by Michelle Talbert

“Have you heard that new diss track going at Jay Z?”

“Who dissed Jay?”

“Bey.”

In the fewer than seven days that have elapsed since the release of Beyoncé’s already-legendary ode to Black womanhood, by way of the visual album Lemonade, the meme-loving world has set their sights on clowning her husband Jay Z, while others are skewering him as a philanderer, cheating on the Queen Bey herself.

What is going on here? Jay and Bey are the King and Queen, respectively, of the well-manicured, highly and tightly controlled media image. Beyoncé has filmed now multiple surprise videos and albums in cities across the globe (as a former corporate lawyer, I must admit that I would love to take a gander at her non-disclosure agreements). Hell, they got married in the middle of New York City and no one caught wind of the pending nuptials until the day of. I mean, yeah, there was that one time in the elevator after the Met Gala caught on hidden camera, but that was neither Bey nor Jay, that was Bey’s baby sister, Solange, wildin’ out. And neither publicly addressed the altercation or its cause. Until now...possibly.




Why would they consciously air their "dirty laundry" on screen for the salacious-rumor-loving, meme-creating, 24-hour news-cycle-watching, social media consuming, hairpin-TwitterFinger-tweeting public to devour and spit back out into their faces? And why the hell would the King of Bed Stuy’s Marcy Projects, a bad mother-shut-yo-mouf rapping, swagalicious, mogul like Jay Z allow himself to have his improprieties displayed, dissected, rebutted, rebuffed and exposed not by an enemy but by his wife?

Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can

Lemonade debuted Saturday night. I chose to pay homage to our recently lost Prince Rogers Nelson, by going to see Purple Rain at a theater here in Miami, opting to watch, more like consume and absorb, Lemonade on Sunday.

Sunday I awoke to a text message from my cousin, a long-time fan of Jay, also from New York...and a guy: “So to be clear hov cheated on Bey? Is that what happened?” My first thought was, “Huh? What? Wow! What did Bey say/sing?”

If you've not yet seen or heard the album, it is a beautifully woven tapestry of experiences, exhibited through stunning visuals, incredible music and the gut-wrenching yet graceful poetry of warsan shire. Lemonade is an unapologetic love letter that recounts the experiences of many a Black woman who have loved a man--be it father, lover, son--and lost them, whether by betrayal or the hand of another. The album unfolds as a journey from intuition of possible wrongdoing to confirmed betrayal to forgiveness and redemption.

As my sister For Harriet writer Diana Veiga says, “ Men are mostly absent on Lemonade. But they are there.” And the one man who is there front and center is Beyoncé’s husband, Jay Z.

Beyoncé is an artist. She may not send a subtextual tweet or respond to the myriad criticisms hurled her direction via a rebuttal press conference or media interview, but she’ll let you know how she feels, eventually. Just a sampling of exhibits A through, hell I’ve lost count, include: Y’all haters corny with that Illuminati mess, she likes her Negro’s nose with Jackson5 nostrils and her baby heir with baby hair and Afros. Check and mate. Any questions?

So it should come as no surprise that Beyoncé used her art as the vehicle to share the impact of witnessing her mother’s marriage dissolve, her own husband’s infidelity and other stories from her circle of sister-friends--remember the domestic abuse her sister Kelly Rowland shared that she’d endured?

After watching Lemonade, the one takeaway that appears evident to all is that Bey has been betrayed. She’s been cheated on. Lied to. Broken hearted. And the offending party was the love of her life. The offender was Jay Z. Jay Z, her husband of eight years and father to her daughter Blue Ivy. The man she’s known since she was 16. Her collaborator. Her muse. The man with whom she’s built an empire valued in the billions, with a ‘B.’

