Racist dating guy
I can see now that, this early in my relationship with Kevin and my own personal development, I was still in a lot of denial about what racism is and how it manifests.
Ironically, choosing to stay with Kevin after I realized he wasn’t immune to racism, and later choosing to marry him, helped me sort that out.
I KNEW there’d be some fucked up assumption about Black people that I’d have to dismantle and then beat my white date over the head with — thereby ending whatever the fuck we were doing together. When he passed, all that energy I’d used protecting myself started to dissipate and my walls softened. I was willing and capable of giving people opportunities to be a part of my life, and I was also willing to do the work to keep them there.
That’s why I let Kevin in, but it’s not why I kept him around. He didn’t minimize my accomplishments; we weren’t competing, and my success did not undermine his masculinity.
I’m not sure how far we were into our relationship, but that was the first moment I wondered if this was a huge mistake.
To this day, I look back and question how and why I stayed.
But it didn’t negate the fact that Kevin is white — and not just white, white.
He has ash blond hair and pale, easily sunburned skin. The more serious our relationship got, the more I was spending half my time — at least — surrounded by white people.
I’m not religious; I didn’t want kids; and I sure as hell didn’t want someone in my home that felt like they had any control over my decisions. In a society where people are “hanging out” and “chilling” and “hooking up” — meaning anything from a light kissing session to a night of full-blown sex — being direct was important..I’d met white men who wanted to demean and defile me, white men who wanted to dominate or be dominated by me, and white men who just wanted to check a Black woman off their sexual bucket list.Not to mention the ones who thought that being with me somehow made them “edgy” or proved they weren’t racist.My weapons tend to be off-label weapons, like my keys, a pen, or my purse.
I only had one friend who carried a gun, and nobody carried knives. When I pointed out that they were all carrying weapons, they laughed — didn’t I know the knives were just for opening boxes?I could have been arrested or killed for carrying something like that, regardless of what I planned to do with it — unlike them.They wouldn’t face any consequences for bringing weapons into a restaurant; after all, they were white and the restaurant was mostly white.I’d met my share of white men looking for a “Nubian goddess” (their words, not mine).