Showing posts with label interracial relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interracial relationships. Show all posts

Friday, May 14, 2010

[Guest Post] Max, I am a white woman who dates Black men, but I absolutely abhor other white women who do the same. What do you think about that?


One thing I really enjoying about blogging is that you come in contact with a wide range of people you might never have come into contact with otherwise.  JuJuBe, a brand new voice in the brown blogosphere, is one of those persons.  Please do check out her site and give her encouragement.

Anyway, we had a discussion around a post I did almost a year ago entitled “Black Mothers, Black Sons, and Little White Girls.”  I found her take on the issue interesting, so I had her write it up. 

I really dislike seeing white women with Black men. Although I do not have children yet, I have always said I would be extremely upset if I had a son, and he brought home a white woman. The thing is, I AM a white woman. AND, I date Black men. So, why do I have an issue with OTHER white women dating Black men?


First of all, I find that most of the white women who DO date Black men do it for all the wrong reasons. Either they look at dating a Black man as some sort of  exciting new  adventure, OR they believe certain myths about Black male sexuality, OR they are trying to rebel against their parents, OR they want a "bad boy" and to them all Black men are "bad". It is not too often that I see white women with a Black man simply because she loves him.


The second issue I have with BM/WF couples is that MOST of the time, the white female wants NOTHING to do with Black females, and in fact disrespects Black females every chance she gets. She insists that if a Black female disagrees with something she says or does it is because all Black females are jealous of her. 

I have heard it time and time again: a white woman saying they she is not racist because she dates a Black men, and in the next breath go on to enumerate the reasons why she is better than a Black woman.


I also cringe when I hear that white women get offended when someone says her child is Black, protesting that her child is, in fact, biracial. It seems to me that they think that being biracial is somehow better than being Black.  And, they often insist on raising their children in their own little lily white world, surrounded only by their WHITE family, living in neighborhoods where their child is the only person of color, having their child attend schools with only white children.


Another issue I have with IR dating is with Black men who ONLY date white women. They give all sorts of reasons for why they prefer white women, and it usually has nothing to do with love, or even with attraction. To them, dating a white woman is "easier" than dating a Black woman. They have the impression that they can do whatever they want and not have to answer for it if they choose to be with only white women. For this reason, I will not date a man who ONLY dates white women.

A Black man who disrespects all Black women and embraces a white woman is disrespecting women as a whole because he is dating a woman based on a stereotyped assumption of behavior. Plus, these men often allow white women to disrespect Black woman, including his mothers, sisters, aunts, and grandmothers. This is deplorable.


Personally, I see so much racism in the white community, including from people who are in interracial relationships, that when I have a child, I would not want my child to date a white man or woman. But of course, I cannot say I would feel that way if the situation actually presented itself. Maybe if I got to know the individual, they may show me something that makes me change my mind about them. 

I know, from my experience, friends and family members of men I date are often reluctant to accept me, for good reason. If 95% of white people ARE racists, which I believe to be true, then it is only natural for the friends and families of my boyfriends to be wary of me until I prove myself to them.


And, don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am perfect by any means. I grew up in my little insular white world believing the same stereotypes that are forced down our throats by the media, the educational system, friends and neighbors. Even though my parents were not blatantly racist, this society teaches white children that they are somehow better than other races. Even when it is not put in terms of race, the implication is there. It is there in the television shows we watch, the books we read, the things we are taught in school.

Personally, when I reached college, I realized there was a whole world out there that I knew nothing about, and I was determined to counter my own ignorance with the truth. Most white women do not feel the need to do that. The think that by having a few Black friends, or dating a Black man, they are “proving” they are not racist. Yet they still hold all of these prejudices near and dear to their hearts.


Until a woman is willing to reject and counter the racism in herself, she really should not be dating or marrying Black men, and she certainly should not be raising a Black child!

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Can Jungle Fever Drive You Crazy?

“One is very crazy when in love.” --Sigmund Freud

I said that this week I would throw out all the theory and just speak from my experience. So, here goes.

Not too long ago, I had lunch with three of my colleagues, all of whom are black women. Early into the lunch, the conversation turned to another colleague who was absent, a black male who after getting divorced from his black wife of nine months was making a very valiant effort to love every white woman in the world. And they were not at all happy about this development.

Now, I know when to keep my mouth shut, so the whole time I just kept my head down. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a salad that fast. But suddenly I heard nothing but silence. Their conversation had ceased.

When I looked up, the three of them were looking at me with such looks of derision on their faces that for a moment I looked around for an exit.

One of them finally spoke.

“Look at that, y’all. The cat seems to have gotten this soulbrother’s tongue. He’s unusually quiet on this one. Maybe he’s got a white woman bone or two in his closet.”

I sensed that a trap was being set, but I didn’t know how to avoid it.

“Well, I see nothing wrong with inter-racial relationships if that’s your thang, but I have never been in an inter-racial relationship of any kind.”

The trap was ready to snap shut now.

“You’re telling me you spent your early twenties in Europe, and you never had any type relationship with a white woman? Who you think you talking to? Boo-boo the Fool? Samantha Sausagehead?”

Laughter and high fives all around. The trap was sprung. I was caught in the snare. Where was that waiter with my drink?

“But the women I had relationships with when I was there were not white. They were European, German and French mostly.”

Now I faced three blank Negro-man-please stares. Only then did I realize the paradox of my statement, and tried to explain. But they were not having it.

What they could not understand was my explanation of my conception of whiteness. When in the United States, my conception of whiteness is subtended by a history of discrimination, of degradation, of oppression, of violence. For that reason, it becomes hard for me to imagine entering into a romantic relationship with a white American woman.

Not that I hate white women. I do not. Not that I don’t find white women attractive. I do. Lately something has happened to white women to make their behinds swell exponentially. But I cannot imagine giving myself over to a white woman like love, true love, requires one to do.

And when I speak of love, I’m talking the real thing. Not that infatuation love. Not that lustful love. But that Al Green “Make you do right, make you do wrong” love. That love that makes you give yourself over to another. That makes you drop all pretense, lower all facades.

Sigmund Freud once wrote something to the effect that if insanity is the condition of one being out of one’s mind, then love is the very first instance of insanity. To love is to vacate your mind in order to reside outside yourself with the mind of another. (Or something like that.)

In other words, love makes you vulnerable. Very vulnerable. Love makes you crazy.

The history of violent racism in this country causes me to put my guard up, to always be looking over my shoulder. To always be wary. I find it very difficult to drop my guard, to allow the vulnerability requisite to enter into a relationship with a white woman.

But notice I said “I find it difficult,” and not “never.” I stopped saying “never” a long time ago. Because the moment we utter never, the situation arises that will severely put “never” to the test.

I guess I’m just an old romantic. I actually don’t believe we consciously choose who we fall in love with. I think that love can irrupt in the strangest, most unlikely places. I believe that you simply meet a person. You get to know that person. And little by little you share small fragments of your mind, your person, with the person until finally one day you look up and you’re completely out of your mind. You’re absolutely crazy.

So, if I ever had to choose another mate for life, and should that mate perhaps be white, I would have to really go crazy, absolutely crazy. She would have to drive me out of my mind.

But isn’t that what we’re all looking for anyway? Someone who is so very special that they ultimately drive us absolutely crazy? Someone who will drive you out of your mind?

What are your views on inter-racial relationships? Are you in an inter-racial relationship now? What do you have to add to the conversation?

And please come back tomorrow when we will look for the bones in your closet.

Other blog articles of interest:

Max Reddick, “Black Mothers, Black Sons, and Little White Girls.

Von, “Are You Still Black If You Marry White.

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