So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head

Marriage is a legal and spiritual bond. Two people coming together, vowing to love, honor, cherish, ride or die, be each other’s Bonnie and Clyde. However its worded, the mutual understanding is that they will be true to and truthful with one another. When a spouse breaks those vows, whether by infidelity, irresponsibility, or any of a myriad of actions that put the other partner at risk, the pain runs deep. Some marriages weather the storms, others do not. The Carters have clearly chosen the former option for their union.

Lemonade contains two songs that made me sob. "Sandcastles," in which Jay and Bey are shown more intimately than ever before seen by the public and "All Night Long", the quintessential song to, “touch up and rub up and feel up, all night long,” on your love after you’ve made it through. The sweet taste of sugar as foil to the bitterness of the lemons.

If you try that shit again you gon' lose your wife. *Flings wedding band at camera...high-step struts off*

As a woman who has been married twice and betrayed by the man I thought was the love of my life, only to have him realize what he’d lost after I walked away, "Sandcastles" struck me so deeply and unexpectedly that I couldn’t contain myself and my emotions freely flowed from me. In the video we peek in on a fresh faced Beyoncé belting her raw pain, barefoot, sans glitz, glam, shiny leotard or her ubiquitous locks-blowing fan, cross legged on the floor of a simple room at a piano, alone, hurt, cut to her core by the man who promised vowed, before God and witnesses to love her, to hold her above all others, to protect her heart.

But we also see something else. We see the man, the husband, Jay Z, caressing her. Holding her. Gazing into her eyes, closed mouth, as she speaks her pain. Shares her words. her wounds, her thoughts, about him and his actions. He’s saying implicitly, “I’ve hurt you, but in the process I’ve also hurt myself. I’m about to lose my all, my everything, my wife. What have I done? And more importantly,what can I do to fix it?”

After belting out, with cracked, emotional-filled notes, “Pictures snatched out the frame, scratched out your name and your face,” she sees standing before her husband, in his brokenness. “I made you cry, when I walked away.” She asks him to show her his scars. Let her see that he’s hurt himself in this process. Then and only then will she return to him and try, again.

And what we see in "Sandcastles" is that he, Jay Z, that badass drug dealer turned rapper mogul, empresario, replacin’ women Jigga, Hov, shows his scars to his wife, to keep his wife. To save his marriage. To save his life.




In an epic Facebook post that everyone, but especially men, should read, Chicago poet and self-proclaimed "Jay Z head," Kwabena Foli speaks from his perspective, as a Black Man, on the impact of the moment Jay bears his soul, his scars, dare I say, his true manhood to Bey on screen for all to see,

Jay Z made pimp culture cool (not to mention the older men in my life who modeled it before me). Pimp culture can be summed up pretty much in this - i believe women need me and exist for me. Like, a woman’s value is only as much as you can use her for…

When [Beyoncé] looks at Jay Z and sings…

and your heart is broken

cuz I walked away

Show me your scars

and I won’t walk away

I know I promised that I couldn’t stay

but every promise don’t work out that way

and the way he appeared to breathe all that in as he laid at her feet had my mind blown. This is the creator of Big Pimpin! This is the guy with the hottest chick in the game wearing his chain! Now the dude I’m looking at is vulnerable - yet not embarrassed by it. He looks straight into the camera at one point like, “Yea. I got it all wrong. She doesn’t need or exist for me. I need and exist for her.

If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious

We will likely never know what happened between Jay and Bey, nor truthfully is it any of our business what happens between any husband and wife. Jay Z seems to love his wife. He supports her artistic expression. And he is her ride or die. Whatever autobiographical elements Bey intertwined into the universal narrative of betrayal, shared pain, and the possibility of forgiveness, Shawn Carter, her husband, Jay Z, is there, next to her, and the onscreen result is, in fact, glorious.

Photo: Screenshot/Parkwood Entertainment

Michelle Y. Talbert is a regular contributor to For Harriet. She is a recovering attorney, author and host of the Her Power Hustle Podcast, who helps women create powerful connections in business and love. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter. 

by Shahida Muhammad @ShahidaMuhammad

Ever since I hit my mid-twenties, there’s been a question echoing in my ears from family, friends, and acquaintances alike: “When are you getting married?” It’s gotten to the point that I want to pull out a personal calendar and show folks that there is no magic date when a Prince Charming will trot along on a horse, sweep me into his arms, and take me off to set a date for the big day.

