Rishire Writes

I’m not sure how many times I’ve mentioned this, but I grew up in an incredibly milky part of the south if you know what I mean (white people everywhere!). As an African American, I’m not going to lie, I was often afraid of racism and ostracism. I went to a private school (scholarships woo!), and I made friends just like everyone else, but I always had that nagging feeling that I was so obviously different. I was almost always the only black person in the group, and as much as I tried not to make it a thing, it felt like a thing to me. My friends loved the beach and swimming, and I was afraid to get my hair wet because it would expand and make me look like shit. I spent hours working on my hair so it would be as straight as everyone else’s and looked somewhat manageable, while my friends could wash their hair everyday, sleep on it wet, and come to school looking like Ariel. I thought about my differences ALL THE TIME, but I never let it show, I never let my friends know how outside I felt or how hard I was trying to seem like I belonged. I still don’t know if I ever really belonged.

Gong through puberty and aging as all people do but as a minority, I was bound to develop feelings for guys of a different race than me. Those were really the only guys I knew, the only guys I ever saw, and the only guys I ever interacted with. I couldn’t help it then, and I can’t help it now. I have a preference, and I try to broaden it, try to say it’s not the color of their skin that attracts me but the appearance of their face (hey, I’m shallow; and you aren’t?!) and their personality that did it for me, but if I’m being honest, their race is what initially draws me in. I don’t want to say I’m afraid of black guys, I’m just very much not used to them and I haven’t interacted with any that weren’t either homeless, super old, pervy, or really weird. I don’t know why. Even after moving up north, my friend groups kind of remained devoid of other black people. They got more diverse, though, throwing in Asians, Hispanics, and Mixed races, but they did not include black people. It’s not because I actively avoid black people; I really don’t come in contact with many, and that in itself is a whole other post.

The way I felt around my friends who I didn’t want to sleep with got 100x worse when I was with someone I did want to sleep with. I always felt and still feel like there’s no reason a guy I’m attracted to (re: a white guy) would be interested in me when there are so many nice, pretty, white girls around. I would have crushes and basically ignore them, because it all seemed so impossible. Like a thousand other girls, I was terrified of rejection, but unlike most of them, I felt like it was all I could ever get because of the color of my skin and theirs. Despite all of that, I wasn’t a prudish hermit. I went around like a person who goes around, if you know what I mean. I hooked up with my fair share of white guys, but it never went beyond that. As much fun as I was having doing all that, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something wrong with me. Why didn’t they want to date me or do anything with me, like, in public? Honestly, I felt incredibly ashamed and cheap, and I’ve carried that feeling with me ever since.

Coming to college, I wanted to be a different person. I didn’t want to be that initially meek girl who only opens up after months of getting to know her. I wanted to come out of the gate outgoing and effortlessly cool, and I think I succeeded somewhat. I had my fair share of romps whilst pursuing higher education, but again, it never went any further than that. I maintained that I was having fun and that I’m young – I don’t need to be tied down and dating. The thing is, I want to be tied down and dating, maybe even Christian Grey style (Jokes! So not into BDSM, but I’m super into Jamie Dornan’s face! Mmmm…). Being the socially inept humanoid I am, I had no idea how to go about pursuing that kind of relationship, so part of me thought I was putting out a hump-and-dump vibe. By senior year, I was ready to take things into my own hands and go after people with clear intentions. I went so far as to ask a guy out on a date, and that’s where the inspiration for this post came from. Sorry for the terribly long back story!

I met this really cute (white) guy in one of my classes, and I decided I was going to do it – I was going to ask him out. I built up my confidence by talking to myself and got a bit high, then called him on the phone (who does that?!). We talked for a bit, and at some point I asked him out (I don’t know! I was high!) He said something along the lines of sure, after our next class. I tried not to be too excited when I hung up, and I kept my self grounded with some good old fashioned self deprecation. I was really excited, though; I was practically crossing off the days on my calendar (I wasn’t). When the day came, I put on a casual pair of floral leggings and a slightly oversized sweater – didn’t want to look too eager. The date wasn’t a date at all. We went to a bar on campus and drank with another classmate. They went to some concert afterwards, and I went home to not cry. The next day he asked if I wanted to go out – get some dinner, then bar hop – and that’s where it all went to shit, or something like that.

I’m going to go straight to the point, because this post is already solid college essay length. We both got good and drunk, and words started coming out of his mouth that you would think someone wouldn’t just say to someone in the middle of a crowded bar. Without getting into any of the real dialogue that I remember word-for-word, he said, flat out, “I’m not attracted to black girls.” You can imagine how dead I was. This was my worst nightmare coming to life (exaggeration; of course I’m more afraid of spiders). I felt like I had been slapped in the face, and I so badly wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Instead I told him I was going to the bathroom then got lost in the crowd and danced with strangers until he found me. I’m a masochist, so I kept hanging out with him and blurred some lines, but that’s besides the point.

The question I’m posing is whether or not his preference for Caucasians makes him racist or merely choosey. I know deep down I’m guilty of the same specificity, but I refuse to put myself into an attraction corner; I would never say I’m completely not attracted to any group of people (other than ugly, stupid people), and I feel like that’s what sets us apart. Honestly, I was upset for myself, the thought that he didn’t and wouldn’t like me because I’m black, a fear I’ve harbored my whole life, killed me, because I liked him, but what’s really wrong with what he said is how much he meant it and the implications it has on him as a person. He has decided this for himself, decided that women with dark skin tones are inherently unattractive, and that’s what I find racist. I completely understand having preferences and “types”, but they’re not concrete and shouldn’t be race specific. Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but that’s on a case-by-case basis, not an overarching generalization of a people. Just as he can’t help not being attracted to me (because I’m black), I can’t help being attracted to him (because he’s hot. Damn him). Damn him!