Saved and SAINTified (55 page)

Catcalls and “woo-hoo’s”
ricocheted in the room.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if going into a trance and moved his hands around demonstratively “All
... you can fucking think about ... is how good she feels ... how good she fucking makes you feel. You know what I’m talking about! That feeling where you just finished, goddamn it!” More people laughed as he closed his eyes, showed an intense expression and balled his fist. “You just finished making love to her three times in a row, and then you’re on top of her again! What the fuck is your problem?!”

The audience was really animated now.

“You should weigh only eighty pounds if you could fuck her as much as you wanted.” More laughter came. “I know I would! People would accuse me of being a crackhead I’d get so damn thin.” He smiled as more laughter burst forward.

“And that’s the addiction, gentlemen
,” he said seriously, his tone calm as he exhaled. “It’s okay to be addicted to that one woman. I
am
. She knows it.” He smiled thoughtfully. “It’s a beautiful compulsion, a lovely obsession, a ravenous need that blossoms like a flower. You manifest ... and that’s what you want, to keep that spiritual connection tight and on lock.” The spotlight fell upon him, zooming in closer. He pointed out at the audience, scanning his finger from left to right. “All of you in here are in love with an idea, a principle, a theory. That all grew into a strong notion then graduated into the need to receive manifestation. It’s like your own conception and growth. Be on fire, for what is rightfully yours. The black woman is rightfully yours, gentlemen. She doesn’t belong to the black man, simply because he is black, too.

“Don’t believe that shit! No one belongs to anyone because of cultural similarity. That is one of the unbelievable tactics used to try to dissuade black women away from us, that amongst many others. I’ve discussed these illusions and maneuvers in great detail previously, but keep that in mind, please. She is just as much yours as she is his. If the thought of your white dick pushing deep inside some lovely black pussy disgusts your family, friend or whoever so much, tell that
mothafucka to turn around and not watch—because it’s about
to go
down
!”

Like one huge bristling carpet come to life, the crowd jumped to their feet, whistling and screaming.

“Most of those cats saying that shit have hidden collections of interracial porn, and I’m dead serious about this shit. I have to respect client confidentiality, but
trust
me, I have run into people like this, and many times they were actually obsessed with it. On one hand, they talked mass shit about black women, interracial dating period—then turned right around and jerked off all night to some black woman getting it good by a Hung-Aryan!” Saint laughed. “Oh, you don’t know what that is? Just think about it ... let it marinate for those of you that are kinda slow...”

A
musement burst forth in the audience. Saint smiled and wiped his brow.

“So now that we’ve discussed Barbie Dolls, the moon and interracial porn, let’s get down to business.”
More men burst out laughing. Saint snickered. “My God, I can’t stay on track to save my damn life! I hope you all are having a good time tonight, Houston!”

Loud whistle blowing
joined the stomping, clapping and joyful screams.

“Now, let’s get into your brain, men and I don’t mean fellacio, a blow job, or dome. I’m talking about what is happening in your mind right before the act, during and after. This is important stuff. You need to know how you operate and how she operates, but right this second, let’s look at us, as sexual beings from the beginning of attraction to our Queens, until we have the conquest.” He cleared his throat.

“Turning heads. Let’s think about that.” He put his hands in the air for emphasis, and looked over his shoulder. “What does it mean when we say a woman ‘turns our head’? It means that something about her physically and her pheromones, if we are close enough to her, caused us to do a double take. It is her smile, her hair, her perfume, her style and her body shape. Now, let’s look at body shape. Many of us are go-getters for the coca-cola bottle body type, right?”

He delighted as he watched heads nodding in approval.

“Stereotypically, though there is some truth, black and
Latina women are notorious for this physical shape. All races have women like this, but when we think of its prevalence, these two groups of women are usually what come to mind. There is science behind the hourglass.”

The men quieted, their interest clearly further piqued.

“Do you know that we are programmed, like the sands of time of the glass, to mentally and visually appreciate that shape, fellas? What happens is that there is a part in our brains called the reward center. When something we like arouses our senses, we notice it and want it and it gives us pleasure. This body type causes the most pleasure, from country to country, worldwide. When men are shown several human female silhouettes, the hourglass, nine times out of ten, was deemed the most attractive—yet we are called unnatural and disgusting due to our attraction.”

Saint laughed and shook his head as many men got to their feet and applauded.  “All of the evidence is right there! It’s not hard to ask five hundred men around the globe to pick the body type they like most on a woman! Why would they lie? The race was not seen—it was just an outline, with a generic hairstyle—yet overwhelmingly, time and time again, this is the one that was chosen!”

He pounded one hand in the palm of the other.

“And it stems back to what I’ve been saying since I first started talking to you cats about this shit! Primitive! It’s about reproduction and sexual attraction. Who the hell is going to give us healthy babies?! Who has the best genes? Who can give us the most babies?! It’s the woman with the wider birthing hips. I can’t make this shit up if I tried!”

Most of the men were now on their feet, screaming and whistling with raucous cheers.

“We have six times the amount of testosterone, on average, than our female counterpart. We are hard wired for this shit. Those hormones cause us to not only be more aggressive, but to seek a partner that meets our needs for procreation—whether we want to make babies or not, is not the point. Our wiring still tells us, this is what we need to find.  This is due to a lack of impulse control. This is why we are more likely than women to have problems with sexual addictions. That is directly tied into testosterone levels and many of the women that suffer from sexual addiction have higher testosterone levels than the average woman!