And for the record, I’m okay with that. If only other folks could be too.

Now I know there are people in my life who don’t mean any harm by asking me this. My aunt lightly easing “So, have you met anyone?¨ into the conversation or my dad´s hints about the joys he looks forward to as a grandfather, aren't meant with malice. Yet, there is clear pressure placed on women if we reach our late twenties or thirties without a ring on our finger.
As novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie stated in her TedTalk speech that has become famous, thanks to its excerpt featured in Beyonce´s ¨Flawless¨:

Because I am female, I am expected to aspire to marriage; I am expected to make my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important. Now marriage can be a source of joy and love and mutual support, but why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage and we don't teach boys the same?

And it´s true. For every time I´m probed about my unwed status or deemed “late in the game,” there are men years older than me being applauded for staying single. Yes, there is an obvious biological timeline for childbirth for women, but this does not mean we should live life and pursue relationships as though we have a sell-by date. This social stigma placed on women is not only a unfair, but unhealthy, and I refuse to play into it.

Black women, in particular, are constantly bombarded with stereotypes and statistics that try to paint us as undesirable and tragically single, and as a community we often feed into these notions and perpetuate them.

Today the average American woman gets married at 27 and the average man at 29. That’s up from 23 for women and 26 for men in 1990 and 20 and 22, respectively, in 1960. Things have changed, but it seems our acceptance of this reality has yet to catch up.

To be clear, I am a woman who desires to be married and have children. Although I didn’t grow up fantasizing about my wedding day or meeting “the one” in college, it’s always something I knew I wanted. However, I’m also aware that there are some things I wish to have in order before I enter into marriage—both professionally and personally. This awareness is something I’m actually proud to have, and will, hopefully, keep me from desperately jumping into a lifelong commitment for all the wrong reasons or at the wrong time.

I’ve first made a commitment to my goals. The majority of marriages struggle most with financial issues, poor communication and/or infidelity, and it´s my personal belief that we should all work on being able to bring something to the table, while also seeking a sense of wholeness and striving to heal emotional wounds prior to seeking a lifelong partner.

Of course no one will walk into marriage perfect, and I know developing yourself emotionally and professionally does not guarantee a marriage free of issues, but just like any major step in life, why not do your best to be as prepared as possible? Given the high divorce rates in our society, it often perplexes me as to why it isn’t more encouraged. Although I´m open to allowing the right person to come into my life as I´m growing and building, I think everyone owes it to themselves to do some self-work and analysis beforehand.

Growing up with divorced parents and seeing many relationships end because of dysfunction, deceit, and unpreparedness has, no doubt, affected me. So while a friend may have been ready to jump the broom at 21, I would’ve been a long way from the maturity and openness to do so at that age. And it's okay. I have friends who married young, right after college, and well into their thirties. Everyone's journey is different, and it would be great if others understood that as well.
It's fine to wish for others to find their significant other, and I’m always down for a little girl talk, but what can be frustrating is the sense that if you don’t feed into the woe-is-me narrative of being unmarried, or exhibit the expected anxiety over who will pop-the-question, there’s something wrong with you.

I’ve now attended many wedding and social gatherings where the attention uncomfortably turns to the single women in the room. And at this point, I’ve learned to brush it off without becoming defensive. Instead of letting the questions of ¨why?¨and “when?” make me doubt myself, I feel empowered knowing that I constantly take honest looks within to know why I would like to be a wife and when I’ll be ready for that commitment.

I definitely want love and companionship, and I´m not going out of my way to stay single as a testament to my strength or as a badge of independence, nor will I see marriage as a seal of my personal value. I’m clear that my worth is determined by how I view myself, not whether I have a spouse by a certain age or any other title or possession that gets lost in shallow social conditioning.

