Saved and SAINTified (54 page)

Boisterous laughter exploded.
Saint gave a lopsided smile. “I do this shit all the time. I will be talking about one thing and then jump somewhere else but I want to make a point here. How do you think she feels when she realizes that a black doll has to be made to join the other white dolls of a collection, versus the other way around? Have you ever thought about that? Those of you that have little girls, that have daughters that are biracial and multiracial, have you thought about how they go into the toy department, and instead of there being five black Barbie dolls from the same line—they have these categories now.”

Saint
rolled his eyes as more people in the audience laughed. He’d been looking at dolls online and in the stores, collecting things for his precious Princess along the way.

“Yeah, they have like, surf Barbie and all this other shit, and most of them are white, and then you’ll
see one or two black ones thrown in for good measure and prosperity. Why isn’t that reversed or better yet, equal? Why aren’t there many Asian Barbie dolls and Hispanic Barbie dolls? Those dolls exist, but they are oftentimes collector items. There are so goddamn few of them, they are actually collector models! Crazy! You know what’s fucked up?!” Saint pointed out at the audience. “Some of these dolls are being made in China and Taiwan! The plastic bitches look nothing like the people slavin’ around, making them!” He shook his head.

“Then the black mother walks her ass in the store, with her hard earned money, and is scrambling around trying to find her baby girl a damn toy for her birthday or Christmas, one that hopefully
this
time, looks at least a little like her daughter.  Now, I’ve gotten off track a bit, but that explains how this stuff starts because your Black Queen, men, started off just like that! She is
that
little girl, looking for herself, like it’s a damn scavenger hunt, on the toy shelves, under the damn Christmas tree, at her birthday party, and then in her teens and adulthood, in the fucking music videos, television shows, online and in magazines—the magazines filled with unrealistic sexual imagery! Photoshopped bullshit and eating disorder galleries galore! Then later, the toy shelf becomes your heart! She wants to see if she lives in you.”

Thunderous applause exploded.

“That is how she began, before your blue paint came and changed her—she was a little girl that grew into a woman. How different would she be if she saw herself everywhere and the white woman saw herself infrequently?! Imagine how this country would be, if just for one month, that experience flipped! I think there’d be a bit more understanding. In my practice as a sex therapist, I saw black women like this. They were frigid, or putting on excessive weight, subconsciously trying to make themselves unappealing because they already believed they were ugly and not worth shit. It’s hard for you and me to completely understand that because when we look at them, that’s not what we see. We see ... the epitome ... of Godiva sexiness.”

Loud applause broke out
, as well as some bawdy comments from the crowd.

“But none of that shit matters if the object of your affection doesn’t believe it. Now look, this isn’t true of all black women. We can’t put an entire group of people into one area and call it a day
. But it is true in many cases, and this is why you need to be aware of this epidemic. Because that’s what it is—a damn epidemic. When you brainwash one of the most perfectly designed creatures on the planet into believing she is hideous, well,” Saint clapped his hands, “job well done, emotional and spiritual pimps. Then, when someone like you or me wants to date these women, all hell breaks loose.” He grinned. “And the way we fix this is to blend with them, just like the paint.” He bit his bottom lip. “Blend with them mentally. A woman feels beautiful when you listen to her.”

“When you give her sincere compliments, treat her with respect, show her that you don’t just want to fuck her, but genuinely get to know her. Don’t give her the consolation prize, the hastily made black version of the real McCoy, and then expect her to fall into your lap. She never wants to suspect that you are with her because the white Barbies were all sold out
...” Saint looked down at the floor, and minced his words. “No one wants to feel like second best. Just as you don’t want to believe she is with you because she thinks white men will wine and dine her more. You want to believe she is with you because of genuine interest and likeability.

“And all of this goes back, men, to that spiritual connection. Once it is established, you can manifest the future you and she agreed upon together.
That is, once you get past the insecurities, the caution signs, the nay-sayers, and you just follow your heart ... and your cock.”

The audience detonated in handclapping and merriment.

“It’s true. Tell the fucking truth.” Saint walked back to the podium and took a sip of his water. “It shouldn’t be your only motivation, but it damn sure is one of them. ‘Look Miss, I think you’re sexy, I want to fuck you. I want to get to know you as well, and this won’t be a one night stand, but I would love to stick my dick in your pussy as soon as possible. We can even get something to eat first but let’s make it fast.’ You’d love to be able to say that shit!”

Saint
grinned wickedly as he continued to work the stage and the audience.

“No, seriously,
I’m just joking. You know better, but that is what we’re thinking. And there is nothing wrong with thinking that, but you just make sure you treat her with respect, that you are not there to just fuck. That’s what this journey is all about—you finding your Queen, not just some black pussy.” Saint sucked his bottom lip. “Pussy ... wet, juicy, black pussy ... tight, welcoming, grippin’ your cock so hard ... sweet black pussy ... goddamn!” He jumped up and down, shaking his fist in the air.

Sporadic
whistling and loud applause shot through the room.

“The best shit on the planet
,” Saint said under his breath as he adjusted his microphone, causing uproar in laughter. “It is, men. The shit is like Snapple—the pussy snaps back!”

Laughter came again
, so hard, he couldn’t hear himself at first.

“The first time I had some, I got turned out.
I did. That leads me to addictions. I’m not talking about just sexual addictions; I’m talking about addictions to our own egos and dicks. I never was a drug addict. Have I smoked weed? Hell, yes. Do I drink? Like my life depended on the shit.”

Some men in the audience moved around, cheering and laughing.

