love: negroes excluded - white men only want black booty

anyone who knows me, knows that i love cartoons.  whether it's spongebob, avatar and fairly odd parents, or aqua teen hunger force, metalocalypse and robot chicken, if you were to spend the day with me you're bound to watch something animated and for me, highly entertaining. with that said, one of my most favorited cartoons of late is called "the life and times of tim" on hbo.  this is definitely adult entertainment so make sure the kiddies aren't in the room....

the vid got me thinking about the argument that white men who are attracted to black women have a slave master fetish...that they have a strong desire to capture and ravage the defiant and forcibly submissive black female slave...jungle love...yeah! o-wee-o-wee-o (remember the time?).  sadly, this is one of the fears that keeps many black women from being able to even fathom a relationship with a white man.  not to mention that if they could, many believe our ancestors would be turning over in their graves at the mere concept.

like the character tim in the above clip, my white fella has admitted that he likes shapely women.  he's an "ass-man" who says he's been physically attracted to non-white women from a young age.  does this mean that he's sub-consciously trying to act out a slave master fantasy?  and on my body at that?

unlike Bell Hooks, i do not believe that white male attraction to black women is inevitably marred in racism.  where our past does shape who we are, men, no matter what their color, are primal creatures.  they all like sex and frankly, a white boi saying he likes big butts and that he likes them round shouldn't be a violation given the fact that most black men act on the same desires and one even created a whole song about it.

in a way, i think if more white men were vocal about their attraction to a non-white female form, you'd have less racism and a greater amount of self-love in the black community...at least amongst women.  in turn, if more black women didn't regard such attraction with disdain, we'd have a greater appreciation of who we are and a greater deal of self-respect.  maybe we'd stop giving it away for free and set real prices that revolve around capturing our heart instead of ravaging our bodies?

i think most black women know and appreciate our physical assets but many of us see them as beneficial through black lenses.  if we're attractive, we're attractive period...right?  if a white woman who is sloppy/refined, fat/skinny, hick/uppity, assless/bumpy is attractive and sexy to a black man, then it should stand to reason that women are sexy...period?  having a big ass isn't enough to keep 'em...it can be a means to catch them, black or white, though.

why is it that we've been told by the media, by our communities, by ourselves that black women are an exception to the "(hetero-)men love women" rule?  we've been indoctrinated by the notion that non-black men don't find us sexy.  sure, they'd do halle berry or beyonce type in a new york minute but fantasia or jennifer hudson?...they'd get done too but guess who ain't coming home to dinner?  but what of those men who proudly and openly love black women?  they must have alterior motives or simply put, they're racist because they only want sex...right?

where we don't need white validation, we need white validation.  we don't wholly control the media.  we can't force companies to put dark faces with natural hair on their packaging or in their commercials.  if the default is lighter and brighter, if historical roles persist, then how can black folk ever be regarded as anything but "the other?"

so if you see me walking down the street with my white beau and you start to cry...i'll walk on by.  i like that he's not shy about his attraction to women...negroes included.  no matter what the intellectuals proclaim, his being attracted to my body doesn't come from some recessive slave master gene.  it comes from being a man who appreciates a sexy woman.  black or white, i'm hot...and i shouldn't be ashamed of that and neither should he.

why black relationships fail

i was reading a blog over at naked with socks on that posed the following question.  i commented over at the blog but decided to add my musings here for your enjoyment.  the questions posed at the end of the blog were...

What did you think of the guest blogger’s thoughts on the problems within the African American community? How often do we hold ourselves back from being emotionally ready to find love? Instead of asking what’s wrong with the men and women you come across, how often do you look within yourself and your own issues as the root problem? Do you think that people’s reliance on “types” limits them when it comes to finding a life partner? Do you think dating outside the race is good or bad for the African American community? Do you think that Black love is dying? If so, why?

in my view, black relationships fail because...

1. too many black women are pitiful, sad creatures who have little or no respect for the sanctity of marriage and/or monogamous relationships.  far too many of us have justified sleeping with unavailable men.  so when you have women giving it away and expecting nothing in return, it makes it all the more difficult for a good woman to keep and find a good man.

2. statistically, black men have no reason to rush into any form of a long-term commitment.  when you don't have a ticking biological clock, when you're a statistical commodity, why would you feel compelled to demonstrate and develop worthwhile relationships?  so many black men spend a great deal of their time playing the game and stunt their emotional development by not learning how to love someone outside of themselves...including their own children. in short, too many black men are immature, selfish bastards and that does not bode well for success.

3.  black women are racists.  most black women refuse to give up on the idea of marrying a black man...even at the expense of being alone.  statistically, more of us go to college and obtain higher degrees in greater frequency than our male counterparts and for some reason, if push came to shove, we'd rather date the mechanic on the corner than consider the white dude at the water cooler in the three piece suit who knows that it's "shrimp" not "skrimps."

