"When Did Men Become Trash To You?"


The amount of conversations I’ve had with men about women saying, “Men are trash”? It can be exhausting and yet, I insanely keep having them because I hope something will shift. The tone is usually set with them coming to me about it because according to them, “I feel you’ll listen, unlike most women.” What I find hilarious about this statement is that they can apply a generalization with ease but want to discuss how wrong it is that women have done the exact same thing. Let that settle in, have your laugh, and keep reading.

The conversations usually take the same route of some mansplaining about how we shouldn’t feel this way about ALL men because it lumps the good guys in with the bad guys. I understand how generalizing works, but I let them continue because they need a safe space just like everyone else, right? This isn’t some opportunity to yank men by the balls and tell them everything their expressed gender is doing wrong…especially since I don’t seek out any men to have sit downs about their behavior. When you’re out of pocket, I tell you immediately or I address it on my own platform of choice. Should you care to chime in, we can communicate like civilized human beings. When the simian behavior of Me, Tarzan and You, Jane rears its ugly head, that’s my cue to exit left. Not because I don’t have a backbone and cannot take criticism but because in my 38 years of living, I’ve only heard THAT tone be directly connected with the attitude that men are superior.

The question of “When Did Men Become Trash to You” was asked of me out of sarcasm but I’m going to answer it in all seriousness. When I was born, my father said, “another girl? I wanted a boy.” So, at birth. At birth, I had my first run in with a man being an empty chip bag towards me. How could I have possibly warranted this comment? I was fresh out the womb! My dear daddy said this shit, in front of my mother who had just pushed an 8lb 4oz human being out of her twat with no meds…that he helped create. She was kind enough to tell me this story, while laughing because, hey, life. Men being men, right?

I clap for you if this ISN’T your life but if that one example ain’t enough (because it never is), here are a few moments in my life, from childhood to my very grown ass woman years, of male humans just being GLAD bags of happiness.

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My parents had some friends whose son was a molesting ass creep. He was a teenager who forced himself on younger children. He’d tried it on me, but my sister was there to save me…here and there. But he’s not an empty water bottle that needs recycling? Ok.

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The first guy who wanted to marry me, I stopped fucking with him when I found out he was also seeing my cousin. Later, I found out he’d also light weight fucked with my sister. I didn’t see him romantically anymore. I opted for friendship with this dusty used napkin and when he was murdered I didn’t think of any of this…I only felt sorrow for his mother.

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A guy who wanted to sleep with me, even though I was his best friend’s girlfriend, threatened to tell everyone we mutually knew that I was a whore (there’s a BIG story here that you’ll have to read my future memoir to fully absorb), if I didn’t sleep with him. He was a disgusting industrialized trash bin, so I couldn’t even force myself to do it to save face. He immediately proceeded to only address me as Ho in front of any and every one, but I must find another word other than trash to describe him, right? I was in high school.

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Had a friend with benefits. He decided to get a girlfriend and not tell me. She was cool as fuck. That ended our sessions for me, but he wanted to continue. I didn’t. Years later they broke up and we saw each other a few more times until I found out they had reconciled. I kept my distance, but he was confused. I explained that sexual energy doesn’t lie. This was for the best but of course he disagreed. I asked what he’d do if she questioned him about our “weird” energy. Without blinking, he said he’d deny it to the death, but he expected that I would go along with the lie. He asked what I’d do if she asked me and I said I’d send her to him to get the answer. He repeated that he would deny it to the death, asked me why I’d even insinuate that we had been involved AND proceeded to ask when was the next time we were going to fuck. I didn’t stay friends with that dirty fork, but I shouldn’t refer to him as garbage, right?

When my father found out that I was no longer a virgin, he asked me “how many guys have you slept with, so I’ll know how big a ho you are” …and laughed but seemed confused that I wasn’t laughing, too. This is one of the things I will never forget no matter how long ago he erased it from his memory or if it was cut out with the cancer that was eating his brain, but I must listen to people tell me to figure out a prettier word to call my dad because he can’t possibly STILL be a moldy orange, right? FYI, my father didn't become this moldy orange on the evening of this ridiculous shit statement. He was a card carrying member of Team Trash as a youngsta. He maintained his membership throughout adulthood, as most guys do. I'll write about this epidemic at a later date.

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A guy I was engaged to broke up with me to see if he could work it out with his ex…two weeks after sitting on the phone with me picking out engagement rings. He wanted to work it out with a woman who had cheated on him, broke up with him, and stated she was done with him. But there’s no way he could possibly be the crusty, hard, edges of bread none of us are going to eat, right?

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I rejected advances for years because they were usually at frat parties and he was barking at me like a wild animal. One day he asked me out in a civilized manner. We weren’t at a frat party and he wasn’t barking. We talked for 4 hours, over coffee. Best date ever. Things progressed and everything was great. He wanted me to meet his mom and other family that was important to him. Two days later I texted him. No answer. Weeks of not hearing from him went by and I was rushing to the bank before boarding my plane and literally ran into him. As I was picking my stuff up off the ground, I realized who I’d bumped into and proceeded to walk into the bank. He stopped me and begged that I listen to why he disappeared. I said my number hasn’t changed. He called a week later to tell me that he had to teach me a lesson because light skin women think they can have whatever they want when they want it and that ain’t how life works. A dirty diaper wasted my time AND caused emotional turmoil but trash is too harsh of a word, right?

Of course, someone somewhere is going to define this post as me being a hurt and bitter woman. I’m ready for it! However, this is an iota of some of the more minor interactions with boys/men I’ve had. The larger moments of dealing with trashy individuals? Those will be therapeutically released to a therapist, memoirs, and films/TV. This isn’t written for the Pick Me women who want to tell other women that if we were kinder, maybe men wouldn’t mistreat us. This isn’t written for men who get angry at being called trash but smile as they call us crazy ass bitches and hos. This isn’t written for women who suggest that the reason we think men are trash is because we keep picking the wrong guys. Thank you, Know It All and Know Nothings. I most certainly picked my father so that definitely set the precedent for my future pickings. Fuck you and I say that with a smile.

This is for EVERY woman who understands what I mean when I say, “men are trash.” You understand that I don’t think ALL men are worthless pieces of shit. You also understand how it feels to have the onus of better behavior placed on us (to stop calling men trash) versus it being on the boys/men who act like girls/women aren’t worthy of respect and common decency. This is for every woman who can answer the question because unfortunately, she must revisit this more than she even wants to. This is also for the men who aren’t trash and want to do something different than their bruhs. It’s for people who understand that trash can be recycled and become something sustainable.  

I suppose I’ll continue to have these conversations with men who appear to care because I do want a healthy shift to occur. Maybe men will stop addressing women with why we call them trash and they’ll start asking each other, when did you become trash? Or maybe none of this will change and I’m just grossly optimistic where I shouldn’t be. Only time will tell.


Artist Advocate. Creative Consultant. Director of Dopeness. Freedom Fighter. Renaissance Rib. Saintly Synner. Truth Teller. Unboxed Unicorn and Weaver of Words. 

All of this (and more) makes me Syn.

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