Fatherhood goals: Should black, young men stand to greet black women?
Seeing both sides of the Queen Latifah versus Lil Wayne debate
I jogged up the steps of the bus and sat down in the first open seat. With a book in my hand, per usual, I didn’t pay much attention to the people sitting around me and immediately dove into a chapter. I’m still not sure what made me finally look up, but I happened to glance over at a man about my age who was cute as hell. About 6’3, basketball player’s physique, non-flashy earrings, full lips, medium brown skin and a fresh haircut. My first thought, “Man, he’s easy on my eyes.”
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Then, I did a double take because he made eye contact. I already KNEW him. I’d even kissed him a few times. This was my first official boyfriend in an older man’s body.
I smiled super wide and said his name.
He rolled his eyes.
“I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to stop acting like you didn’t know who I was,” he said snippily. “Acting brand new.”
My smile dropped. Some things never changed. He made a couple of snarky comments about how I dumped him even though he claimed I knew he liked me. I sat there sorta stunned. It had been years since we’d seen each other. If all of this was on his mind, why not get it out then?
In his mind, we broke up because he didn’t return a page. (Yes, I’m telling my age.) In all fairness, his reason for thinking we broke up over a pager return call wasn’t totally inaccurate.
In my mind though, we’d broken up way before that and any excuse would’ve done. The irony is I wanted to break up with him for the same reason he was complaining about me on this bus: lack of manners and being oblivious.
Hey young world, young world (an unrelated salute to Slick Rick)
When I was 16, I’d invited this then-boyfriend over to watch a movie. We were sitting on the loveseat in my living room, and my father walked in the door. My father, taken aback that a boy was in the house who wasn’t my brother’s friend or one of the familiar (and goofy) neighborhood boys I’d sit on the porch and chat with, looked from me to him. My father wasn’t the type to act like Martin Lawrence or Will Smith in “Bad Boys II” when they met Reggie, but he wasn’t a pushover either.
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I could see a million thoughts running through his mind, but he was still his usual laid-back self. My father waved at the 17-year-old boy on my couch and said, “Hello.”
And my then-boyfriend gave him a head nod and said, “Hey.”
I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and thought, “This fool needs to go home now.”
To not get up and shake my father’s hand blew me completely. It was one of those things that my parents taught me to do at an early age. No matter how many billion co-workers they introduced me to or church members or random people on the street, I always stood up, smiled, shook a hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Being taught to do that as a child is why I still do it as an adult. I just met a new hire for one of my clients a couple of days ago, and the response was the same even behind a Dialpad screen.
For a millisecond though, after my father hung up his coat and walked into the dining room, I considered the idea that I was dating a boy who was living with his uncle. As far as I knew, neither his mother nor his father were around. I’d only seen his uncle while I was visiting my high school friend who lived next door to him. (She is the reason we met.) But had his uncle never told him to stand up and shake a man’s hand?
Then my older brother (seven years apart) walked in the door and also paused when he saw this guy sitting on the couch. And my then-boyfriend immediately said my brother’s name and smiled as wide as a bridge. My brother, looking completely confused about why this boy knew his name, nodded at him and said, “Hey, what’s up? How ya doin?”
I watched those two exchanges between this guy and the two most prominent men in my life, and I thought, “I can’t see myself dating a man who respects my brother more than he respects my father. We’re done.”
Latifah's had it up to here
I thought about that bus interaction recently while reading the comments from people both irate and indifferent about Lil Wayne’s sons not standing up to greet the legendary Queen Latifah. Mind you, Lil Wayne himself stood up to talk to her. But Dana Owens — the “queen” some black folks were freaking out about when the news released about “the queen died” in 2022 — stopped to shake all of his children’s hands while they stayed seated.
I shrugged off the outrage at first. Blaming Lil Wayne for the Emmett Till rap? Absolutely 100%. Blaming him for caping for Donald Trump? My gawd, yes! But Lil Wayne is also the guy who gave football champion Ryan Clark the COVID-19 dap greeting, changed his mind, put his drink down and came back to greet him again. He was super polite to comedian Mo’Nique when she had a talk show. I pay attention to people’s mannerisms when I complete interviews and when I watch third-party interviews. As oblivious to history and politics as Lil Wayne is, I’ve never seen any example of him being unfriendly. He’s downright vocal about a sizable amount of legends, especially elder legends.
I would guess his kids would pick up on that too. However, judging from the looks of his kids, they are way too young to even understand the significance of the woman standing in front of them. To those kids, Queen Latifah is just “dad’s friend.” I knew that feeling. I was beyond tired of being introduced to random people I would never memorize the names of at both of my parents’ jobs, so I can only imagine what it’s like to be a celebrity’s kid.
Believe me when I say being a woman is great, you see
But there was one comment on Instagram that made me grind my teeth: “Y’all know she ain’t a real queen right?!?” Coming from a black man ridiculing people for suggesting young, black boys should stand up to greet a black woman — celebrity or not — bothered me as much as my ex not standing to greet my father. It’s not about the status. It’s about being respectful. And both mothers and fathers should be teaching their kids to stand out of respect for greeting any elder.