4.  black womens' self-imposed racial dating restrictions and fear of being alone has done something to us.  we done turned crazy!  either we're alone, bitter and unapproachable due to years of rejection and ever declining standards, or when we do finally find a black man that's slightly more than a booty call, we have the potential of becoming down right psychotic.  you see now that we have the brotha, we have to hold on to him for dear life.  without our constant nagging and endless supply of unprotected sex, he might go away and that can't happen because we lust him so much.

if we luck out and he doesn't leave on his own, the chicks described in point 1 are always a sniff away so there's this element of trench warfare in our relationships and God forbid we lose the battle and it turns out he is cheating.  we can't leave...we're obligated to stay because statistically, the next guy is *really* going to be a jackass so we gotta stand by our man and while doing so, that infidelity can easily be mitigated by breaking into his email, calling every number in his phone, slashing his tires and in extreme cases grabbing the nearest smoldering substance or sharp object.

i could go on and on but in essence, black relationships fail mostly due to the failures of black women as a whole.  we have collectively allowed our men to use, abuse, cheat and belittle us.  as a result, we're bitter, suspicious and angry due to our ever-decreasing standards. 

black relationships will stop failing when black women stop failing to realize it's us who control the outcome of our relationships.  he can't drink the milk if the kitchen's closed and if he wants to open it up he'll realize the importance of taking out the garbage.  until then, surprise, surprise!  that's why house smells like shit.

you're too black for him

i sent a link to the post i wrote earlier today to one of my friends.  her reply is blog worthy...

oare you worried that you might be too black for him?o

too black?  what dat?  i suppose i can come off as far more passionate about race issues in comparison to most but i'm not sure that's a deal breaker...at least it shouldn't be.  the reality is, i'd be just as passionate about cultural issues if i were with a black dude and frankly, i've dated quite a few of them that i was "too black" for so black or white, i'm too much for most men.

i'm passionate.  i feel and i feel strongly...period.  add that to the fact that i'm stubborn as hell (taurean here) and you get one bullheaded gal.  and before you go there, no, i'm not talking "strong black woman" as that tends to be interpreted as "attitude" these days.  instead, i'm simply a woman who knows what her likes and dislikes are and when asked, will tell you about them.  but that's beside the point.  i mean, what if he's "too white" for me?

after all, he owns guns.  he hunts bambi and daffy.  he's right of center.  he listens to glenn beck and other hate mongers (he's gonna love that last jab).  so given that we come from very different backgrounds and he has his own sense of racial pride and cultural belonging, who's to say that his passion for his people won't get in the way too?

fortunately, i've begun to realize that in the grand scheme of things, racial differences are petty and often get in the way of our developing close personal relationships.  in college for example, my roommate and i were very close and shared common interests...as long as we were in the dorm.  once we stepped foot outside our room, it's as if we were strangers.  we didn't eat together or go to the same parties.  i didn't know her friends, she didn't know mine. 

looking back, i think our inability to connect in the real world had to do with the fact that in a way, we failed to share ourselves completely.  with my black girlfriends i don't hold back.  there's no topic that i have to tip-toe around.  there's no subject that is taboo because the assumption from day one is that we're more alike than we are different.  the same can't always be said for white women.

my point is, i want to be myself around him and he around me.  i don't want to hold back.  if i have a thought that is pro-black, ultra-liberal, anti-guns, pro-PETA...i want to know that i can unabatedly share my thoughts and opinions without fear of pushing him away.  after all, i'm looking for a best friend and how can that happen if i avoid being "too much" of me?

what's worse? white hair or a white man?

i was talking to one of my best friends today about the fact that i created this blog.  she didn't seem to understand my dilemma.  for her, it wasn't enough that one, i met him via the internet and two, he's white.  for most folks that'd be enough but she felt that it didn't matter what others thought or felt because all that matters is how he and i feel about one another..."awwwh!"  while she's right, i reminded her that there's a point number three that looms overhead...i'm proud to be black.

yeah i know, that sounds so cliche but you have to understand that for the past decade or so i've prided myself on inspiring others to embrace themselves naturally.  i wanted black women, young and old, to stop engaging in the monthly self-mutilation ritual known as the "hair relaxer."  it actually sickens me to hear talk of touch-ups and kiddie perms.  in fact, i think relaxing a child's hair before the age of 12 is a hair short of child abuse...yeah i said it.

for those who don't know, relaxers have a pH of 13-14, depending on the brand.  pH refers to a 0-14 scale that measures whether a substance is acidic (battery acid is 0), neutral (distilled water is 7) or a base (drain cleaner is 14).  so given that a relaxer is a ph of 13-14, using them would be akin to putting Drano, bleach or oven cleaner on your skin and allowing it to rest for 10 or more minutes.  think about that for a moment.  imagine what drano does to the gunk and hair that's in your clogged pipes.  it's obviously eating away at the grease and gunk so i wonder what hair relaxers eat away at?  yeah, you guessed it, skin and flesh...yum!

