What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know: The Real Deal on Love and Relationships

by Denene Millner, Nick Chiles

Overview

From the author of The Sistahs' Rules and her husband comes a Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus for African Americans.Denene Millner's sassy, shrewd reaction to The Rules became a bestseller. The Sistahs' Rules spent six months on the BlackBoard list. Then, proving the value of her own advice about dating and mating, Denene married Brother Mr. Right, Nick Chiles. Once she'd laid claim to his heart, she took a really long look at his head to find out what his words and actions really meant. Together they decided to go boldly where few couples dare: inside the minds of a sistah and a brotha to reveal the real deal on what Black men think of commitment, monogamy, and other mysteries—and what sistahs know about staying true to themselves.

What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know is the first book for African Americans that decodes the inscrutable ways of the opposite sex. In this funny, honest, provocative book, Millner and Chiles step across the great divide to create—once and for all—real understanding between sistahs and brothers. They give the real deal on:

* The perfect date
* Why brothers think all sistahs are angry
* Why so many men could run down Michael Johnson in an effort to escape commitment
* Whether it's fair for sistahs to scream when brothers chase white girls
* Why good sex matters

What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know covers everything from first dates to lasting commitments, from myths and misunderstandings between brothas and sistahs to the kind of communication that fosters love and respect. It reveals, for the very first time, the motivations and fears coursing through that warm-blooded animal on the other side of the bed.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780688164980
Publisher:	HarperCollins
Publication date:	01/20/1999
Pages:	320
Product dimensions:	4.90(w) x 6.92(h) x 0.84(d)

About the Author

Denene Millner is a New York Times bestselling author, award-winning journalist, and director of the Denene Millner Books imprint. She has written many books for adults, teens, and children and is the author of Early Sunday Morning and My Brown Baby: On the Joys and Challenges of Raising African American Children. She is also the founder of mybrownbaby.com, a critically acclaimed blog that examines the intersection of parenting and race. Denene lives in Atlanta with her two daughters and their adorable Goldendoodle, Teddy.

Denene Millner and Nick Chiles live in South Orange, New Jersey. She is a reporter for the New York Daily News; he is an awardwinning journalist who has worked for the Dallas Moming News, New York Newsday, and the Newark Star-Ledger.

Read an Excerpt

1

Yoo-hoo! Over Here: How Do We Get Your Attention?

From a Sistah

Can't count how many times I've been to a party with a bunch of beautiful sistahs, dip from head to toe, smelling good, sweet as sweet potato pie and ready to tear up the rug and expecting to tuck a few cuties' numbers into their purses by the end of the night -- and they end up leaving dejected, having spent a full two hours buying themselves their own drinks and dancing in a circle with their girlfriends.

The cuties are there -- dressed to kill and sipping their Henny, standing up against the wall next to their boys, simultaneously doing the two-step and surveying the room. But they don't move from that spot -- unless it's to get a refill on that Courvoisier. They don't dance with anyone, except the wall and the one weave-and-leather-wearing-big-booty-spiked-heel woman in the room who looks like she's a little hot in the ass. And they hardly strike up a conversation with anyone other than their boys.

And in the meantime, we sistahs are left to feel like the wicked stepsister at the ball -- unattractive, out of shape, just plain unworthy.

We thought we'd done everything we were supposed to do to get a guy interested in us. We made sure we looked cute that night. Threw a casual glance over at Mr. Two-Step -- might have even tossed the booty in his direction.

Alas, no play.

No forseeable action.

Forced to go home feeling woefully inadequate -- like we don't have what it takes to snag a good one.

It's a harrowing experience.

Ditto for the cute brother on the subway who sees us every morning at the same exact time at the same exact place, but ignores our behindsevery single solitary day -- and the cute guy at the video store, grocery store, mall, hell, anywhere we go where there are fine guys to whom we might be inclined to give some play.

Now maybe it's us -- and we're sure you'll correct us if we're wrong -- but it doesn't seem like brothers are into that old-fashioned way of meeting a sistah -- the one where he sees a woman and, like, talks to her. Offers to buy her a glass of wine. Asks her out on a date.

It's almost as if we don't exist.

What do we have to do to attract your attention and get you to approach us?

From a Brother

Hold up; wait a minute. You're kiddin, right? Because that scenario you've painted doesn't exist in any world I've inhabited. Where are these pretty, put-together sistahs just waiting to give all these brothers some play? This is surely a figment of your vivid imagination, right?

Let me give you this scenario as a reality check: We're leaning against the wall in the club with our boys, checking out all the cuties gathered in tight little circles with their girlfriends. We assume these women are at a DANCE club to DANCE. I don't think that's an outrageous assumption to make. We were excited and anxious when we got there because there were so many beautiful women in the house. We survey the scene carefully, trying to pick out the right one to approach. This is a dangerous, careful science. Make a mistake and our experiment blows up in our face, right there in front of the whole club. We are looking for a sign from anything with breasts. She must be with a group of three women or less so that our embarrassment will be kept to a minimum if we get dissed. She must look warm and fairly happy about life. This means that at some point we see a smile cross her lips. She must have hit the dance floor at some point during the course of the evening. If she has thrown a glance in our direction, all the better -- but this one isn't entirely necessary (maybe she just can't see us from where she's sitting). We take about two hundred deep breaths, we maybe do a quick shot of Jack to boost our confidence, then we march across that interminable stretch of dance floor separating us from her table, we present ourselves in front of her and we let the magic words slide from our lips: "Would you like to dance?"

