Stella
DEFAULT
You must be logged in to view this content. Please click the button below to log in.
LoginThe committing of a hidden life event to the written word. I used to wonder if my reluctance was driven by shame, or simply my incredulity at what took place all those years ago. Now, I think that it is those things mostly, but also a hell of a lot more. Over the last few years, particularly in the recent crosswinds of our racial and cultural political climate, this life event bubbled to the surface of my memory, never quite boiling over. I almost never mention it to women. A few decades ago, when I was just becoming a published author, I was discussing projects with various companies. In one, I dealt with a white male creative, and, when he left, I was assigned to someone else, a white woman.
Interracial relationships in the American culture are becoming accepted day by day, but it is still a sensitive topic to discuss. It becomes even more sensitive when that relationship involves a black man with a white woman. Even thought this is one of the most common types of interracial relationship, it is also considered one of the most controversial. The reason there is so much attention on this practical type of relationship is because both sides of the playing field, meaning white and black people, have strong feelings towards the combination of a black man with a white women. Out of the two, interracial relationships are more so looked down on in the white community, for the simple fact of image. No white male wants to go tell his golfing buddies that his daughter brought home a black man. Like a lot of people they tend to live their lives in the eyes of what others think, and they feel that if their child did bring home a black boy they would become a laughing stock, as well as having to face the hardships that they feel is yet to come.
It was at an Indian restaurant in Manhattan about 10 years ago when they told me. I was having dinner with a friend from work and two of her friends who'd all met at Howard University.
As my primary schoolmates drooled over the pubescent charms of Grange Hill's Tucker Jenkins, I preferred his luckless mixed-race sidekick Benny. Likewise, in adulthood, my choice of partner, fictional or not, has remained steadfastly black. My preference doesn't stem from an eroticisation of black men or a distaste for white men; rather, it is due to the need for a comfort zone - a relatively safe place where, as a black woman, race won't impinge on my personal relationships as it so often does in daily life. Call it an unashamed love of my own blackness, combined with an ever-present fear of racism, and you're somewhere close to an explanation.
-
6/27/2024
-