| Robert Fleming's unique collection
of erotic short stories reveals black sensuality that's
imaginative and touching as well as breath-taking and
sweat-breaking. Stereotyped as studs and dominatrices, portrayed
in videos with gyrating booties backing it up to spraddle-legged
loins, black people rarely encounter literary and pop images
integrating their genital sexuality with head, heart, work,
commitment and soul hunger. So, Fleming has intentionally
selected stories about heterosexual coupling that illustrate a
principle claimed by Maya Angelou: the hottest erogenous zone is
between our ears, not between our legs. Have no fear, though;
fire down below is by no means neglected here. But it ain't porn
— sex reduced to its least human terms — when the
titillation flows from the pens of Old Masters like John A.
Williams and Clarence Major, the lush vision of Syracuse
University fiction professor Arthur Flowers and the feminist
consciousness of New Orleans arts guru Kalamu Ya Salaam, who
edited The Black Collegian for more than a decade and has moved
on to co-found a multi-media publishing company, lead a poetry
performance ensemble and cut a spoken-word CD.
After Hours * * *
* *
He was blessed with good looks and a
bag full of humour and lies, but his luck never shone in
the 419 business. He failed to make it even at a time
when it seemed that every Igbo brother living in Festac
town was hitting it big in the advance fee fraud scam,
and relied on his charm and good looks to survive. He
never lacked women (single desperate ladies and sugar
mummies scattered all over Lagos) who are willing to
take care of him.
When he met Chinwe, he told her that
he was a business man, car importer, exporter and
general contractor. He always managed to convince a
friend to lend him one of their state-of-the-art cars
which he used to take Chinwe for a spin around the
block, and ferry her across town to Victoria Island
where her office was located. What he didn’t tell her
was that he was also a merchant in a special type of
commodity – women like her. Chinwe fell for his charm, looks,
lies and false promises.
Contemporary African Women Struggle With
Love
* * *
* *
This is not to say that black men are
not capable of loving white women and vice versa, and
don’t you go thinking that I’m racially biased/ No, I am
not. I have been with white chics in the past but surely
like attracts like. I’m down with our black sisters any
day, for reasons that wifey won’t like to see me mention
here. Again, don’t call me a racist, we sure do have
lots of unmarried sisters in our communities, and it
would help our cause if the likes of Ashley Cole do also
look their way, as role models to young black men, they
should set the pace.
Who says black sisters cannot
generate enough column inches and media profile, capable
of attracting sponsorships and increased earnings for
black brothers? The person should
check out Naomi Campbell, a sister like that is
capable of reviving dead careers with her on your side.
That’s what I’m talking about. Black
Brothers And Their White Chics
* * *
* *
* * *
* *
With clothes in hand, Mavis stood trying to figure what was the better
choice, try to dress quickly and silently in here, or slip naked back into the
front room and dress in there. Suppose Raoul woke up while she was dressing?
Suppose when she moved to go into the front room the floor squeaked or the door
squealed and Raoul saw her naked? How could she explain this to Raoul?
Raoul Silver Song
* * *
* *
She was wearing an
all-blown out Afro which circled her head like an
angel’s halo, immaculate Mac makeup and a beautiful,
colourful flowered summer dress which revealed her
well-shaped shoulders, part of her back and pronounced
her breasts sensuously. At 5 feet 7 she was all curves
with cello-shaped hips and a considerable Africa-blessed
behind. Her pretty feet were in flat brown Aldo sandals
and her toes were perfectly manicured with silver nail
polish. She wore a toe-ring on each second toe. She did
not quite look like those high-maintenance girls who men
tried to avoid in an effort to control their wallet
strings, but it was clear that she took care of herself.
She looked beautiful with her small nose, thick lips,
trimmed eyebrows, long lashes, high cheekbones and her
large sepia-coloured eyes.
Forbidden Fruit
* * *
* *
Actually, the Crack Ho put the
prostitute out of business in the hood. How can a nigguh pimp a
two dollar Crack Ho? Those men familiar with the crack ritual no
longer bothered dating square women. The Crack Ho made the
"chase" unnecessary. She was more accessible and
reasonable than the square woman and the prostitute. No
conversation was necessary, just drop the rock on the table and
it was on. She performed all manner of tricks, surpassing any
monkey in the zoo.
And now her sexual manners have infected hip
hop culture. The video ho's reflect the Crack Ho's unabashed
shamelessness and debauchery. Actually, the video ho is a Miller
lite version of the Crack Ho. The video ho's origin is the Crack
House because it was there that the negress performed for
basically nothing, a crumb of crack. The video ho's also perform
for nothing, for a chance to be seen. My daughter closed down
her New York casting company because she became tired and
disgusted sending her sisters out to be video ho's.
It is almost laughable to hear women
speak of themselves as "Sisters of Integrity," in light
of all I have seen and participated in during my sojourn
as a Crack Head.
Negro
Psychosexuality
* * *
* *
Brown
Sugar 2 features renowned black
authors writing outside of the genre they are known for, but in
their own unique style, creating sexually real and emotionally
vulnerable, women and men. Whether born in the North, South,
East, or West, or the Caribbean, whether living uptown, downtown
or in small town middle America; whether a college freshmen or a
sexy senior citizen; the collection's eclectic characters share
a common bond: the yearning for a purely passionate connection
for just that moment. "A one-night stand is not about the
unremarkable, the practical or the mundane," Taylor states.
"It is about the fantasy of what could be though we know it
will not be and the beauty of not caring. Either way, it feels
good to be bad. That's probably why we do it."
Brown Sugar
* * *
* *
created 13 October
2007 |