With this, I’ve come to respond to inquiries of “when?” simply with ¨…when it´s my time.¨ For I know that despite how much anyone pressures or worries me over it, I’m ultimately the one who must gauge the appropriate moment to evaluate the right partner and make the step into married life. And that’s how it should be.

Shahida Muhammad was raised in Philadelphia and is currently based abroad in Colombia. Her writing tends to lie within the spaces of Black culture, identity, and womanhood. For more, follow @ShahidaMuhammad on Twitter.

by Kimberly Foster @KimberlyNFoster

Ciara won, and so did Russell Wilson. The newly affianced couple have been unapologetic about their connection since they went public with their relationship about a year ago.  They have not been shy about sharing their affections on social media. The cuteness of each new photo and video they post surpasses the one that precedes it.

She said Yes!!!

Since Day 1 I knew you were the one. No Greater feeling... #TrueLove @Ciara pic.twitter.com/qsufVC6snm

— Russell Wilson (@DangeRussWilson) March 11, 2016

Last week, Wilson announced that he and Ciara are engaged via an Instagram post wherein he exclaims  “she said yes” while Ciara lets out an excited squeal and holds up her engagement ring, reportedly valued at $2M.
Even if the public displays of the future Wilsons aren’t your thing, their joy is undeniable.

But it is no surprise that Ciara’s happiness has aroused the bitterness of Fuck Boy Nation, the league of unimpressive misogynists whose fragile masculinities are threatened by the happiness of women who fall outside of their narrow definition of ideal Black womanhood.
According to FBN, because Ciara is a single mother who has previously made unfortunate choices in love, she is forever underserving of a caring, attentive partner like Wilson. They’ve branded Ciara a hoe, despite having less than a handful of public relationships, and a hood rat, despite her being a successful multihypenate for more than a decade.

This logic makes complete sense to men who simply cannot come to terms with the fact they they are, in fact, the undesirables. They relate to Future--the man who slanders the mother of his child, pretends to be an addict, and spends little time with his son--and paint him the victim.

But they are completely divorced from reality. These men are not Russells. They’re not even Futures. They’re holding on to Ciara’s mythical “damage” because thy are incensed by seeing Ciara and women like her bounce back.

Wilson, who is a divorcee, is in no way settling. He has long had his eye on Ciara. And it’s not difficult to see why. She is a stunning beauty with her own career and money who has managed to stay above the fray despite Future’s inappropriate public comments on her sex life and parenting.  She did not even trash him for cheating on her while she was pregnant.
Frankly, Ciara dodged a massive bullet. She chose a man who turned out to be a terrible partner. It happens.  And now not only did she defy the odds, she’s living a real life fairy tale. She found a wealthy, incredibly good looking man who has embraced her child and whisks her away on exotic vacations.

Ciara’s experiencing a next level glow up, one I wish for every woman. There is literally no scenario in which a move from Future to Russell Wilson would not be considered an upgrade. The haters, however, will stay mad. Instead of applauding a 30 year old woman for her personal growth, they’ll wish she were still stuck.  So while FBN whines, we’re cheering her on.

Kimberly Foster is the founder and editor-in-chief of For Harriet. Email or Follow @KimberlyNFoster

by Ama McKinley

We met on a January night, when I was out with three girlfriends visiting from other cities. Twerking and drinking took its toll and led to empty stomachs, so at 3 a.m. we called ourselves an Uber. The driver was kind and the ride over was so pleasant that we asked him to dine with us. We’d picked up a new friend! Epic nights always begin like this.

His name was Drew.

He sat next to me at the restaurant and eventually my friends huddled into their own conversation, leaving him and me to fend for ourselves. Good and easy conversation kept us afloat freely, with stories of passport stamps to philosophies. He dropped us off at our hotel, and smoothly asked for my number.


