Urban Nightclubs: Ground Zero For War

 The sound of black voices laughing and shouting amidst the music and tinkling of glasses fill urban nightclubs with a heightened sense of blackness. On the surface it seems as though everyone is simply chillin’ in their respective clicks while talking and getting their drink on. But beneath that veil, the dark side of the Game has its grip.

Once the Gods declared that opulence was a prerequisite for gaining respect in the streets black males began hunting black females to sponsor their quest to become gods on earth. In addition to erecting walls to protect their minds from psychological capture, black females responded by avoiding places where black males were known to hunt. But, in doing so, these sistas also denied themselves their primal need for companionship. After weeks or even months on end of solitude, many would find themselves up in the clubs on the weekends—not to drink, chat or find a mate, but to find answers, come face to face with their demons or seek revenge.

By the early 1990’s urban nightclubs also became a place where the lost, lonely, hurt or angry sought reciprocity from those who were there to hunt them. Contempt and malice ran high. Both sides donned facades to veil their personal agendas and mingle. The goal for many: befriend someone from the other side and make them pay.

Rival Agendas…

Black females were primarily seeking psychological reparations from emotional pain and suffering said to be caused by black men they dealt with in their past. Depending on their mental strength and degree of scorn, their needs could be met through simple attention (to accept or reject), some wining and dining or material gain.

For black males the safari was a quest to satisfy their primal needs. They’re looking for sistas who have, even if it’s nothing more than a vagina and their own place; anything of value to enjoy, flaunt and possibly help further them in the Game. 

The sistas clearly ran the club. This is because they enjoyed priority access to the vast majority of the legally obtainable monies and housing that circulated within the black community. And as if that weren’t enough, they also had the hood’s most prized recourse and only naturally refined commodity neatly tucked away between their sexy black legs. These are facts that many of them enjoyed flaunting.

For black male hunters this fueled a desire to “flip the script”, so to speak, on the dating Game and turn an environment of meeting and matching into one of hunting, converting and enslaving. Despite the mock show of diplomacy, the situation was quite clear: the commodities that were necessary to make them gods on earth, and historically theirs to control anyway, were in the hands of their contemptuous women. So what did they do? Well, they deployed their Game to secure these black women and their recourses and restore order.

Success for black females involved getting a man to invest as much as possible prior to or without having sex in return. Success for black males necessitated securing a female with as little of a financial investment as possible. Success on both sides was and still is finding the weak of the herd on the other side: those who don’t comprehend or believe what I’ve just explained. They’re easy to spot because of their facial expressions. Or, should I say, because they have facial expressions.

Emotions fuel the Game and the quest to live life like the Gods governs it. The top commodity to control is the black female. Whoever controls her, weather it be herself, black males or outside forces, controls a priceless key to this Game, unlocking doors to a whole lot of other priceless avenues. Urban nightclubs have become ground zero where battles for that key are won and lost on any given weekend.

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