Colonial Drive Elementary School was the stomping ground for my primary school education. It was a place that sheltered us little black and white kids from the world. The teachers were so protective and so caring. They were extensions of our mothers and fathers. In all of their efforts to guide us they routinely asked us in open forum the following question: What do you want to be when you grow up? Still to this day I remember various teachers cornering me with this question and demanding an answer. It was their way of “keeping us on track”. I also recall the litany of responses that were murmured by my fellow third and fourth graders. The professions doctor, lawyer, policeman, teacher, etc. were yelled with passion and confidence. Those were the good ole days when even an eight year old could NOT get away with saying something innocent, but borderline disrespectful. The disrespect I am speaking of is Brian’s response to the question: What do you want to be when you grow up? My response: A Pimp!
For years, I have often wondered why I responded with A Pimp. My uncles were not pimps and I never knew what a pimp really was until I entered middle school. I believe the introduction to pimp ‘in was mentally formulized for me while “devilishly” watching R rated movies. You know those 70’s movies that glorified a black man with a big black Cadillac and numerous women running up to the car to touch his fur coat? It was those scenes that captured my attention. I was infatuated with the power this man appeared to have. Women and a big car equaled: Pimp ‘in. What young brother did not care to have a big car and plenty of women at his disposal when he was growing up? Fellas, don’t answer that? Keep reading.
I can only speak for myself; this was the epitome of success. Not only was this brother able to convince women to sleep with other men, he also got a portion of the payment. Easy money!! How I wish my 8 to10 hour days generated easy money. No dice for me! I have to deal with whining employees on the regular. The loot does not come effortlessly. And, another thing that does not come easy for me is my understanding of the black culture’s continued fascination with pimps and the pimp ‘in lifestyle.
Pimps up, Ho’s Down. You remember that documentary. I do. The featured pimps were the shyt and their prostitutes were controlled. Hold up! Maybe I am on to something: The pimps were the shyt and the prostitutes were controlled. How often are we (men) trying to be the man? The coolest cat? The most fly? The one with the most materialization? And, how often are we attempting to be in control? In control of our manhood? In control of our man of the house status? And yes, even in control of our women.
Is the pimp always in control? He never gets his hands dirty unless his flock gets out of line. The pimp is the reservoir for the money. The savings account is in his glove compartment. The prostitute is the work horse. She is getting the dollars while on her back and/or knees. However, I believe the prostitute is the one who is really in control while the pimp and the John are thinking they are the SHYT. Why do I think this? Not sure. But, I am sure that a man wants to be in control. So, ladies, why not let him be your “pimp”. Rub his fur coat (stroke his ego). If you are not doing this ladies, part of the pimp is bound to come out of him in some way or another i.e. getting a woman that will be his personal prostitute who understands the necessity of ego stroking.
Written by Muata. Inspired by that fourth grade teacher that threw me out of class for proudly saying: “I want to be a pimp when I grow up.” Inspired by that woman out there who has mastered the stroke. Bless your heart!