Casting call, ladies! I am looking for that special Mrs. Starr.
We can deal with the looks and other qualities later. But there are two key personality traits that the woman must have: She must be sophisticated — and ratchet.
Yep, I said it. The next Mrs. Starr has to be a sophisti-rachet sista! (I know it seems peculiar, but please, don’t judge me.)
For those who do not know what sophisti-ratchet means, let me break it down for you:
So·phis·tə·ra·chet (noun,adjective) Audio:Sophisti-ratchet sə-ˈfis-tə-ˈra-chət
Definition of sophistirachet (woman)
1: a woman of highly educated pedigree (academically, socially, and otherwise) and worldly breeding; fluent in various forms of public etiquette yet is equally knowledgeable of the latest strip club songs, updated on most prime-time ratchet cable programs and conversant in the tongue of hoochie mama.
2: a high-class individual who is open to incorporating low-brow tendencies in to her persona for momentary enjoyment.
3: an otherwise brilliant woman but, for some reason, is a Blackberry owner who, at times, is puzzled by touch screen mobile technology.
5: she is multilingual, speaking several UN-recognized languages; she is an expert in a tongue that will never be heard at a General Assembly: rachatese.
[ Editor’s Note: Hood rats need not apply. Though reformed ones are more than welcome to submit a profile! Please check the box that reads “reformed hood rat.” It is under the question that asks, “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” Neither automatically disqualifies you from consideration.]
And why do I want a sophisti-rachet sista, you might ask? Well, because the mix of ratchet and sophistication is, oddly enough, a turn-on for me.
Indeed, the sight of a woman who can fluently express her views on the fiscal cliff at cocktail parties and recite the Ying Yang Twins’ “Whisper Song” under her breath as she thumbs through the pages of Langston Hughes’ “I Wonder As I Wander” rings wedding bells all throughout my mind.
She’s the kind of woman who can waltz at a charity ball, but when Juicy J’s “Bands A Make Her Dance” begins blaring from the sound system, she’ll at least keep her shoes on to preserve her dignity.
When workplace conflicts arise, she’ll be smart enough not to jeopardize her job security over some bull-ish. Though if the colleague with whom she has a grievance insists on acting a tad bit too cray, she’ll, in her own coded language, threaten to “put them paws on ‘em.”
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My sophisti-ratchet wifey-to-be has a Bachelor of Arts in African-American Studies, a Master of Science in Psychology, and a PhD in Anthropology with a focus on all things ratchet.
I prefer locks or whatever the woman’s natural do is as opposed to the synthetic alternative, but being half-ratchet, my prototype will probably have a head full of someone else’s hair with a few tracks noticeably out of place.
My late granny taught me how to work a needle, so I’ll be more than happy to thread her weave into shape. (Yes, I really have sewn tracks in to weave for a woman before.)
The sophisti-ratchet sista loves living life to the fullest. That’s why you’ll always hear her saying, “YOLO.” Her boss describes her as a “smooth operator” in the boardroom, but in her mind, she prefers the title (in Trina‘s voice) “Tha Baddest Bi*ch.” Oh, and she probably has a tattoo on her left breast that reads, “Tha Baddest Bi*ch.”
Nine times out of 10, she’s a Gemini like yours truly! Try imagining the combination of Mrs. Sophisti and Miss. Ratchet, if that makes any sense.
As for what she’ll get from me…
In return, my sophisti-ratchet sista will get a, well, I don’t want to say, I’m a ratchet brotha. However, I wouldn’t mind role-playing to make my sophisti-ratchet woman-to-be happy. If she won’t mind “Blowing Me Kisses” every once and a while, I’ll have no problem being her “Souja Boy.”
On her birthday, I’ll buy her not one but “2Chainz.” And if she doesn’t mind pouring me a glass of her “Lemonade” whenever I’m feeling a little parched, I’ll get dressed up, pop my collar, and be her “Gucci Mane.” I’ll even drop my “Starr” status and be her “T-Pain” if she doesn’t mind me asking her if I can “Buy you a drink.”
(BTW: I am addicted to the “Lemonade” song. It’s downloaded to my iPhone and I listen to it at least 10 times per day–along with the other tracks in my “ratchet playlist.”)
And, although I am a Fulbright Grantee, I’ll have no problem flipping the script and being her “Ratchet Scholar.”
I’m a great cook and will prepare her breakfast before she heads off to work. To put a smile on her face during a rough work week, I’ll deliver her homemade lunch to her desk. When she steps past the threshold of our home after a long day of battling in the belly of that corporate beast, I’ll have one of her favorite dishes ready. To help her ease the stress, I’ll pour her a glass of her favorite wine (probably Moscato Rose).
After making her that wonderful meal and clearing the table, I only ask that she dances on top of it. (She doesn’t have to do it every day, of course.)
No doubt, as a “Man of Vision,” I will do my best to be her “House Keeper.”
If you’re that graduate student who would run across campus and make it rain with the pages of your dissertation after your doctoral committee approves your final draft, capture the moment on Instagram and “@” a brotha. Or @ me on Twitter.
If you’re a historian who specializes in the post-Reconstruction Era in New Orleans but is comfortable expressing your inner-Wally World and showing me a thing or two about that Louisiana Purchase, then I’ll definitely be early for class, baby!
If you’re the kind of woman who would do “The Doogie” on a crowded C-Train after getting that phone call of good news because you know “er-body luv me, er-er-body luv me,” then bring your “swag” on down to Brooklyn so we can be “Bed-Stuy Till We Die.”
What are you waiting for? Our honeymoon in Ratchetstan* and lifetime of holy ratchemony awaits!
Note: “Ratchetstan” is a term I picked up from the super-talented director and actress Issa Rae while watching her RATCHETPIECE Theater series.
Are You A Sophisti-Ratchet Sista? If So, Hit A Brotha Up! was originally published on newsone.com