“But I’m not addicted to cigars, weed or alcohol. If someone told me that I could never have another cigar or drink again, I’d be sad, but I’d make it and be okay. If you came to me and told me I could never make love to my wife again, I’d go fucking insane, real talk,” he said to rows of men clapping enthusiastically, from the start to the end of the auditorium.

“And I’m serious. I’d lose my goddamn mind
... because I’m addicted to her pussy. I’m addicted to her spirit. I’m addicted to who she is. And if by some tragedy, my soulmate was gone, that desire to fuck would still be in me—though it would never be as intense and satisfying as it is with her. This I know to be a fact, but I’d still want to fuck! Why? Because I’m a man with an aggressive sex drive and I love ... black ... women. I can’t
not
have them in my life. I need to see them, speak to them—though I only need
one,
and thank God I found her. Yet they are what drives me ... and the same for you or you wouldn’t be here! Your addiction brought you here!” Saint pointed to the floor as he yelled his words into the mic. “You’re in this room with me; you paid for a ticket to hear me and the rest of these respectable men behind me speak, because of your addiction to the black woman’s essence!

“
Social media networks have only made it worse! Now, there are all these damn groups you can join—black women and white men, all sorts of different names. Some are just online bootycalls with no substance, but some are a true reflection and collection of what I’m professing. Separate the silliness from the reality, men. Your bootycall days are over, do you understand me? I said your booty calls are over! It’s time to jump into your addiction with both feet and we don’t want a cure! We want to drown in this shit, and get high off the black woman’s love, every goddamn day!”

Deafening applause ran throughout the theater.

“Now, let me explain something to you that some of you aren’t going to like. Sex with a black woman versus a white woman, the vibration is different for many of us. That’s not the part you’ll take offense to. The part you may take offense to is the fact that we are wired to be on the winning end of this, so we must know how to fuck properly, to compensate for our lower vibration. Now let me explain what I’m saying. When you mate with a person of the same race as you, there is a different vibration from a spiritual standpoint, but you still have a similar frequency. You don’t have to work so hard for the spiritual connection, because all cultures have a spiritual identity. It is not all the same spiritual identity, but it is in the same fabric, cut from the same cloth; thus, it is not such a journey to arrive there. By arrive, I am not talking about your climax and her orgasm. I’m talking about your body’s natural course. It takes a journey and our spirits have a check list. When you make love to a black woman, Rainbeaus, it shocks your system. It doesn’t matter if it is the first black woman you’ve ever fucked, or the hundredth. As I’ve stated, she is the oldest, her vibration is deeper because we all come and cum from her. Do you understand me?”

Saint saw the recognition on many men’s faces—like when an idea strikes home and starts to make sense
. He loved moments like these. They fueled his motivation, his desire to make a difference.

“So, she christens us. Something very powerful happens, something that you don’t even fully understand. You’ve become one with
Mother Earth ... and that shit is addictive. You are not as close to earth. Melanin, in higher concentrations, is closer to earth—even the color of it. We are all in earth tones. The higher we get to the sky, the lighter things become—sun, clouds, stars and moon.

Dark skies are illusions, as long as the sun is still present, which we know it is.
A black hole is an optical illusion but that’s another discussion for another day. But anyway, please don’t think I’m accusing you of being inferior. What I am saying is that we
are
different and we depend upon one another, but there is a variance and we can’t deny this. I don’t believe in sugar coatin’ shit. We were drawn from the Earth. Anything outside of that is not the original prototype. Again, this is not inferiority, it is just altered, and since you
are
different, acclimation is challenged. This is basic science, people!” His eyebrows furrowed as he delved deeper into his topic.

“People say the shit I say is controversial. Bullshit! These
are basic scientific principles and human beings are programmed to do what we lean toward instinctually, and that is to fuck our own kind! But then there are these exceptions. ... Like all of you in here, a bunch of fucking freaks.”

This time laughter broke out as if it was one large locker room.

“You are strange, but right! I am strange, but right! Since I was a little boy, I’ve had a thing for black chicks! Before I even knew what pubic hair was or looked like, I had sexual fantasies about little black girls! It is in me!” He pointed to his chest. “It only got worse as each year passed and I never made apologies for the shit! And you better not, either! Your family doesn’t like what you’re doing?
Fuck
them! They don’t have to live your life.”

Several men jumped to their feet and applauded.

“Don’t you dare sit around being unhappy and living for
them
. Your best friend thinks you’re disgusting, fuck him, too! You’ll get a new best friend, who doesn’t care about the color of your woman’s skin—he just wants you to be happy. People at your job acting funny when you bring your black girlfriend around, fuck them, too! Mind their fuckin’ business! Get back to your vibration! Fuck what the world says. My wife is the earth and the sea—she is ground level to the vibration. I’m her sun and her son – meaning, I come from her, from
her
people! A good example is Xerox. We are all pieces of paper, but there is only one original! When you go back to her, you are deviating from the norm, and that is what makes every man in here a freak of nature. But are you really a freak of nature?” Saint’s voice quieted.

“It’s a natural progression you are following because
some of us gravitate toward our origins, even when they initially
feel
unnatural. Some of us are in tune to our vibration ... that’s you!”

Applause rang out.

“When you grab hold to that vibration, your words, your seed, your semen, your spirit, your chakras, they manifest in her! You are gaining, you are winning! Don’t let these racists stop you from getting what you need, men! What do you want?! Huh?! You want to fuck the shit out ’er, because it feels good ... to your goddamn soul!” Saint hissed through clenched teeth. “You disappear, you go into your own tiny world, I know I fucking do! All you can think is, ‘Oh my God this is some good pussy! Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!
More
pussy please!’”