The REAL Crisis in the Black (Female) Community

So.  Me and IC were choppin it up last night and we ended up talking about boys.  To be precise, we ended up talking about women who talk about boys, or partners, or marriage or relationships or all of the above.  And I remarked on how I end up in one of these conversations with every black woman in my life: the Little Sistren (both Little and Littlest), the linesisters and the prophytes, Flava, bad black girls, the academic Fam, random twitterers.  Which can be fun but lately has gotten frustrating.  Aren't we all successful, enterprising, creative and beautiful women who are doing a PLETHORA of other things outside of the (romantic) men in our lives?  Aren't we engaged in politics and art and education?  Hell, aren't some of us readies and foodies and music or entertainment heads?  So why does it seem like we end up in these conversations over and over--or complaining about these conversations (yes, I am a case in point).

Is it the crisis of the Disney Princess Generation entering its 30s?  At which point IC broke it down for me.  To paraphrase:

It is like we feel like something missing or we are unsatisfied or unfulfilled.  And instead of of focusing on correcting that or resolving ourselves, we decide that what is missing is a relationship.  So we fixate on that and decide that is what is missing and that is going to fill what is unfulfilled.

I know we keep saying stuff like this, but it is still true and still a good reminder.  This is probably why Tayari Jones post on "Penvy" resonated so much with me.  Read it but the best line is: 

"When I say get to work, I'm saying get back to you."

I'm not having a 30s crisis yet--I think.  But I am starting to get that antzy feeling--that "get to work" feeling--where I'm ready to get it poppin.  Shake things up.  Start a new project.  Six months ago, I identified that feeling with Mr. but recent events put me in a position to think twice about that.   I don't think it was him.  I think it is this transition into a new phase of life and figuring out what the new adventure is going to be.  Is it back to D.C. to do youth activism and rape crisis work?  Is it to Chicago to education work?  Is it France to work with recent immigrants?  Senegal?  Ghana?  Puerto Rico?  I'm itchy to get to work on the next step.  That is probably not the complete answer to why I don't feel completely fulfilled but at least I know that is part of it and I can start to work on the rest.  

Which is hard enough since the accepted discourse on black women's lives doesn't even give us space to even imagine it that way.  And that is a tragedy.  Imagine how many Alice, Zora, Lorraine, Lucille's we have out there who hit 30 (or more like 20, once upon a time) and convinced themselves that it wasn't a new professional, creative or economic adventure that they needed to embark upon--they just didn't have a man.  But we every update on TheRoot.com, the 5 o'clock news and our Facebook/Twitter feeds telling us what we need is a good husband. 

that is all.