The girls giggled. I blushed… and obliged.

The texting... the calls… the crush began. And then, our first date. What started off as brunch, where we both confessed our intentional avoidance of commitment, turned into 10 hours of non-stop fun, intriguing conversation, and the occasional 3rd chakra palpitating gaze. The date ended with an impressive kiss (we made out). I welcomed his tenacity.

Because after leaving a “good” job, moving to a new state and leaving behind people who love me, switching my spacious waterfront apartment for my aunt’s back bedroom/office, and getting a part-time holiday job at Nordstrom just to keep gas in my Honda, I’d ‘bout maximized my fears and delighted in an opportunity for some revelry.

February came, as did the yearning. I moved into a beautiful and spacious loft with a couple I’d met some weeks before. Drew was there on moving day, lugging the heaviest furniture as family looked on. He stayed over a few nights later, and at a point late in the evening he confessed that he loved me.

A record screeched and stopped in my head.

"What in the hell?! You don’t even know me. You can’t love me."

In a sea of dating apps and websites catered towards Black people, MELD emerges as a distinct option for black professionals.  The dating app is designed to bring like-minded singles together in a safe environment.

At some point, any straight Black woman who desires marriage is confronted with the supposed statistics that indicate that she is destined to live out her days insufficiently partnered. Although the dating pool can feel like a wasteland, the average Black woman's chances of finding a mate are not hopelessly low.

By Nayja A. Williams

Friend: noun, a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

by Veronica Agard

The Black experience in the United States has always been paradoxical in nature, as our historical memory knows that it has been one of constant struggle. However, in the face of the violence, poverty, trauma, systemic oppression and death, we have continued to thrive.

But after rolling to protests, having emotionally charged conversations with White “allies,” and witnessing how many folks on my newsfeed were more concerned about Cecil the Lion than Sandra Bland, I’ve been reminded that be Black in America is to be tired. As it’s been said time and time again, being Black in America is exhausting – we’re supposed to just play sports, make White America laugh or sing along to (apolitical) music, and stay silent while the heteropatriarchal White supremacist system kills us. All to diminish our spirit and potential.



Society currently presents the intersection of thriving and surviving as a challenge; an impossible aspiration that seems less and less obtainable when bombarded by the mainstream news cycle. Systematic hurdles and barriers exist at every turn and dictate how we should be living our lives and imply that we should not aspire for more. As the medical data confirms that Black folks and other people of color suffer from generational trauma in the forms of high blood pressure, heart disease, strokes, diabetes, and other preventable illnesses, we are forced to buy back into a medical system that has historically harmed us. The capitalist structure is not truly designed for wellness, in fact, it invested in perpetuating illness as a means of profit.

While there is hope in holistic medicine and campaigns encouraging us to get physically healthy, such as Black Girls Run! and FLOTUS Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move!, we cannot afford to solely focus on the body. We have to place an emphasis on the spirit and what (collective) joy looks like for us as individuals and as a people. In this (new) movement for Black liberation, there has to be an emphasis on celebrating and cultivation Black joy as well. Black liberation has a long history – from the liberation theology born in the Civil Rights Movement, to the radical teachings of Assata Shakur and the Black Liberation Army – and proves to be more relevant than ever in our movements. Whether you seek liberation in the church or through direct action, can we truly liberate ourselves as a people if we do not acknowledge and emphasize the role of sustaining ourselves in mind, body and spirit?

