There's a nasty rumor that women don't stick together, don't get along, are catty, bitchy and back stabbers with one another, especially when it comes to a man. I would like to officially amend that statement to the following: bitches, tricks, hoes and gold-diggers don't get along, are catty, bitchy and back stabbers with one another. See nobody likes a hoe. A hoe is a real woman's enemy and sister to Da Bitch Ass Male. She's a scab, traitor, Uncle Tom whatever you want to call it, because she denies her own nature. She denies that her body and emotions are one and therefore can freak the night away and step aside. She denies her powerful womanly instinct that demands she be treated like a queen, making it harder for honest woman to enjoy their king. But above all others, the hoe, trick, self professed female pimp or sextress, whatever she calls her self-today- cause she don't know, is most guilty of denying her innate ability to sense another woman's man or a man who has been taken Often males and even females confuse the latter group with Women. If lost by the untrained eye, ?its because you know too many rookies and not enough pros. So to separate the real ones from the fake ones, in a time long ago, in a land far away, the Women banded together to form the league of extraordinary Women, entitled- Da Sista Hood.

If you've never heard of it, it is a subliminal, chemical and underground movement to protect and serve the interest of women and rehabilitated hoes across the globe. Not to be confused with the feminist or carpet muncher movement. Da Sista Hood can be known by their more charitable works such as keeping many communities, but more importantly the African American community at their best and alive. Their duties include but are not limited too: popping other people's children when they cut up in church when their mama, a fellow Sista, was in the back with the usher board. Their more familiar work is the fight against the hoes of the industry that use their feminine power for evil instead of good.

Because there is an unspoken code in Da Sista Hood, men fail to realize all the work we do in a simple day. We use our power to make your life better. We craftily suggest empowering and improving you into our own perfect creation. We domesticate you... if you will, to changing your underwear- DAILY! Actually showering on days other than Sunday, preferably wiping your hands after eating but before returning to the remote or play station, and ye olde favorite: putting the seat down. That all takes work! But tricks are for kids and truly believes she's going to glean off of my labor, oh no, now I gottah cut'cha.

But the best-kept works of Da Sista Hood, is our ability to come together to come against men when they phuck up. Actually to come against really isn't the best phraseology. More like, guide them back to the reality which is sanity, ...yeah much better. Para Exempla: when we see another woman's man talking to an arch nemesis, Da Hoes, in the club a Sista will "accidentally" stick her leg and on his way back to his "woman". Somehow his typically handsome swagger becomes clumsy and he trips over his own two. Number falling from hand, Da Sista Hood saves another heart and family. She doesn't have to know the sister, per se, and we know her man is taken because he's tagged with our trade marked signature- you match. Plus our Sista Hood senses are on high alert when in Ho territory, Da Club. Being an official card carrying member and Chapter 3, division 15 President, to my own surprise this telekinetic, telepathic radar goes further than even my keenly honed senses could have taken me.

I discovered the depth of my endowed Sista Hood powers while watching Caribbean Jazz on BET (I started out watching BET news, I swear). I was too lazy to get the remote to turn and before I knew it I was looking at Eric Benet. Nothing more personifies the power of da Sista Hood than Halle Berry and Eric Benet. Though I never liked her and considered her a pathetic actress who got over on her fabulous figure and mildly attractive looks (hey, I'm a hata! That's why I'm writing this and you're reading it), she is a card carrying member of Da Sista Hood. And when her card came up for renewal in 2002 after winning an Oscar for the disastrous Monster's Ball, she happily plunked down her membership fee and kept it tight.

When I heard that Eric Benet, her husband of less than 3 years, was in sex addicts' recovery, I couldn't continue to hate. My telepathic Sista hood prayers went out to her. Benet was to be a kinder, gentler, more artistic and "sensitive" dude, or so some thought. Sistas across the globe wanted it to work for her after so many past hurts. Being bi-racial she could have played the race card and claimed to be an octoroon, tri-racial or another sympathetic apology for being black- and. But with an abusive alcoholic African American father and working class white mother Halle had paid her dues in life and fought on, (another requirement on Da Sista Hood application). Suffering even more abuse from her former husband, David Justice of then the Atlanta Braves, she handled her business like a true Sista, signed the papers and rolled out like Mary J: "I'm not gonna cry". But Mr. Benet, her self professed "soul-mate" claimed he was a sex addict and unable to see Halle was the best thing that could have happened to him. Last I checked Eric wasn't selling albums like that and Halle definitely was the breadwinner in that situation. Love doesn't cost a thing but food and mortgages do, keep it tight. She even adopted his maternally orphaned daughter India, age 9. Who lost her mother in a car accident and was in the custody of her maternal grandparents (red flag #1). But while India and Halle were "bonding" Halle had a ho in her home. None closer than her best friend of 20 years.

Like a true card carrier, Halle didn't trip. She sent his ass to therapy when he threw up that lame ass excuse "I need help," praying on her kryptonite like feminine frailties. She almost faltered and took him back after the recovery was over, but the telekinetic and telepathic prayers and thoughts of fellow Sista Hood members took over her like a second wind. When caught again not but two weeks after his "treatments", Benet found himself on the Beverly Hills highway twitching. And like a true Sista, Hales good heart paid in full like a matured mutual fund when she adopted his daughter, and is now eligible for custody and will require Benet to pay child support for her, another Sista in the making.

Now Eric is trying to earn loot to pay his baby's step mama and is deduced to taking a gig on Caribbean jazz, a show so pathetic it comes on at 3:00 AM and is hosted by Rachel- (no comment on her status with Da Sista Hood). Immediately, without hesitation, I saw his grungy, broke ass and turned the channel without even knowing it. No hatred in my eyes, no hard feelings, totally unaware of how quickly my fingers could move without my neurons telling it to. Though never a fan, and leery of how he always liked women with more money than him, singing of shunning women who "were up on some material thangs" he had a diddy or two I could have sat through. But out of innate respect for Da Hood, he hurt Halle, twas like hurting me. He don't have to worry about no album sales, concert appearances, his credibility is shot in Da Sista Hood bureau and his name is officially in our database.

Released: May 10th, 2004

The views and opinions expressed herein by the author do not necessarily represent the opinions or position of Playahata.com.