When we consider answering the question: “Why so many single African American women?” We have to be prepared to go deep into the soul of the black woman. This means that you have to be willing to understand we as the female gender thrive on the power of love. The problem is love and sex has been totally abused in meaning and behavior.
In writing the first part of this series, one of the readers put extra emphasis on sex being the major reason why there are so many single females today. I can join in agreeing that sexual activity plays a crucial part in this issue but I also feel it is important that it is understood why so much sexual activity.
First of all, large numbers of women have been sexually abused as children. And those who weren’t abused as children experienced some form of sexual abuse as adults. As a result, we have women who have gone through life internally damaged mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. The natural process of discernment and constructive reasoning has been compromised and lost. Intimacy has been identified as some form of retardation in choosing healthy involvement in relationships.
The saddest thing about this reality is that women are not aware they are not being their true and natural selves. If they had not been violated, they would think, feel, process information totally differently. You see, what happens is the real woman is buried deep inside of them and the abused woman decides what will be. This woman does not think logically in fact she does not think much at all. She responds to life because she knows her feelings do not matter, only the feelings for the man she will allow into her body.
An abused woman exists to meet the requirements of others. They are usually very successful because they have learned to wear many masks. You do not get her heart. She does not trust you. How can she trust you when the abusers are usually people she is supposed to trust, her father, neighbor, pastor, etc. She will let you do what you like to her. In fact abused women are some of your most freaky women. They learned how to please others in the most unnatural circumstances. That is one of the reasons why young girls turn on older males.
They grew up fast sexually and mentally in getting pleasures fulfilled even if they didn’t want to do it. Their fulfillment is in getting it done. Being sexually desired makes them feel special and their ability to deliver reinforces it.
Many abused women have children because they have learned this to be a safe way of being loved. Though the claim is a desire to be loved by a man, on the other hand deep down they do not feel it is possible. There is a tug of war going on that pushes them away from any possibilities of true intimacy.
Natural tendencies are developed early in life. People would be amazed how different they would be if they were brought up in a healthy environment. Molested women and men struggle daily wondering who he or she could have been if this experience had not happened to them. This makes them feel unworthy of true love. Yet, again, it is desired but practically hopeless.
Unconsciously, they exist with no conscious of knowing their true selves. Having sex because it was their first experience of intimacy and being desired. Relationships destroy them and the other person involved. Each departs with scares that the next person they meet must endure. The vicious cycle continues leaving people alienated from potential real love.
Sex---love, sex----love, the meaning is tarnished because no one knows what the other is saying.

What happens when a soldier falls in love with a molested angel?

“All right, soldiers, line up in two’s and follow me,” shouted Drill Sergeant Delap.

            We followed the short woman to our barracks.  Her uniform fit her like a glove and it was obvious that she didn’t take any mess.  Our over-packed duffle bags were slung awkwardly on our backs, while we carried our personal belongings in our arms.  By the time we made it to our new home we were all sweating and panting from the long walk.

Inside the long room, there were two bays, each with two rows of bunks.  The first instruction we were given was to make up the disheveled bed we would be using for the next eight weeks.  All of us were exhausted.  Some girls just burst out crying and started saying they wanted to go home.  We were subjected to over an hour of needless torture and mind games ranging from, how to correctly fold a shirt to how to clean the dust out from under our beds.

            Finally, the drill sergeant grew tired of running us in circles and ordered us to bed.  Once in my bunk, I fell asleep wishing for my momma.

But after that night, I was fine with the idea of being away from home.  It finally dawned on me how great this moment of my life was.  There wasn’t a soul here who knew anything about me.  I could be any person I wanted to be.  It was like going on stage and being a star.  I decided to be a person without a past.

I thought, “Let’s see who I am.”

Basic training was an experience I will never forget.  All forty females in the barracks were awakened at five o’clock in the morning, every morning.  We jumped out of bed and had to be in formation by six o’clock.  We marched everywhere we went, whether it was the chow hall or to the track to run laps.  We were like one big family in green.

Our drill sergeant was a petite, fair-skinned, white woman with blonde hair.  Drill Sergeant Delap was thin enough to be swept away by a breeze.  She looked like a Barbie doll in fatigues.  Her boots looked like they weighed more than she did.  But as small as she was, she could holler so loud you’d think she was ten feet tall and weighed 300 pounds.  You just had to respect her.  Her fatigues were starched perfectly, with straight creases down the front of her pants.  Her shirt was so well starched it appeared to be made out of cardboard.  The woman was perfectly presented as a representative of the United States Army.

            “Private Tillard, get your butt over here, front and center.”

            “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” I bellowed.

            “You will be responsible for this platoon.”

            “Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

            On the inside I was doing cartwheels but on the outside I was stoic and at attention.  I couldn’t believe I was being selected to be the platoon leader of our squad.  We had waited a whole week to find out who it would be.  I thought it was going to be Gladys Jackson because she passed every inspection with little effort.  Some of the girls rolled their eyes at me, while others congratulated me.