If we are going to have Black liberation, we must continue to strive for wholeness and wellness in the face of all the ills of the world. For me, Black joy is both the collective experiences and the personal triumphs of our people. Black joy looks different for everyone and can be found in a variety of forms; in simple acts of self-care, spending time with loved ones, or indulging yourself by working on those projects you’ve been putting off. Starting a journal, getting to know your creative side through a form of art, developing a circle of sisters, or taking yourself out on the town. Even if it’s just five minutes, making the time to sit down to (re)discover what brings you happiness is a liberatory act.

by Krislyn Domingue

by Kesiena Boom

For anyone who knows me — and quite a few people who don’t (thanks to this essay I recently published about the whole sorry mess) — it’s no secret that I have made some really awful decisions with regard to my love life. To be specific, it is widely known that for a significant period of time I dated and lusted after white women who could be described, quite frankly, as ‘the worst.’ I misguidedly and self-destructively sought acceptance and worth in the arms of whiteness, as though it could strengthen my sense of self and firmly place me in the box marked ‘validated.’ Luckily for me, there was light at the end of the ‘internalised racism/reverence of white girls’ tunnel and now I’m firmly of the belief that dating another Black woman is the best thing a queer Black girl can do for herself. I really believe that even if you happen to live around the most switched on and knowledgable white women in the world — who take the time to make themselves aware of the way that racism operates — and consistently and quietly tackle it in their everyday lives, you should still date a Black woman.

by Malaika Jabali

Between Meek Mill gushing over girlfriend Nicki Minaj during the BET Awards and Russell Wilson pronouncing that his relationship with Ciara is “anointed,” black love has been winning in the last few weeks. But rapper-turned-podcast-host Joe Budden is none too satisfied with these developments. When recapping the BET Awards on a recent podcast, Budden expressed disgust at Meek Mill’s loving interactions with Nicki throughout the awards show. While Budden’s female co-host admired the affectionate pair, Budden protested. Amid his color struck nonsense about how light skinned men don’t engage in similarly “sappy shit,” Budden said Meek’s behavior was “nasty” and that it contrasted Meek's typically hardcore lyrics.

by Andrea Tyler

Last fall, I went to Boston to participate in a think-tank conference designed to brainstorm creative solutions to the education gap. By the end of the week, each team was to make a final presentation to various stakeholders in the community. For the presentation, I was assigned to a sub-group that was tasked with creating a narrative arc. My sub-group leader was full of passion, but short on comprehension and ideas. I talked him through what it means to create a narrative and sketched out what I had been envisioning for the presentation while he took copious notes. When we reconvened as a full group, he recited my comments verbatim and they were met with praise from the rest of the cohort. It was decided that he would be one of the presenters because as my group leader stated, “No one could express those thoughts better” than he did. I half-heartedly waited for a clarifying statement along the lines of, “Actually, no. These are Andrea’s thoughts. She should do it,” but it never came. With an eye roll and a shrug of the shoulders, I let it go. That opportunity to speak clearly meant something to him, so he should do it.

by Bee Quammie

Dear J,

On June 21, 2014, life as we knew it shifted, ballooned, and took on new shape. Our daughter burst into the world accompanied by the summer solstice sunrise, bringing with her the gift of new identities for the two of us. Taking on the roles of mother and father, we were immediately thrust into on-the-job training with this beautiful brown baby as our only guide.

by Saaraa Bailey

While many see Father’s Day as just another token commercialized holiday, perhaps it’s true fault is that it lasts for only one day. So, in honor of this Father’s Day, I opt to celebrate the everyday influence of the men that made me.

by Hilary Christian


In a recent interview, singer Kelly Rowland spoke openly and honestly about the joys of motherhood and marriage. When speaking specifically about how she balances marriage and being a mother, Rowland said she prioritizes her husband over their baby since her husband was in her life first. According to Rowland, parenthood shouldn’t change who people are. She boldly stated, “My priority is my husband first. That’s how the baby got there.”

I didn’t think too much about her comments and was mostly just happy to see black love and marriage being celebrated. However not everyone was thrilled about her declaration as evidenced in the comments sections of a few sites that posted about the cover story. Some flat out disagreed with Rowland and others admonished her for seeming to not prioritize her child stating that she is “crazy” to put a man before her kids and may even be suffering from postpartum depression. The backlash seemed a bit over the top and made me wonder why exactly so many women seem to be uncomfortable with this concept.

