I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. But I should just come out and say it:
I like white people.
Not every white person in the world but some of the ones I’ve interacted and have had past or present relationships with, not half bad.
I get it however, given American History, I understand how controversial that statement can be coming from a Black man, but also I believe in a more “human” movement, element, collective, and hated white people for the past seems anti-human, especially if some of those same white people want to correct those past actions, laws, stigmas, whatever what have you.
But still, I live in Boston, where people vote liberally, and live conservatively.
There doesn’t seem to be much room in Boston to “swirl,” as they say, or the people that do commingle are doing it as a novel experience, or expect you to know every rap artist by heart and all their lyrics starting with KRS One.
What really got under my skin was this idea of being a “bull” to a cuckold relationship. Because as I get older, and progress on my fitness journey, I may also fall into the area of being fetishized, and chased after by anyone, not because they “love” me or even want to get to know me, but they have a role for me to play for me and my member.
And it sucks to think about, that you’re always the outside man in an otherwise loving relationship, more than a one night stand but who do you hold tight in the middle of the night?
I’m not built for it. I don’t think I am at least, and while I still want to be healthy, strong, and physically fit, I don’t want to just fall into another trap setup by the man to get another brother under the white mans thumb.
A black thread tightly wound around some porcelain finger.
I want love, and while my grandmother goes “there’s got to be a black girl out there for you” I wonder if she’s passed on, and the last thing I said to her, in a fit of psychosis, was “you look like a duck.” Then she quits life. Just my luck.
And I don’t want to marry in my race, just because someone outside my race “wouldn’t get it” and yet, I feel like I have amassed an ample reading list for a serious life partner in the event of wedding bells. Bell Hooks, Franz Fanon, James Baldwin, all that.
It feels tough to navigate, because I want to do what I want, and I don’t want to hear lip from my family.
I want to do what I want, and I don’t want to provide someone with a masterclass on race relations.
I want to do what I want, and love who I love, without some chip on my shoulder thinking I’ll keep some Nubian Goddess on the side for when things get tough.
It all feels unfair and unsustainable.
And here I am, dating Palmela Anderson, watching women that aren’t black, because I feel like Black women shouldn’t be in these skin flicks.
Ain’t that a bitch.
For now I’m single, I’m not even dating. I’m on apps but I frequently get timed out for inactivity.
If you read my other blog it sounds like I just want to get back with my ex, but that doesn’t seem like it’s happening ever, so I’m playing the flute and tenderizing beef all at once.
Anyway, I don’t want to date exclusively any race, love should be free, and blind to skin color, if you ask me.
Yeah, we live in America, it’s a hard pill to swallow, and no one likes a passport bro, but if these feelings mean I have to emigrate to Europe or something God fucking Help Me.