—he would be appalled at a Black woman dating a White man, for the same reason. I have to wonder why some men whose Blackness seems so very part of, so essential to, so inescapable from, what they achieve and the trendsetting marks they make upon this color-saturated world—Sammy Davis, Jr., Quincy Jones, Cornel West, Tiger Woods, Julian Bond, Sidney Poitier, Harry Belafonte—find themselves in relationships with White women.Whether it’s because of what they talk about or what barriers they broke, the fact that they are embraced with so much Black pride that it’s like wearing a mantle of royalty then seems to carry a question mark with it that says, “Huh?! Then I have to wonder why I even give a second thought to trying to look from the outside in at somebody else’s relationships.
Objectified and victimized by Massa as his belly warmer-on-demand, the Black woman’s sexuality was taken from her, brutally, in those days as the Black man stood helplessly, painfully by, lest he lose his life trying to defend her honor.
Theoretically, slavery’s remnants then resulted in generations of Black men who either work to protect Black women’s honor–or those who reach for Missy, the forbidden fruit.
Oh, I’m embarrassed to be caught on that judge’s bench.
Truth be told, in theory, I am in favor of interracial relationships. I’m absolutely sick of the little box you’re supposed to check on this or that form that identifies your race–yet at the same time I embrace the One-Drop Rule because I think it shows how stupid its architects were.
Click here for a chance to win a free copy and read below for a brief excerpt. The right age, the right kind of job, and he was definitely trying to holla. Chocolate and vanilla, swirled in the dating world.
By//Veronica Waters He was tall—important for a lot of women, but for one who stands 5’9”, crucial—and even in her five-inch heels, he towered over her. I’ve often wondered why the swirl I do see seems so lopsided.
Not sure if it’s something in the DNA or the pheromones, but there is an innate pull that is often felt in what seems the fiber of one’s being when THAT Black man comes near.
Don’t make me try to analyze why the blue-eyed soul types or the silent, strong types, the ones who just WALK like they just have that som’n som’n, are the White men who make me swoon.
I embrace the One-Drop Rule, however and by the way, because I think putting the “Black” label on someone who “looks” White shows how inane the social construct of race can be to begin with.
I chuckle at the White coworkers who believe our colleague is White when everyone who’s Black in the office thinks she’s passing.
This week [March 18-22, 2013] is giving away copies of Where Did Our Love Go: Love and Relationships in the African-American Community.