Invariably what we get in these situations is a very quick and decisive, "No, not now." That, of course, is the same as, "Hell no, Negro, now get out my way!" Though we try not to make it appear so, we are shattered. We walk back to our spot against the wall. Our boy, if he's truly our boy, offers a few mumbled curses in our behalf thrown in her direction. Maybe we get the nerve to try this one or two more times, but after awhile, thoroughly defeated and confused, we give up. In the bathroom, we stare at ourselves in the mirror and wonder what's wrong. Does our breath stink? Is there a large booger in our nose? Is it the color of the suit? (Maybe she doesn't like purple.) The haircut?

This happens all the time. It happens so often that we really don't understand what you're talking about when you complain about men not asking you to dance. It is truly a case of the genders looking at the same issue from perspectives as far apart as Mississippi and the motherland. Recently I was at a club with my wife, my sister Angelou and a group of her female friends who all happen to be single. The single women occasionally all danced together in a circle, looking like they were enjoying themselves. But then they'd sit down and look around the club, waiting -- or so I thought. Then a man approached one of the women and asked her to dance. Immediately, she said, "No." Just like that. Wouldn't you know it -- the next day this woman was complaining about not meeting any men at the club. Typical.

And forget about the subway, the grocery store or the video store -- no way in hell you're giving us play in these locations. Come now -- how many times have you really been willing to give some stranger play on the subway? Yeah, you might give him a smile if he's exceptionally good-looking; you might even let him talk to you. But are you really going to give this stranger a phone number or the necessary information to allow him to find you once you step off the train? I think not. I think sistahs step out the door with that Hannibal Lecter mask on, and it takes rare and exceptional circumstances for the average brother to pry it off.

You wonder why the sistah with the weave, big booty and the spiked heels is getting all the dances and all the play? Well, for one, if she has a big booty and she's out there on the dance floor twirling it around for every brother to see, we're probably going to be lining up to get our chance to bask in its glorious rays. As for the weave, most brothers tend to care about or notice these hair issues much less than the sistahs do. If this sistah looks like she's having a good time and she's likely to dance with us, we're certainly going to give her a shot -- particularly if the booty's talking to us. You're all going to look at her attributes and her clothes and figure we're shallow and superficial for going after her.

But what you all conveniently ignore is her attitude.

The sistah is enjoying herself; she looks like fun. This is what the brothers came to the club looking for: FUN. So we're going to be drawn to this sistah like flies on ...well, you know.

Why do you all get dolled up and travel en masse with your girls to the dance dub if you don't want to dance? What -- or, more specifically, who -- are you waiting for? Surely you know Denzel doesn't hit the clubs anymore.

Table of Contents

	Introduction	xi
	Prologue	1
	The Meeting Stage	5
1.	Yoo-hoo! Over Here: How Do We Get Your Attention?	7
2.	The Huff and Puff Syndrome: Why Do Brothers Think All Sistahs Are Mad?	17
3.	How Much Does Appearance Really Count?	26
4.	Impressions: What Makes You Want My Digits?	34
5.	Playas	48
6.	The Digits: What Makes You Call Again?	58
7.	Work It: What Should We Do to Achieve the Perfect Date?	66
8.	Baggage	74
9.	White Girls	82
10.	Gimme the Loot: Am I a Gold Digger Because I Want My Man to Be Paid?	92
	Getting the Love You Need	103
11.	Stop! In the Name of Love: What's Wrong with Taking It Slow?	105
12.	You're My Guy, She's My Girl: Can't We All Just Get Along?	114
13.	Intimidation: Why Does He Keep Running Away?	122
14.	Finding Time for Each Other	130
15.	Skeletons	140
16.	Cohabitation: How Do You Feel About Shacking Up?	150
17.	Refined or Freaky?	158
18.	Couples and Conflict: How Do We Deal?	168
19.	Getting Serious About Getting Serious	176
20.	The Big "C": The Ring, the Ceremony, Forever	187
	Keeping It Alive	197
21.	Appearance After the Hookup: What's Wrong with Comfortable?	199
22.	Who's Responsible for My Happiness?	210
23.	Sex: Hell Yeah It Still Matters	221
24.	Family Affairs: Mama, Daddy and Us	232
25.	Work: Are We in Competition?	242
26.	Emotions: Can We Get Some?	252
27.	Romance: How Can We Get Some?	264
28.	Division of Labor: Can Ya Help Me?	273
29.	Hit the Road, Jack: Knowing When to Say "Enough"	284
30.	Keeping It New: How Concerned Are We with Keeping It Hot, Hot, Hot?	291

Editorial Reviews

The book's honest, witty dialogue format makes reading it like getting inside your lover's head. Readers will walk away form this kiss-and-tell survival guide with hundreds of secrets—all from a sister and brother perspective.
— Essence Magazine

Deborah Gregory

Coauthored by the creator of The Sistah's Rules and her husband, a reporter, this volume offers a fresh, often funny perspective on African-American relationships. Millner and Chiles probe each other's views on dating, sex and marriage in a fast-paced, sassy dialogue that both pokes fun at and illuminates the differences between male and female perspectives on love. What's wrong with taking the "slow route to the sheets?" Millner demands. "Men," retorts Chiles, with a candor that is one of the book's hallmarks, will go "fast, slow, medium--whatever's necessary to get into the panties." Some chapters address specifically issues of African-American relationships. One deals with the appeal of white women to the black "brother," for example, while another ponders why so many black women seem angry to black men. Other chapters reprise the universal themes of every relationship guide since the beginning of time. Such material can seem so basic it's banal: Do we really need such a clued-in pair to tell us that the best way to be asked out on a second date is to be yourself? Still underneath the street smarts and the slang so hip some readers will need a glossary, Chiles and Millner are warm, straightforward, down-to-earth mentors. One of the book's great pleasures is the chance to eavesdrop on their blunt but affectionate banter, which models just the kind of male-female honesty extolled by experts of all colors. (Feb.)

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly