you fall out of lust and into love with someone not because of their physical attributes but because of the person you see them as. Fuck what anyone else thinks or what anyone else see’s, it’s what you see. No matter how good or bad to the outside world, if she’s one of a kind in your eyes she’ll usually always be that.

“So men can’t say no to you and you can’t say no to a three year old? I guess life is ironic like that.” She smiled and took off her coat. Moved her hair from her face. I tried to suck in every detail without being too obvious.

“Apparently some men can say no to me since we’re meeting here right now? What’s going on with you and before you lie to me just know I can hear it in your voice, I see it in your face. Talk to me baby?” This is what I loved and hated about her at the same time, the way that she could see thru me, it was the reason I needed space. Being around her was no good for me, it consumed me. Because she was right, she did know when I was upset or sad or stressed and just seeing her smile, just touching her lips made it all better if even for a moment.

But the problem was it was only for a moment and I would spend the rest of my days waiting for that high again. A high that only she could provide.

“It’s just work stuff, nothing important.” She scooted towards me.

“I asked you not to lie to me, don’t act like you forgot who I am… Now tell me the truth!” Her smile was disarming. She touched me cheek and kissed me. I wanted to stop it, not because I didn’t want it but because I wouldn’t be able to control myself once it started but how can you control passion. How do you put chemistry in a bottle and not let it consume you?

It’s impossible, you can’t…

I could taste the peppermint on her tongue, “Kiss me like you miss me! Don’t fight it!” Her voice was low but the intensity was high.

The intensity was always high so no matter who I tried to get to replace her… I needed that same passion, that same hunger. Some men are driven by compliments or food, I was driven by heat, by moments that created moments that created memories.

Until next time…

Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I’m alone with you
You make me feel like I am fun again

The lyrics were in the background, totally out of the blue but the song made all the sense in the world.

Little Girls and Their Daddy…

I’m always talking about a son, a little boy that looks like me, that I can teach and mold and show off. I don’t talk about little girls a lot, about having a daughter. It’s not because I’m a chauvinist or because I don’t want a daughter, it’s because the thought of having a little girl scares me to DEATH! I know how much I’ll love her mother so I can only imagine how much I’d be wrapped around her little finger. I can watch my son fall, watch him get up on his own and learn from his mistakes. I don’t think I could ever watch a daughter of mine fall without picking her up and buying her a puppy and ice cream. I don’t talk about that little girl because even though she’s just a thought I’m all about protecting her, even before she gets here.  

I write about women a lot, I talked about that last night in a note. But this is the thing, that sexy woman that I can’t wait to take out, that I can’t wait to get the email or text from. The one in the tight dress with the cute smile, guess what…

She wasn’t always the image of perfection for some man, at one point she was a little girl, someone’s daughter. She waited on her father to put the money under the pillow when she lost those teeth, she waited on daddy to kill the bug or to fix the TV. Fathers are the first men women fall in love with, the first man that’s there to protect them or heal them.

Daddies give them lunch money and love them before there’s even the thought of another man. Little girls are innocent, they’re perfect in the sense that men have the ability to raise them to know their worth. Fathers have the ability to teach her that she’s a woman, a lady, that she’s priceless.  

Fathers Day is this Sunday and I know a lot of women didn’t grow up with that father in the home like he was supposed to be, this isn’t the Cosby Show. Hell, my dad has 14 kids that I know of and is a drunk so this note isn’t about this perfect world.

But this note is about the men that did right by their little girls and when they did right by those little girls they set the foundation for them to become women with standards and expectations. Women that knew he should open my door and get out and knock when he picks me up instead of blowing the horn because daddy taught me that.

Fathers change oil and get flats fixed when she’s 16 and doesn’t know what’s going on with the car, hands out money and hugs like an ATM.

There is another side to this equation though, not all women have these sorts of fathers in their lives. Some men pass away, some run away and some are just sorry so little girls can grow up seeing the worst in men. Instead of protecting her and her mother he only makes this more difficult. Not working, cheating, lying, and fathering other children that he doesn’t take care of.

Little girls grow up wanting more, needing more, seeking out more from the same men they grew up with. They have to learn the hard way, thru trial and error because there was no man to teach them their true worth. They date assholes or thugs because that’s what they saw, human beings are creatures of habit.

It’s no coincidence that if a girl has a bad relationship with her father she looks to hurt him, to go against him. Not all women… NOT ALL WOMEN! But enough of them. Strippers, crack heads, bad mothers, I’m not saying that they don’t deserve some blame but how many of them had a strong, purposeful, active, happy father in the home?

Black men are letting our little girls down and because of that our women are growing up and not getting married. They have to raise these beautiful little girls on their own or with part time dads.

I know that if God blesses me with a little girl it’s going to be my job to make whatever man that eventually comes for her have to work his ass off! It’s going to be my job to make sure she wants for nothing, to make sure that she see’s the way I treat her mother and wants that for herself. Whether she’s six months, six, sixteen or twenty six she will be able to come to me and ask for help or cry herself to sleep.

She shouldn’t be in awe of a nice restaurant or nice car, she shouldn’t take each compliment like it’s her first. Whether she looks like Kort or Elmo she should still be beautiful in her Fathers eyes and because of that… She’ll wear that confidence with pride!

Little girls love their daddies, they have since the beginning of time and that will never change. If your father is in your life and he molded you, make sure you let him know you appreciate it this weekend. And if he wasn’t there, fuck him! Just make sure you pick the right man to be around your little girl!

Demez F. White