Tia: “Hey, Mister Jimmy.”

Mister Jimmy: “How is it goin,’ Tia?”

Tia: “You know, Mister Jimmy, you told me how it was gonna be when I got this promotion.”

Mister Jimmy: “I told you you’d never be half the bitch that little twerp is.”

Tia: “Oh, you know that’s right! He on vacation now, which is well and good, but he has spent the last two weeks telling me what he was going to be doin’ sexing that little junkie girl a his. This is honeymoon week in the ghetto. You got a fitty-year-ole man, but five feet tall, with no teeth and a bald head, with a twenty-five-year-old junkie who done dropped three black babies out a her ass and the State or baby daddy’s mamma got custody of all three, en you gonna tell me that ain’t about sex or money. All he can talk about is the sex—just like a woman talk all the time on her man.”

Mister Jimmy: “He actually names sex acts, and discusses what they do?”

Tia: “Yes sir, Mister Jimmy, especially when I’m filling the cream-filled doughnuts! It is disgusting. A course you know what it’s about when you see her little white snow bunny self en know she been dropping black babies. I mean, you living with a man twice your age who you just met and not payin’ bills, you know what that’s about. Excuse me, but that’s about suction! That girl could suck the lava out of a dormant volcano—and that ain’t no lie! And that’s okay—that’s his life. But why do I have to hear about all of the gooey details at work. And then, after I work for him all week while he getting’ his freak on and playing STD roulette—cause you just know he bare backin’ that!—he has to come back in here and complain about the work I do, and my work’s fine. I mean, I may not be able to suck the lava out of a volcano, but I sure as heck can bake some bread!”

Mister Jimmy: “Look, your work is good, your boss is happy. Just ignore him.”

Tia: “I know I should, but then he starts picking on me—like a woman do, telling me how my man don’t work, and he’s just using me, and I better put a lock on the beer cooler when I’m at work. I’m doin’ the best I can. I don’t depend on no man. My ex-husband doesn’t make his child support. But you don’t see me being a bitch and goin’ to White Daddy [the government] to get my money. I work my two jobs and I control the money I make. The plantation is closed—White Daddy can take care of all those hos who need they fake hair.”

Mister Jimmy: “So, essentially, you are living as the white men of my generation lived. You are the bread-winning head-of-household.”

Tia: “That’s right. I didn’t spread my legs to get a roof over my head.”

Mister Jimmy: “So, you’re not bothered about him gossiping on you like a woman, but about him talking down to you as a head-of-household, of putting on airs that he has his house in order and that you do not?”

Tia: “Exactly!”

Mister Jimmy: “Then, woman to “man,” what are you going to say to that little twerp next time he breaks bad with you about your boyfriend?”

Tia grinned widely, looking down at me from her great height, and said, “I’ll tell him, ‘At least My Bitch don’t suck dicks!’ when he needs to get high, but just snatches a beer out of the cooler.”

James LaFond, reporting from the heart of your Emasculation Nation