I can talk about this. I’m black.
A newish friend, a white woman, recently told me one of her dirty little secrets. She’s 37 and has only ever dated and slept with black men.
She lives in a predominantly white town but says black men have always been part of her life experience. Since the attraction has always been mutual, she’s always been open to living outside the box.
She can’t deny her reality.
She wanted to know my perspective as another black woman. One of her other black friends says she doesn’t particularly agree with this “lifestyle” because, according to her, black people have not yet healed from the impacts of colonialism.
Black couples need a chance to experience the kind of love only a black person can give to another black person to move forward. More profound spiritual and generational healing is yet to be had within the black community, and that safe space can only be cultivated in the container of black love.
Ultimately white women need to leave black men alone and allow them to pursue black women first.
Damn, what an exciting angle I have yet to consider. I can see and respect her perspective.
My sister mentioned that she stopped dating white men the other day because she says those she dated haven’t cared enough to get what it means to be black.
That’s her truth and valid experience.
I’m also reminded of a controversial quote by Dr. Umar Johnson from a couple of years ago. He essentially said black men who married outside their race don’t care enough about “their people” to be with a black woman.
I could say a few things about this quote besides him not using all-inclusive language, but I’ll only focus on one thing at a time. We’re not all caught up on the many letters representing the LGTBQIA2S+ community.
I tend to lean towards not taking things seriously, and I certainly don’t take the idea of race seriously.