In the middle of Black History Month, we mark the end of Singles Awareness Season.  The entire season I am referring to starts with Thanksgiving and ends on Valentine’s Day.  The time spent in between those two holidays begets a more conscious focus on family and loved ones.  When you are single, you may enjoy spending time with loved ones yet still long to have that special someone just for you.

I have a friend who created a dating business card titled, “Date My Friend.”  It is a photo of her along with her interests and contact information.  This is where the court of public opinion may come in to assert itself with mockery and judgment. Even though some people do not have the love that they desire in their own life, they would nonetheless label her as “thirsty.”  But to quote psychologist and professor Dr. Raquel Martin, “You are over here calling someone thirsty and you’re in a drought.”  Because we care too much about what others think (all the while pretending that we don’t), we put too much stock in the appearance of a thing instead of the need underneath the surface.  

For this reason, I would like to submit my recommendation to the Black delegation that we retire the adjective ‘thirsty’ from the cultural lexicon. Keep your ‘thirst traps,’ if that’s your thing. But let’s take away the languaging surrounding making fun of someone’s decisions as a form of entertainment. There’s always a story and a truth underneath the surface of the judgment.

Back in my single days, I was in a relationship that needed to end. Nonetheless, it persisted.  He told me he didn’t really want to be in a relationship but, at the same time, did not want me to be with anyone else.  I kept quoting the famous line from Brokeback Mountain to myself: “I wish I knew how to quit you!”  We both had a hard time moving on from the hopes we had had for the relationship.  He had wanted to date me for years and when it finally happened, he realized he was more fascinated with the idea of getting me than actually being with me. On my end, I was so excited to be finally dating again, I wasn’t ready to go back to the dateless life. 

So, we found ourselves at an impasse. And unfortunately, it took me reaching a state of misery to end things.  Why did I need to suffer before I took action?  If I knew the right thing to do, why did I take so long to do it?  Was I just being thirsty aka desperate?   Or is there more to the story?  Knowing that grief shows up as the response to unfulfilled hopes and dreams tells me that being thirsty barely scratches the surface of my inaction.  I know that if we are not mindful in the midst of grieving, we will make life decisions in consideration of pain instead of core values. 

In writing about ceasing to use the word ‘thirsty’ to describe someone, thoughts keep popping up like, “What’s the big deal?  What if their behavior “is giving” desperation?”  To that I say, there is a difference between observation and judgment. Black History Month provides the perfect opportunity to reflect on what it means to be a united community.   We need to be consciously aware of how and when our actions and comments play a role in subtly eroding the very thing we claim to value.  My proposal to end calling people thirsty is embedded in the need for us to show up for one another in the macro, the micro, in spirit and in truth.

Black History Month is replete with historical lessons.  How about we add to that the reassessment of what we permit within the culture?  How we speak of one another is a part of that. I found the following piece online (the original author seems to be unknown.)  In this abbreviated form of ‘You Mock What You Don’t Understand,’ we get the opportunity to look deeper into ourselves and nurture our own sense of empathy for the sake of our unified goal.

Sometimes, I just sit and wonder:

Why do people mock those who are already carrying invisible battles?

Why laugh at someone struggling to breathe through life’s storms — someone who still shows up every day, wearing courage like makeup?

They mock the girl who doesn’t smile often, not knowing she’s grieving a family she lost too soon.

They mock — blindly, loudly — because it’s easier to laugh at pain than to sit with it.

Mockery is one of the cruelest forms of silence-breaking — it turns a person’s pain into entertainment.

And what’s worse is that people don’t even realize the damage they cause.

A single cruel word, one mocking laugh, can break the last piece of hope someone is holding onto.

It’s easy to mock when it’s not your story, not your struggle, not your shame.

But life has a way of spinning the table.

Tomorrow, you might sit in the very storm you once laughed at.

The same tears you laughed at may one day live behind your own smile.

When that day comes, you will understand that the world doesn’t need more people who laugh at weakness — it needs people strong enough to love without judgment.

So, before you mock, pause and ask yourself:

“What if it was me?”

Because the truth is, we never know what a person is carrying behind their quiet eyes.

So, what do you say, Black folks?  How about this Black History Month, we focus on the little things we can do to support, respect, and love one another deeply?   And if you are single and searching, I wish you well in these streets.  And if you are looking for fresh new avenues to get yourself out there, give me a few of your dating business cards.