Potential husbands come in other colors, of course, but studies show that black women, at least to this point, have been much less open to the possibilities of interracial marriage than black men.
In other words, in places like Prince George’s and DeKalb there is a substantial population of successful, independent black women who have never been married and never will be. Add them to the black women who are separated or divorced, and you’ve identified a large and growing segment of Mainstream black America. There is, so far, no truly analogous group among whites or other minorities; numbers of female SALAs (single adults living alone) are increasing throughout society, but nowhere has the rise been nearly as rapid or as significant as among African Americans. According to the Census Bureau, 21 percent of adult white women have never been married. Among adult black women, the figure is a stunning 42 percent. 2
These unattached women are giving a new twist to an old and disputed idea, which is that black America is essentially a matriarchy. The meta-narrative goes something like this: From the earliest days of slavery, black men were prized and of course exploited, but also feared and envied. In the imagination of white society, black men were imputed to have superhuman strength and sexual prowess, which was threatening to white men at the most primal level. Black men were thus subjected to the most sadistic tortures. After emancipation, the black man still had to be kept down; when the uppity black fighter Jack Johnson—who had the audacity to date white women publicly—defeated the white former heavyweight champion Jim Jeffries on July 4, 1910, in what had been billed as the “Fight of the Century,” angry whites rioted in cities across the nation.
The black woman, though, was less of a threat. Given more space in American society, she became the mainstay of the black family—she kept a steady job, she went to church, shesupported her man when the world was too much for him to bear, she forgave him when he strayed, she provided stability and continuity, she raised the children, she subjugated her own needs to those of her man and her family. She was the rock, the anchor, the queen.
But what is an anchor without a ship? To me, this is one of the most interesting developments in the evolution of Mainstream black America: Millions of women are on their own, improvising their way through life. Just in my circle of friends, I know single black women who have decided to have children but not get married, adopt children on their own, or take in the children of relatives who, for whatever reason, are unable to care for them. I also know black women who don’t want children but wouldn’t mind a husband. I know black women who use their disposable income to travel constantly and in great style, with Paris being a popular destination; Josephine Baker was a powerful role model.
Almost every accomplished, Mainstream, single black woman I know is involved in some kind of volunteer project whose aim is to uplift the Abandoned—reading to schoolchildren, mentoring teenage girls, helping victims of domestic violence. Almost every one belongs to at least one book club. Almost all date black men, when a suitable black man presents himself, but almost none date white men. None seems “desperate to find a man,” and most seem quite happy—with good jobs, high incomes, and no children or spouse to worry about, they tend to be financially savvy and secure. Most own their homes. Almost all the single black women of my acquaintance go to church regularly, but few see any contradiction between spending the morning in a pew singing hymns and the evening curled up with one of Zane’s X-rated tomes.
The uncertain marriage prospects of educated, single black women are usually presented as some sort of tragedy, but that’s not the impression I get. I see instead a fascinating process of self-invention, and I think I might be seeing
In other words, in places like Prince George’s and DeKalb there is a substantial population of successful, independent black women who have never been married and never will be. Add them to the black women who are separated or divorced, and you’ve identified a large and growing segment of Mainstream black America. There is, so far, no truly analogous group among whites or other minorities; numbers of female SALAs (single adults living alone) are increasing throughout society, but nowhere has the rise been nearly as rapid or as significant as among African Americans. According to the Census Bureau, 21 percent of adult white women have never been married. Among adult black women, the figure is a stunning 42 percent. 2
These unattached women are giving a new twist to an old and disputed idea, which is that black America is essentially a matriarchy. The meta-narrative goes something like this: From the earliest days of slavery, black men were prized and of course exploited, but also feared and envied. In the imagination of white society, black men were imputed to have superhuman strength and sexual prowess, which was threatening to white men at the most primal level. Black men were thus subjected to the most sadistic tortures. After emancipation, the black man still had to be kept down; when the uppity black fighter Jack Johnson—who had the audacity to date white women publicly—defeated the white former heavyweight champion Jim Jeffries on July 4, 1910, in what had been billed as the “Fight of the Century,” angry whites rioted in cities across the nation.
The black woman, though, was less of a threat. Given more space in American society, she became the mainstay of the black family—she kept a steady job, she went to church, shesupported her man when the world was too much for him to bear, she forgave him when he strayed, she provided stability and continuity, she raised the children, she subjugated her own needs to those of her man and her family. She was the rock, the anchor, the queen.
But what is an anchor without a ship? To me, this is one of the most interesting developments in the evolution of Mainstream black America: Millions of women are on their own, improvising their way through life. Just in my circle of friends, I know single black women who have decided to have children but not get married, adopt children on their own, or take in the children of relatives who, for whatever reason, are unable to care for them. I also know black women who don’t want children but wouldn’t mind a husband. I know black women who use their disposable income to travel constantly and in great style, with Paris being a popular destination; Josephine Baker was a powerful role model.
Almost every accomplished, Mainstream, single black woman I know is involved in some kind of volunteer project whose aim is to uplift the Abandoned—reading to schoolchildren, mentoring teenage girls, helping victims of domestic violence. Almost every one belongs to at least one book club. Almost all date black men, when a suitable black man presents himself, but almost none date white men. None seems “desperate to find a man,” and most seem quite happy—with good jobs, high incomes, and no children or spouse to worry about, they tend to be financially savvy and secure. Most own their homes. Almost all the single black women of my acquaintance go to church regularly, but few see any contradiction between spending the morning in a pew singing hymns and the evening curled up with one of Zane’s X-rated tomes.
The uncertain marriage prospects of educated, single black women are usually presented as some sort of tragedy, but that’s not the impression I get. I see instead a fascinating process of self-invention, and I think I might be seeing
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