About Ayesha…

About Ayesha…

I swear this is not how I planned on spending my time today. 

I am not always up on the FB shenanigans in real time anymore, because I freed myself from the bullshit deleted the FB app from my phone. Eventually, though, I sign on from my browser to see what y’all are currently mad about.

Right now, it’s Ayesha Curry and what she said during her Red Table Talk interview that has your collective panties in a bunch.

The Curry Ladies and Jada n’nem

The first thing I did was actually watch the entire Red Table interview that seems to have you so upset. (Why did I mention that, specifically? Because of the sheer number of people who are weighing in on this with great emotion without having ever watched the interview. Y’all get on my damn nerves.)

Anyway. I watched the interview, and I heard very specifically the things that Ayesha said in relation to her marriage. Quick recap before I get to fussing:

  1. She believes that having a life and an identity of her own outside of her husband gives her greater value and makes her a happier person. She struggles with work/life/marriage balance.
  2. She hates the way women throw themselves at her husband and does not mind inserting herself in conversations when women become disrespectful. She wants to feel honored by the man she married in social settings. She has also wanted to punch people in the face for overstepping boundaries. 
  3. She’s developed anxiety so severe that she takes medication for it, because people do not respect nor understand personal boundaries and she feels like despite who she married, she still deserves personal space. 
  4. While her husband receives all this attention from women, she feels largely invisible and wants to know she is still desirable to the opposite sex. For the past ten years, she’s been Stephen Curry’s wife with zero male attention. It makes her feel insecure. She just wants to know that she is still desirable. 

This is literally all she said. 

But let y’all tell it, there was so much more to it. Y’all interpreted her comments as something entirely different. Y’all say that Ayesha is a married woman trolling for dick, that she is obviously unsatisfied in her marriage, and that there is something wrong with her for wanting the attention of the opposite sex despite the fact that she is married.

First and foremost: You know what being married makes you? It makes you married. It does not make you oblivious. It doesn’t make you blind. Doesn’t make you invisible. Doesn’t make you automatically feel validated or secure. Being married does not change the human being you are. Married women (this may come as a shock to some of you) want to feel sexy, and attractive, and desirable, because they are human, and humans have the innate desire to be liked and wanted. Saying she wanted to know she “still got it” and admitting that getting zero male attention makes her feel insecure is something that women all over the world— married, single, and all up in between— feel. Y’all think that since Ayesha is married the only attention she should desire is her husband’s? She doesn’t have to act on the attention she receives. She doesn’t have to reciprocate their desire. But it puts a certain pep in a woman’s step when she is desirable to others. She said nothing to imply or suggest that she wants to step out on her marriage. What she said was that she wants to know that she is still attractive. At less than a month away from 37 with a son who is a rising high school senior, I think about this all the time. Am I still cute, or am I getting washed? Am I still sexy? And every time I notice someone noticing me, it makes me feel a little more confident. A little more attractive. It’s an ego boost. I’m not sleeping with every person who thinks I’m cute. But I appreciate knowing that I am not invisible, that even at almost 40 I am still attractive, and that I still got something after all this time.

There is nothing wrong with this. 

Also. (You might wanna write this down. I’m about to shatter some of you.) THE INVISIBILITY THAT WOMEN FEEL IS REAL. We are the nurturers, the givers, the workers. We keep the household up and running. We cook. We do the laundry. We clean the house. We check the homework. We shuttle back and forth to sports practices and games. We care for the pets. We do the carpools and the running around and making sure everybody is where they are supposed to be. We care for our children. We care for our mates. We care for our families. And in the midst of all that caring, it is perfectly possible for a woman with even the most attentive husband to feel largely invisible and insignificant. And that invisibility can cause havoc, straight up. It can make us resentful. It makes us mean. Short-tempered. It makes us sad. Makes us feel unworthy. Attention is not a validation of personhood to most women. It is simply a confirmation that we aren’t invisible. There’s a difference between wanting attention and wanting to be seen. A marked difference that the ignorant among us obviously cannot decipher.

How miserable are some of you, for attacking this woman for admitting to be human? I, too, take anxiety medication and struggle with needing space of my own. Human as shit. I, too, want to know that I’m not invisible and I’m still desirable. Human as shit. I, too, would feel angered to the point of thinking violent thoughts if women were constantly chasing my husband and disrespecting me. Human as shit. I, too, need more than my son, more than a relationship, more than the attention of one ass human to feel complete and give me balance. Human as shit. Ayesha said the same shit that millions of women think every day, but because y’all are so enamored with the social media version of real life, you can’t handle authentic human thought and emotion.

Ayesha didn’t say anything wrong. Period. Y’all just have these really ridiculous notions of how people should behave based on your own raggedy broke ass standards, and you wanna attack people for being more real and authentic than you will ever have the courage to be. 

I’m sick of this shit. 

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