“Everything that we do, say, think, believe and desire has science interwoven into it, people. I believe in the unexplainable, but my background is science, it’s medicine—and when it comes to these issues,” he pointed at the crowd, “I need to know the answers and so do you. You need to understand why you do what you do and why your mate does what she does, race aside. When you then add race to it, you of course have a lot more to look at, examine and discuss. I don’t want any of you motherfuckers to be ignorant of these issues when you leave here tonight. I want you to understand who the hell you are. Your brain is even different from a woman’s! A lot of women libbers can’t stand to hear this shit, but it’s true! Look in the Journal of Medicine if you or your mate doesn’t believe me.

He paused, briefly closed his eyes and continued.

“At twenty-six weeks gestation, there is now solid proof that a male’s brain develops differently. When boys are newborns, they are actually more emotional, on average, than girls. They cry a lot more! Then society and parents, and all of that, kicks their asses and say boys don’t cry—and the shit shuts off. As the boy and girl mature, things also change due to the brain wiring. Girls then, once their hormones kick in stronger, become
more
emotional than us, on average. More wiring issues. Boys are more prone to having learning disabilities than girls—more wiring! They are more prone to being dyslexic. Men automatically set up hierarchy at work, in groups, and at home. Women prefer to cluster.”

“You can see it in our everyday lives. Go the mall and look at teenagers. The boys will walk more spaced apart, and there is always one guy walking slightly ahead of the others. Just watch next time! We act like packs of wolves! Women, on the other hand, they are all huddled together and snickering.” Saint made little feminine gestures and giggled, causing the audience to laugh loudly. “Just pay attention, men! We can’t run from this shit—this is who we are! Many studies have also come out regarding us as fathers.” He took a deep breath.

“Human children are needier than any other children in the animal kingdom. The average human child is not mentally, emotionally, physically or sexually mature until approximately age twenty-three. That shocks a hell of a lot of people, but it’s true. It takes that long for the brain to be at a state of post-childhood and the body as well, for a human being. Due to that, when we as men are not involved in our children’s lives, we’ve given them twenty-three years of no direction and a life-sentence to confusion.” He paused.

“Us men are more prone to rough housing with our children than mothers. Again, this ties into biology. It isn’t because we want them to get hurt.” Saint smiled. “It’s because we don’t want them to be afraid, okay?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and looked gravely out at the audience after the lights moved briefly from him to the men and then back to him. “We want our sons and daughters to feel safe, and like they can handle shit, even when it is scary! So tossing that baby in the air is old school. Our wives come running over, yelling at us, telling us to stop. We look at her and think, ‘Yeah, she’s right. That was stupid.’ But we never look at why so many of us do it in the first place! It’s programming! You don’t hear about mothers doing this; it is
us
! That is how we teach our children. We let our wives baby them and nurture them, and we nurture them as well, just differently. And the last reason for this is selfishness. This is how we make sure our genes survive. If our kids are dead, our legacy is gone.”

He was quiet and so was the audience, as if they were holding on with a kung-fu grip to Saint’s every word.

“We have to toughen up our boys and our girls, too. We don’t have lactating breasts! We don’t feed milk, we feed survival! We need our sons and daughters to go off and get married, and reproduce, to keep us alive—in
them
! In our grandkids, and our great grandkids! You may not be an Alpha—that comes naturally. Either you are the leader of the pack or you aren’t, but that doesn’t mean, you can’t hold your family down and be the best husband and father to your Queen and offspring. That’s what this is about, men! It’s about family!” Saint’s voice rumbled, booming off the walls.

“That’s all that matters! You, your Queen and your princes and princesses! Ain’t shit else in this goddamn world going to give you back what you can get from them! Without them, you are nothing! You were born by yourself, but that was not to be your state of existence forever! For the Christians here, you know she was made from your rib, your side. Your Queen is from your side! Not your back, not your foot—the damn side of you and your ribs are close to your heart! You can do NOTHING without a heart. She is the blood; she is your earth and your subsistence! Why do you think nature has been portrayed as a woman? Because she is variable, unpredictable, necessary, beautiful, frightening, and she gives life! Only women can give birth unless you are a damn seahorse!” he said fiercely.

“Y’all better wake the hell up. You better secure that family. Don’t get wrapped up in what is out in the street, what other people say about you and all of that bullshit. Your focus needs to be on finding your Queen if you haven’t already, maintaining and growing that relationship and doing the best of your ability to produce and raise healthy, happy, strong, intelligent children. It’s a full time job. I never understand how something could be so hard and beautiful at the same time, until I became a father.” His felt himself choke with emotion, so much that he had to pause and catch his breath.

“Nothing can prepare you for what you see and feel, You have to be one to know what I’m talking about, but there is nothing more rewarding, and I mean that sincerely. You, as Rainbeaus, have to be particularly on top of this. You will be raising multiracial children. That adds a whole new dynamic to an already complicated role. You have to be strong for them, men. Your children are going to have questions. They will hear comments and they will sometimes be confused. They never cared before that Mommy was darker than Daddy, until some bigot brought the shit to their damn attention.” He stomped the stage.

“I’m not half black, but even I, growing up, would hear stupid shit about my own racial identity, so I could only imagine what a half black child would endure, and I’m now seeing it with my very own sons. They have questions and they want answers and you better be able to say something, something
real
!” He threw that challenge out to the audience.

“You’re the head of that family, that household. You better be able to explain some shit, not get tongue tied and allow your children to feel horrible about themselves, in their own homes! Be honest with them. When they ask you what race they are, you tell them ‘the human race!’”

Applause rang out.

“Then, you break it down to them, in a way you know they can understand.”

Saint’s passion clung to each word. Nothing meant more to him than Xenia and his children—and his heart beat a little bit faster every time he spoke of them. He was there because Xenia had insisted and his passionate words were laid out, because of what he was currently enduring. Family was the most important thing in the world. He needed the Rainbeaus to know it, just as he did. It was the glue that held the earth together.