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My friends and family have teased me saying “Watch – you’ll end up with a white man.”
Despite knowing my anxiety-borderline-fear of dealing with all the pitfalls of interracial dating (opposition, ignorance, festishism, discrimination, just to name a few), they say this more because of my tastes.
I love Queens of the Stone Age.
They (specifically I should say Joshua Homme) are my favorite music artist.
Don’t get me wrong, Beyoncè is my favorite in multiple categories: as a vocalist, as a performer, as a brand, as a WOMAN! But the music I can enjoy 24/7 – regardless of my mood or where I am or what I’m doing – QOTSA.
But where are the black people who love QOTSA?
I know they exist, but finding one another is difficult.
I’m not saying that black fans of QOTSA are more valuable, I’m just saying black fans of QOTSA are more valuable – to me.
Who wouldn’t want to share stories of blackness and segue into stories of QOTSA?
Can this black guy love Tony Hawk games? And associated media like “Jackass” and “Viva La Bam” and other things promoting white-skater-boy-foolery?
Quentin Tarantino is one of my favorite directors and writers, so we have to use words like “characterization” and “plot time versus story time” when discussing his work.
Archer is in my top 5 for best TV shows of all time. Aisha Tyler is my role model (I forget her husband is white…) and Jon Benjamin is genius (“O’grady” is also top 5, “Home Videos” isn’t but definitely in the top 20, “Bob’s Burgers” is creeping on the list). Knowledge of every reference is a must.
Can he know all the lyrics to “Butter” by Tribe just as well as “Mama” by MCR?
How hard is it to find a black guy who just so happens to have interests that go against mainstream, stereotyped tastes?
Apparently pretty difficult.
In my case I guess my campus can only have so many of these hypothetical men at a time. (Too many and people would run around thinking everyone is an individual and not subject to the same experiences just because of race).
I’m not saying I would never date outside my race, nor do I discourage others to, but I see black as comfort. A basic foundation of similarity that I can use as a foothold to more confidently pursue a deeper relationship.
That’s pretty speak for I ain’t gotta deal with basic bigotry and ignorance – at least – I assume there’s a lower risk.
I’ve kinda explained my feelings previously on This is why I’m moving to London.
I’m black. He’s black. Rock solid start. (And yes the hardcore pro black resistant inside says “I’m black. He’s black. Black family saved.”)
I’m black. He’s [insert color – but add white for most extreme level of difficulty]. I’m trying not to freak out because I’m intelligent enough to realize that race is a social construct and love and trust and other words like that are the real foundation of a relationship not color and not all guys will view me as a fetish nor have parents that threaten to disown their son and if I truly want to practice what I preach I shouldn’t judge books by their covers and I definitely shouldn’t under any circumstance give one flying you-know-what about what people think of me – BUT I’M TERRIFIED.
It’s one thing to have multiracial-cultural friends, or even to love on the multiracial-cultural ones that have been brought into your family, but to fall in love yourself?
In comes one of the realest pieces on interracial relationships I’ve read (From A Wildflower no less *shameless plug*) and I get oh-so-eloquently treated about my hangups.
Ashley makes it sound so easy. And the way she breaks it down is just as effortless.
Her words make me think I should cut the interracial out of interracial dating.
Rewind to mid November where I’m out eating with a girlfriend of mine at Butcher & The Burger.
We’re talking boys – big surprise – and the guy who took our order leaves the register to check on us.
I’m a little surprised because even though this is a nicer burger place, I’ve never experienced or even seen staff being this helpful.
He’s really nice, so I smile and say we’re doing okay.
My girl Ellen and I gab for a couple hours, and he makes periodical stops by the table. The longest was to discuss how MGMT played a show in Chicago a few weeks ago because he saw us grooving to “Electric Feel” (the only MGMT song I really like – fun fact). The last was at the end of his shift, coat on, headed towards the door, he stops to say bye and wish us a good night.
We watch him leave and walk past the window.
I ask Ellen if all that was for her or me.
She didn’t not go for it because he was white – she’s a sister that has the same mindset as Ashley when it comes to interracial dating and has zero hangups – but because she’s loving herself at the moment (and somewhat relooking at a summer thing).
I didn’t go for it because he was white (and probably saw me attack that burger like I just learned how to eat).
This guy was nice, cute, clearly interested, and just so happened to be white – so I just so happened to freeze.
And here I sit complaining about my nonexistent love life.
I’m not proud of myself.
But I am working on myself.
So even though I’ll continue to look for that black guy who loves QOTSA, I won’t limit myself to this hypothetical guy.
Cause hypothetical guy ain’t doing nothing for me right now.