Yeah, yeah, I know. Fanon's book is called Black Skin White Mask. But I have to talk about my personally feelings on dating interracially. I have often said that, in my attempts to find companionship with a like spirit, that I can't delude myself to think that somehow I would not feel like I've compromised my standards if I were to be with a white man. How could I look at him and not feel a sense of loss for not finding my black partner? It is truly black men that make my heart skip a beat. Yes, I can find a white man that is on my same level intellectually and emotionally but will he make me get butterflies in my stomach when I watch him get dressed in the morning? How can I ask him to be with me if he knows that my true love will always lie with a brotha?
I always feel a sense of frustration at having to explain the black experience to white men. It gets tiring to have to explain racism all the time. Sure, there are plenty of black people that think that racism ended in the 60s, can’t we all just get along, and that color doesn't matter. They can’t explain the disparity in the prison population; the economic and educational institutionalized racism. They are the type of people that would do well in relationships with white people. I'm not that sista. I have never gotten along intellectually or philosophically with those brothas that say that they date any woman, purple, green, or blue. When they start naming colors in the crayon box, that means they prefer white women. If you like white women, then you sure as hell won't like me.
Here's my general rule of thumb. If I have to explain to you what happens during a Black church ceremony, then you aren't the one for me. I don't want to have give lessons before, during or after about what's going to happen, when to stand, when to recite, and what everything meant in a post game wrap-up. (And let it be known that I'm NOT Christian) If the only comments a man can make after a Black church experience are about the music, they are not the men for me.
The comfort I feel with a brotha goes beyond what I can describe with words. I have had white men that I've shared amazing connections with, whom I love dearly as soul mates. It breaks my heart to explain to them that I can't be with them because they are white and they don't see what the issue is for me. They don't feel what my heart feels. They don't know that with a brotha, I FEEL more and I can't let that feeling go.
I dated a brotha once that looked so white that people didn't believe him when he said he was a brotha. He would put black on his applications and people would change it. With the exception of his incredibly gorgeous three-foot long locs, he looked like a white man. That being said, he couldn't have been more Afrocentric. He taught in inner city schools, Africa was his spiritual and cultural homeland, he played African drums every week and attended an Afrocentric place of worship. He wore sarongs around the house that were so sexy it hurt. We were both vegan and neither one of us interested in material things. (Damn that Black motherfucker for being intimidated, I was crazy about his ass) I've not been caught up in the light skin, light eyes thing since I was in high school. When I saw him, I saw a black man. I am convinced I saw something different than most people saw. I saw a magnificent African man. While most of the men I'm attracted to look like me: tall, athletic bodies, similar complexions. He was truly a different color physically but he was the same color on the inside.
I have to wonder if I could ever find a white man with those sensibilities if I could love him? I wonder if a white man like that could exist?
I always feel a sense of frustration at having to explain the black experience to white men. It gets tiring to have to explain racism all the time. Sure, there are plenty of black people that think that racism ended in the 60s, can’t we all just get along, and that color doesn't matter. They can’t explain the disparity in the prison population; the economic and educational institutionalized racism. They are the type of people that would do well in relationships with white people. I'm not that sista. I have never gotten along intellectually or philosophically with those brothas that say that they date any woman, purple, green, or blue. When they start naming colors in the crayon box, that means they prefer white women. If you like white women, then you sure as hell won't like me.
Here's my general rule of thumb. If I have to explain to you what happens during a Black church ceremony, then you aren't the one for me. I don't want to have give lessons before, during or after about what's going to happen, when to stand, when to recite, and what everything meant in a post game wrap-up. (And let it be known that I'm NOT Christian) If the only comments a man can make after a Black church experience are about the music, they are not the men for me.
The comfort I feel with a brotha goes beyond what I can describe with words. I have had white men that I've shared amazing connections with, whom I love dearly as soul mates. It breaks my heart to explain to them that I can't be with them because they are white and they don't see what the issue is for me. They don't feel what my heart feels. They don't know that with a brotha, I FEEL more and I can't let that feeling go.
I dated a brotha once that looked so white that people didn't believe him when he said he was a brotha. He would put black on his applications and people would change it. With the exception of his incredibly gorgeous three-foot long locs, he looked like a white man. That being said, he couldn't have been more Afrocentric. He taught in inner city schools, Africa was his spiritual and cultural homeland, he played African drums every week and attended an Afrocentric place of worship. He wore sarongs around the house that were so sexy it hurt. We were both vegan and neither one of us interested in material things. (Damn that Black motherfucker for being intimidated, I was crazy about his ass) I've not been caught up in the light skin, light eyes thing since I was in high school. When I saw him, I saw a black man. I am convinced I saw something different than most people saw. I saw a magnificent African man. While most of the men I'm attracted to look like me: tall, athletic bodies, similar complexions. He was truly a different color physically but he was the same color on the inside.
I have to wonder if I could ever find a white man with those sensibilities if I could love him? I wonder if a white man like that could exist?
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