Interracial dating white man
Even more hurtful was the night he and I were standing outside a bar in Bushwick and someone we both knew started making racist comments.
While I tried to explain to this man why what he was saying was offensive, my boyfriend stood there in silence.
In those moments, I’ve wished to be sitting in front of someone who could relate.
Despite knowing I can feel intimacy with white guys, right now what divides us feels like a chasm.
Since Trump was elected, I’ve felt paradoxically alienated by white people finding or doubling down on their commitment to change.
Somehow their politicization has begun to seem cartoonish, filled with performance and self-congratulation. But it wasn’t only on election night that translating experience felt so fraught.
Every white man I’ve dated has, sometimes consciously and sometimes not, asked me to explain to them some aspect of blackness.
Whenever I’m standing on a subway platform, I play this game: I hover near a person I think is cute and try to slowly make my way over to him so we get in the same car. Like most of the girls in my class, I wanted attention from the boys.
When we do, I look his way every so often to see if he’s staring back, to see if we’ve got what my best friend and I call “the affinity,” a mutual acknowledgement that we one another. But while they chased after blondes and brunettes, I was ignored.
But the less work I have to do to make him understand how I feel, the better chance I have of getting through the next four years with my head still on.
I recently came across a Facebook post asking Black people what they thought of a cartoon image depicting a Black woman in a relationship with a white man. Even though I, personally, generally don't care about Black people dating outside of the race, I, as a Black women, ABSOLUTELY saw where many of those people were coming from.