where no sane person would slather Drano on their child's skin and certainly not their head, that thing that houses their brain, black women around the world do the equivalent on a 4-6 week basis...and not only to themselves, but to their daughters as well.  frankly, it's sick and i have been known to get on my soap box from time to time and argue with friends and family about their lack of self-respect and moral obligation to themselves and their children.

i wish you could sense the passion i feel right now as i so desire to motivate others to love thyself in thine own image and all that jazz but then i imagine saying these things with the same fervor and intensity as my white beau sits by my side.  is there an inherent hypocrisy or am i reading too much into it?  what will others say as i espouse the virtues of natural hair and the impact it has on empowering black folk while simultaneously rubbin' on my sexy white man's bald head?  what will others say when/if we have children and i speak of the importance of showing young black girls that they are beautiful as God has made them while simultaneously putting pigtails in my daughter's curly poofs?

i just wonder if i can maintain my sense of purpose to inspire and motivate others to act on the principled and moral objection to the long held belief that "white is right?"  will others stop listening because i am the antithesis of my message?  you tell me, does who i chose to love prohibit me from being a voice in my racial and cultural community?

where part of me is plagued from time to time by these questions, they are fleeting because where the questions are numerous and complex, the answer is quiet simple...all that matters is how he and i feel about one another..."awwwh!"

in search of my king

the other day i was at my nephew's 7th birthday party when his mom approached and showed me a picture that he'd taken with one of his classmates earlier that day at school.  there was my nephew with his arm around a lil' blonde haired girl who was all smiles. apparently, she asked to have the photo taken because as i'm sure you've guessed, my nephew comes from gorgeous stock :)

with that said, some of you will ask, what's the big deal?  they're 7 year-olds.  it's the age of Obama.  can't we all just get along?  and in spite of what my friends, family and casual observers might think, this is how i feel and have always felt but for some reason, i have a hard time convincing folks i'm not racist.  maybe it's the fact that i have dreadlocks?...and am dark-skinned?...and my house is filled with African art?...and I know who H. Rap Brown is?...and I have African music in my CD collection?...and study African culture for pleasure?

i could never figure out exactly why but long ago i came to the realization that by merely being who i choose to be that i've fallen victim to American cultural stereotypes...i am a physical embodiment of a militant, proud, strong black woman and i give off this impression without uttering a solitary word.  so i guess that's why my would-be sister-in-law chose to approach me with the photo instead of the other 15 or so guests at the party.  clearly I would find the image objectionable.

now in fairness, i think she was making a funny but i wonder what she expected my reaction to be?  maybe she thought i'd be like my mom (may she rest in peace) and say something to the effect of, "don't bring any white girls home."  to be honest with you, that was in part my reaction (i'm unlearning and it takes time damnit), but i also found myself feeling oddly uncomfortable...what will they say next year if there's a white dude at table?

for the past year or so i've been flirting with dating outside my race.  if you ain't know, 70% of black women are single, never married.  looking at those odds, i'd have a better chance at powerball than i would finding my King.  thus i realized that if i do want marriage and children, i gotta increase my odds of finding my one and only.  i have to step outside myself and where i've always envisioned myself with a beautiful Black King, maybe, just maybe that's not what the cards have outlined for me.

so i joined an interracial dating website, i chatted up a few guys and actually came close to meeting one of them.  the initial attempts were duds (a few were actually CRAZY) and just when i thought to give up on this fantasy idea that a culturally aware black woman could date a white American male, the fates called my bluff.  i met someone...someone special.

for the first time since i've been considering the possibility of dating a non-black male, i have the sense that this is not a mere experiment or a way to pass time on the net.  this could be the real thing and i owe it to myself and my object of interest to not treat this like a game of Bullshit (card game for those who don't know).  and what's really odd is that i haven't felt this way about anyone, black, brown or white, in a long time...hell, ever.

it's not that my clock is ticking, that i want mixed babies, that i'm betraying my race, that i'm frustrated and angry at black men or that i want my mother to turn over in her grave...it's that i honestly think i've met someone special and who i genuinely relate to.  and O-M-G, he's white!

so this blog will be about me and the development of this "relationship."  it will be about my attempt to reconcile my longheld desire to raise strong, proud, culturally and historically aware black children with the possibility of raising children who are racially and culturally mix.  and most importantly, it will be about me as a woman, an independent woman, learning to open herself up to friendship, vulnerability, understanding and that four letter word...love.  i hope you'll join me on this journey because in the end i hope to be a better woman...and no longer a statistic...AMEN!