The topic of prioritizing the husband over the children first made headlines ten years ago, when writer Ayelet Waldman wrote a New York Times essay declaring that she loved her husband more than she loved her children. Mothers around the world were shocked and Waldman even appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show to defend herself. Many could not understand how she could not prioritize her children since the general belief about motherhood is that the children always come first. One could even argue that since the parents make the choice to have children, it is their responsibility as parents to now make them a priority and raise them until adulthood.

Waldman disagreed, asserting that the relationship between a husband and wife should always be the focal point. Far too often, she believes, once children come into the picture, the marriage takes a backseat. Mothers coddle their children, putting all of their passion and attention into them, leaving nothing for their husbands to come home to at the end of the day. A recent study of more than 5000 unfaithful men found that the majority of men cheated after having children, with many pointing to the lack of attention from their wives as a reason.

Being a divorcee myself, I do not proclaim to be an expert on marriage. My marriage failed for reasons I’ll only discuss over a bottle of a glass of wine. In hindsight I acknowledge that there were times when I focused more attention on our child than on my husband. Although it was not a conscious decision, I would like to believe that had our relationship as husband and wife been stronger (and his penis hadn’t been so wayward), I wouldn’t have put my ex-husband second, and sometimes even last.

Waldman also suggested that some mothers begin to develop unhealthy emotional entanglements with their children which could be detrimental to the child’s emotional development. This occurs often between mothers and their sons, with the mothers treating their sons as they would a spouse. It is fact that children take up a great deal of time, energy, attention and love. But focusing all of your emotional passion on your children can cause you to neglect the very relationship that brought those children into existence.



The notion of a wife putting her husband first is not a new concept. Historically, the traditional role of the husband is the head of the household and provider for his family. In some cultures it is common practice for a woman to submit to her husband, placing his needs above all others, including her own. The onset of the feminist movement in the late 60’s began the shift in views about gender roles as women started to question the need to marry. While feminism has improved the trajectory of women professionally, and allowed us the right to choose what we do with our own bodies (which is still questionable), it seems to have had the opposite effect on male-female relationships and shifted the perceived role of women in marriage.

That is not to assert that feminism is to blame for the breakdown of the institution of marriage. In many ways feminism has helped to redefine traditional roles within the family with some husbands taking on more responsibilities at home. But there seems to be a warped I-can-do-bad-all-by-myself notion of independence that was born out of a misguided—albeit well intentioned—kind of feminism that perhaps did more harm than good. Yes, women are powerful, strong and just as capable as men. We can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan and so on. Women can do it all.

But do we really want to?

Admitting that we want and desire a committed relationship does not undermine our own independence and accomplishments as women. But being able to have a loving and supportive partner to share in those successes and accomplishments is even nicer.

Juxtaposed to feminism is this so-called “bae” culture, in which men are openly unfaithful, fathering several children by different women, side chicks act like main chicks, main chicks rarely become the wife, and baby mamas are the norm. It’s no wonder the idea of prioritizing a man before your child can seem blasphemous. Many of us have no idea what a healthy marriage looks like. Hearing Kelly Rowland, a successful, independent woman herself, talk passionately about placing her husband before her baby, may make some women uncomfortable because they can’t possibly relate to having the kind of relationship that even allows for that type of love.

So, should the marriage be a priority? I would say yes and there is evidence to support this idea. Your husband isn’t just some man or the latest boo in your life. He’s your partner, and deserves as much love and attention as he can stand. This doesn’t mean that you don’t love your children, it just means you see the importance of cherishing the man who you deemed worthy of being your partner for life. Plus without him, you wouldn’t have those little rugrats in the first place.

A happy and healthy marriage sets the foundation for a happy and healthy family. When children see their parents in a loving, committed relationship they’re given a model of how marriage is supposed to be. It also helps them to be less self-centered if they can realize, at a young age that the world and their parents do not revolve around them.