            “She must really like you.  I don’t see anything spectacular you did that I didn’t do,” said Martha.

            Martha was jealous about any and everything pertaining to everybody, so I wasn’t surprised when she made that comment.

            “I bet if you weren’t so jealous-hearted, you probably would’ve been selected to be a platoon leader.  Your funny ways would just hold us back.”

            “Jealous?  You think I’m jealous of you?  You’re just a lucky black token.”

            “Oh, so you’re prejudiced, too?  You’re a poor thing, you can’t think for yourself.  You’re not just jealous and prejudiced, you’re ignorant.”

            “You’re a black fool.  You have no right to talk to me like that.  I’m better than you no matter what you think,” said Martha.

            “How are you better?  Oh is it because you got money?  It sure ain’t because you’re cute with your out of shape butt.  You think you’re all that?  Or is it because you have white skin and you’ve been brainwashed to believe you’re better than other people?  Which is it?  It can’t surely be because you have a brain because you’re stupid,” I said.

            “You both need to stop,” Ann said.

            I sucked my teeth. “She started it.  She’s evil!”

            “Hold on now,” said Jean.

This was beginning to turn into a racial war.  The black females gathered near me, while the white females joined Martha.  All the other races of girls just looked on, afraid of the outcome.

            “This is crazy,” I said as I turned and walked away.

            “You said I was evil.  That was not fair.  It’s a lie,” Martha said following close behind me.

            “I don’t hate you, but I’m not going to let you put me down because of the color of my skin.”

            The room was very quiet as everybody moved to their areas to prepare for inspection.  As I was folding my socks and underclothes, I couldn’t help but wonder why people were so quick to attack each other.  Out of all the things we could do in life, why choose to be less than loving?

After our argument, we managed to tolerate each other long enough to get through basic training.  I wasn’t trying to be anyone’s best friend and that was good enough for me at the moment.  The biggest accomplishment for us had to be passing the physical fitness test.  We had to run two miles in a certain time frame or flunk basic training.  Most of us did well with the sit-ups, pushups, jumping jacks, and the other requirements, but the track was another story.

The Alabama sun beamed down on us like it was trying to fry us up for afternoon chow.

            “I can’t make it,” cried Tina as she began to throw up toward the end of the run.

             I ran out on the track and hollered at her. “You better make it!  You only got a few more steps and you will make it, throw up and all!”

Tina dragged herself to the finish line, barely making her time.

Girls were falling out all over the track.  I helped as many as I could to cool their faces down and encouraged them to stand up and keep moving, even if they had to walk the rest of the way.  Though many of them came in soaking wet with sweat and vomit on their clothes, all of us passed our PT test.

            The next day we had to go through the gas chamber.  As we lined up outside the shack filled with tear gas, we stood quietly waiting our turns.  The first set of ten went in and came out crying and gasping for air and I thought I wasn’t going to make it because I do not like being closed in.

When I started my writing ministry where I reach out to victims of all forms of abuse, people insisted my work had to get to Oprah Winfrey.  At first, I thought they were right; Oprah can awaken the world to my message from God.  Trusting this possibility on two occasions I sent several samples of my work to her studio relating to molestation.  Never did I get a response and never did I see it as a disappointment because God told me personally, He does not need Oprah to handle His business.

Here recently after observing Hillary Clinton, a rich and very powerful woman with a lot of influence, her strong willed determination to be President of the United States made me think about Oprah.  Both of these women are financially rich and very influential.  What is their real purpose in life?  What statement are they making to the world about women and the true meaning of life?  And most importantly what god do they serve?

It became very apparent to me they had nothing to do with God Jesus represents; yet I hear both women using the term God on various occasions.  What president hasn’t?  My question is what god are they talking about?  And why do they portray this god to be the god for everybody?  My understanding of God is all I have to go by and it just does not sound like the same God I studied in my Bible.  If anything it sounds like the god of this earth; the god of this earth that is never satisfied and continues to seek more power and influence over people.  This god of the earth is made visible through money and it survives placing love at the bottom of the list of manifestation. 

I am not into New Age truths that deal with getting more stuff and prestige.  And I am not into not trusting God with my life and destiny.  The new thing sweeping across the world is controlling your thoughts and directing your energy field to control your life and destiny.  My writing is based on the teachings of Jesus Christ therefore it is of great certainty that they will not show up on the Oprah Winfrey Show.  Now if I mentioned a Universal God that promotes getting more stuff and increase your power for success, I would stand a better chance.  So, I am honored to follow the God I know and trust. 

For sure in this world today are rich people just looking at their money and not seeing God.  They give God credit but they don’t follow His Word.  I do not have anything against these two powerful and prestigious women.  My concern is what are they doing with their power and why do they think the world gave them this power?  For sure if God gave them this power, we would already be beginning the separation of the Christ and Anti-Christ establishment.  For sure this world will pass away and in the end there will be many who wished they would have considered that God shall not be mocked.