It’s a Sunday night in August and since I am currently not working (see previous post for more details ..) I am fortunate enough to experience a reprieve from the so called “Sunday scaries.” My mom is in town visiting from Philly and we’re up watching “Black is King” by Beyonce because I insisted that she wait until she came here to watch so we could take in Beyonce’s latest creative masterpiece together. Having my mom visit is always fun, and now its particularly interesting because I live with my boyfriend of almost two years, so when she comes to visit she stays with us. Whenever we all go places together, I cannot help but wonder how we look to the everyday passerby. My mom and I are Black and my boyfriend is white. It feels weird to even type that because usually you’d just see it and know, but it provides obvious context in this situation.
Sometimes I find myself explaining to people that I did not go looking for a white man to date, that it just happened. I feel the need to explain that because way too many people have implied that I must have been on the white man search. “I need to go find my white guy like you did,” is actually one of my favorites simply due to its absurdity. More often, however, I feel like I’ve had to have the same conversation over and over again with people who have known me for a long time because my identity in college and even a bit in high school was so tied to my racial identity. I went to a predominately white college in Ohio where I served as the president of the Black Student Union my senior year. I also had no qualms with calling out white people (and still don’t) when they said and did problematic things. Because of this, I think that people actually thought that I did not like white people. Imagine that. Having the audacity to call out offensive, disrespectful and downright hurtful behaviors at the hands of your white peers means that you don’t or didn’t like the entire race. OKAY. I digress.
The other day I had a long conversation with a friend about this very topic. Black men simply do not get the same reaction when they are with white women. In fact, if a black woman even comments on that situation, we’re bitter angry and/or jealous. The nuances of the two scenarios are different (more to come on that in a later blog, or perhaps even a multi part series of posts). When a black man dates a white woman it seems totally fine, almost expected. When a black woman dates a white man however ..well you already know what/how people think. I know that I do not owe anyone an explanation about my relationship, but sometimes I feel like I have to dispel certain ideas pertaining to this particular situation because it makes me cringe at the idea that people might actually believe that I went out looking specifically for a white man.
The amount of times people have told me that that they “would have never guessed,” that I am with a white man or that they “just can’t see it.” I am not even sure what that means. Maybe they are referring to my Afrocentric permanent hairstyle choice of locs, or the black power symbol that I have tattooed on my arm, or perhaps even because of the way I talk. Only the people making those statements can tell you what they meant by them because please believe I usually choose not to engage in those types of conversations. What people who make those comments generally do not know is that I almost decided to eliminate white men from my dating pool altogether because of the types of ridiculous gross comments too many of them made to me on dating apps (okay yet another post for the future will likely dive into that one ..).
These first few posts of the blog are meant to serve as an introduction into the various parts of my life because I will reference them in later posts. There are a lot of things that I’ve wanted to get off my chest about being a black woman in an and interracial relationship and making a video about the topic felt a little salacious for reasons that I cannot pin down at the moment. I will however, continue to write about it because it is obviously a big part of my life. This is still an adjustment of sorts for myself and writing though that helps me process.
Maya Blogs Again 