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Crystal Evans Books

“The idea that sex is something a woman gives a man, and she loses something when she does that, which again for me is nonsense. I want us to raise girls differently where boys and girls start to see sexuality as something that they own, rather than something that a boy takes from a girl.”

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

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Monday, February 9, 2015

Crystal Evans, the strong one!





He said My love came easy... 

He didn't know me well. He did not know how hard it is for me to let a man get close to me. He didn't understand how special he is, he couldn't begin to comprehend the utter uniqueness of his personality. An eclipse of destiny that transpires every once in a while for the strong woman where she lets her guard down and allow one preferred male inside her world. 

It looked easy to him but love, in its realness and sincerity is suppose to happen as naturally as a creek flowing into a larger tributary. Real love is like a drug, a headlong plunge off a cliff on the windy side of a peninsula. You don't know what happened until your face is stung from the slap of the water below you. Then you are drowning, tussling to keep afloat the turbulent waves of emotions. Funny enough, you can choose to ride the waves and wait for the calm of the sea or you may opt to let go... And drown... 

It's funny how people by making simple off hand remarks reveal the depth and veracity of life. In those few words I found a new maxim. I never thought I loved easy. I mean if he asked the numerous men I've turned down, eluded, the number of men in the friend zone hoping one day to be my first draft pick, the men  who I outright rejected for one reason or another then he would understand that my love don't come easy. It never did, for him maybe? But then he is another story... 


He is... He just doesn't know it. I mean every woman struggles to make the right decision about the man she just met. Some men don't really get it easier than others. I believe some men are simply more persistent, committed to getting close to the strong woman than others. The ones who did not get her cookie simply showed their true colours too early or gave up too quickly. 

I believe the strong women like myself try super hard to make it work for it's disheartening to know that after you have held out this long, you gave your love to the wrong person. It does happen in many cases, persistent bad boys turn strong women into hard and bitter women,  forcing them back into their shells like a turtle. And so like a turtle you make a slow paced move back to the starting line.  

And sometimes you are lucky enough to get a guy who is really interested and only to destroy him with your insecurities. 

Woman Scorned 
Copyright © 2015
Crystal Evans 
Preview on Amazon March 15, 2015 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

letters to my unborn child

Letters to my Unborn Child

He picked up after fifteen missed calls and
I won't forget how he shouted...

" Who a you babyfather?"
"Who a You babyfather?"

Those were the most painful Four words that ever came from his lips. They wrecked far more damage than when he said. " Girl me and you no deh"
I was not telling a lie on him. I simply wanted him to be there for the baby.

He continued, voice laced with anger and dripping with contempt. " Who fe give you to money fe go a doctor. Me no have no money to give you to go doctor"

I listened and my hope sank like a submarine in the deepest darkest part of the ocean. He was upset. He went on to say. " Other women took a morning after pill...or something. You just lay back and make it happen because this was what you wanted all along. A don't know what you hope to achieve?"

Yesterday I text him and asked him to buy me some lunch. He responded three hours later that he didn't have it. I choked back on my tears, remembering all those times I bought him lunch and went out of my way to give him what he needed.

He was simply not going to be there for me. He blamed me for this pregnancy. He thought I was trying to trap him into a relationship. He understood the eternal bond parents share. And in the same breath he knew that like many men, he could just walk away. Fatherhood for him was a choice, something he could completely disregard if he wanted to.

Why was I surprised he would shirk his responsibilities? He was afterall his father's son, the father he complained never took care of him. It was in his genes. Why was I even surprised?

He muttered angrily. " You on your own. Anytime you call or text me phone again. Me ago diss you"

I cried. " Why are you doing this to me?"
I shouted in distress. "you cannot hurt me and you cannot invalidate me."

He replied firmly. " Me can avoid you"
He added. " Don't call me to come down a hospital come sign no paper! You on your own"

I asked in anguish. " A wah me do to you so make you a treat me so?"

He replied in a gruff voice. " If you only know how me hate you. Me done with you. I swear to god. Me done with you for good now!"

I pleaded with him. " Hate me for what? What me do you to deserve your hatred?"

He croaked into the phone. " Me and you done. You ago sorry. Memba me tell you that"

I sniveled and asked meekly. " A threaten you a threaten me Dre?"