As with most things in life there should be a balance. Any parent will attest that raising children is hard work and most of us can’t afford nannies and housekeepers to help with the daily tasks of managing a household. However, when the husband and wife equally share in the childrearing and household chores, it frees up more time that can be put toward the relationship, long after the kids are asleep. For instance, Waldman claims her husband cooks, cleans and cares for their children at least 50 percent of the time which probably explains why she is still married, still happy and still stands by the statements she made over a decade ago

For years Essence Magazine has featured love stories of recently engaged and married couples in an effort to celebrate black love and I am here for it. We live in a culture that doesn’t seem to value marriage anymore. But celebrating marriage is a good thing and it doesn’t make us any less the independent feminists we see ourselves as. Hell, even Beyonce shed some of her Independent Woman image after she became Mrs. Carter. Now she sings love songs about their relationship and mutual love for surfboarding, all while being a devoted mother to little Blue Ivy.

There is no denying that the bond between a mother and her child is unbreakable and parents must invest as much as they can into loving, nurturing and providing for their children. But the investment you make in your marriage can also pay dividends. When the day finally comes for your children to leave the home—which is what they are supposed to do—the last thing any couple wants is to stare into the face of their beloved spouse and wonder why in the world they married each other in the first place.

Photo: Shutterstock

Hilary Christian is a freelance writer and fundraiser from Chicago who is a regular contributor to For Harriet, and her work has also been featured in Wild Sister Magazine and Corset Magazine. Check out her blog, follow her at @HilChristian and like her Facebook.

by Tamika D. Hawkins

I recently took my four-year-old daughter to see Cinderella – it was a live action, modern twist on a classic tale of love conquers all, mixed in with a dash of dreams do come true and brought together with the magical touch of a fairy godmother’s wand. Wouldn’t life be grand if this was all it took? If I could dream it and it would come. If I could wish it and it would appear. In my best Laurence Fishburne-inspired School Daze scream – WAKE UP.

The engine roared on the airplane. In the four years that I have been maintaining a bicoastal relationship with my lover, I have wracked up enough frequent flyer miles to have gold status and get upgraded to first class on most flights. Sitting in first class sipping a glass of red wine, I reflected on our last conversation before my departure. “Move to Seattle. Come and be with me,” my lover pleaded. I saw the tears well up in his eyes as we stood curbside at SeaTac airport. I knew that I wanted to be with him, but there was something that didn’t feel quite right.

by Marissa Nelson

by Nicole Moore for Huffington Post

On the recent cable broadcast of Book Of Negroes when Aminata Diallo says to her former slave owner, "I love that slave man... freely," she was not only claiming her love for her African husband, she was committing an act of resistance. Manifesting their love was a radical expression of freedom for slaves that even chains couldn't suppress. That kind of freedom was a threat to the entire institution of slavery and, seemingly, is one that still leaves Hollywood green-lighters mad shook. A century and a half after the abolishment of slavery and the idea of seeing a Black couple fully in the throws of love is still an intimidating premise, at least cinematically speaking. Even with an African-American First Lady and POTUS whose 2012 victory photo captured them in a sweet embrace and became one of the most retweeted images ever, for many -- if not most -- studio execs, there's still nothing iller on screen than the image of a Black man and a Black woman enjoying a long, deep kiss or God forbid, sweating out their edges doing the wild thing. The fear that a love story featuring two Black actors is not engaging, believable or desirable is very real and one that still defines the mindset of many studio execs, casting agents and producers. They may not own our bodies, but by controlling and limiting our narratives around love and sex, Hollywood, like so many of those pre-Civil War plantation owners, is actively extinguishing the freedom and pleasure of Black folk.

by Nancy Laws


I never expected to be the mother to three girls, and I have been told often how sorry people are for me, because it will be a long, arduous journey. There are moments when I have been terrified about having to raise three daughters — if you don't understand this yet, you will one day. What worries me most of all, though, is raising three lost girls.