He let out a slew of profanities and then there was a click in my ear.

I accepted it now that I would have to take care of this child alone. He texted my phone again.

" I can't be your babydaddy. I am sorry"

He was showing me how parenthood could be a choice. He choose not to be the father of my child and I could choose not mother this unborn child by simply doing an abortion.

I told him that women have been raising babies for centuries without paternal support. Just like his mother, I had joined their ranks. Abortion was not a notion endorsed by my mother. She said. " Bring it. It can't suffer and make the little ediat bwoy gwaan bout him business. Him soon get what's coming to him"

" Little idlers bwoy siddung pon wall everyday and smoke weed a come diss my daughter. Who is (profanity) him? Him have a name fe himself? Him last name worth nothing? Him a gwaan like him name Stewart or Azan!!!"

My mother sucked on her teeth in annoyance.

" No fret over him. Him soon gone. How fe him name a ring inna streets. Police soon shoot him"

I knew what she meant. She had done it too so could I. How many mothers like her with pain in her eyes, knowing the all familiar anguish I must be feeling; told their daughters to bring an unwanted child into the world?

" Welcome to man world me daughter. Man a chameleon, them a lizard. Man a failure. Whole lot a them" She laughed mirthlessly staring out at the rows of cane fields behind her house.

My mother was upset. I could not blame her. I was falling into the same traps she did. For all my smarts, I kept thinking a good looking guy meant responsible guy, I failed this dating test over and over again. I am again left alone for the third time with a baby in my womb and a father slinking away into oblivion. It was true what they said. If you want to test the true mettle of a man's character, just tell him you pregnant and watch all hell bruck loose.

Excerpt From Crystal Evans
New Novel " The Bunna Man"

Get it this February 30

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Smart Women dating Ghetto Youths

My friends chide me over and over again... " why you like those types is beyond me?" 

I am a smart girl who makes foolish relationship choices. You might not know how much bravado it took me to write this article but my emotions are awok from being in an unhealthy relationship for the last three months. 

Being a child of the Ghetto, having a little education, men from my area often regard me with contempt simply because they say " we big brain girls think we better than them"  that was never the case, I for one simply did not want to end up in the situations of so many of my peers. Young women with several fatherless children bouncing around from man to man was nothing worth aspiring to. I very much connote ghetto youth with recklessness and irresponsiblility.  I steer clear of them as much as I possibly can. I could not risk having a child that a man did not want. I wanted stability, reliance and accountability and young men from my district offered me none. 


But from time to time, a ghetto youth  often attractive, " a little cleaner than the rest" and smarter will come the way of us educated sisters and possibly sweep us off our feet with his rarity. 

We in turn will try and make it work. Investing time and resources in the relationship hoping that our goodness will rub off on him and that he can become someone higher than his status. We nurture, encourage, nag and cajole him about and against the harsh conditions of life among the lower class citizenry. We smart women know that being a young man in the ghetto is no small feat trying to keep him out of trouble and motivate him unto the path of righteousness. 

But dating a ghetto youth comes with headache and frustrations. Ghetto youths don't take talk from women. Smart women want to educate and nurture transcendence in their men for the betterment of the future family structure. But ghetto youths are accustom to dating certain women who never question their integrity, whose notions of relationships are largely superficial and who accept any crap they dish out. A smart woman and a ghetto youth is a disaster waiting to happen. 

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Good dick not responsible dick

Hmmmm........I keep seeing these there are no real men post flying all over the place.......All these post about how women raising kids alone as well as men not stepping up to be responsible. I will be the first to admit many guys are failing on the job of being responsible but truth be told all men are real. 

Just our selection process is questionable.

Interesting how careless people are when they are operating out of attraction. When you have sex with someone that looks like Sh*t on a stick you always grab condoms.

The biggest mistake so many of us are making is trying to turn attractive, good di*k into responsible di*k.

If we keep having kids with guys that are not responsible its obvious there is a test many of us are just not passing!

Maybe the conversation should start with what are our dreams and goals and what are our plans instead of how many inches dick he is packing.

If you not married the words cum inside me should be stricken from your vocabulary! LOL

Hmmmm.......Just a thought! From a woman who knows it all too well.