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This is a satirical post and I am exaggerating to get a point across. Please do not take literally.
You’re walking down the street, and all of a sudden you see two guys. One approaches you. Baggy trousers showing off his pink boxers, big hoodie and a cocky grin. He whistles at you and you can practically hear ‘No Scrubs’ by TLC playing in the background.
Then you see the other guy. Nicely ironed jeans, duffel coat, scarf. Well groomed. He smiles at you and you smile back and he starts asking what the time is. Of course he doesn’t whistle; he knows he doesn’t need to act like a twat to get a girl’s attention. He simply attempts to have a civilised conversation with you.
Now, you’re a black woman who is of a certain social standing. A ‘middle class’ black woman. When I say ‘middle class’ I don’t mean necessarily economically. I mean you’re well-educated, ambitious, well-spoken and come from a respectful family. You went to uni with a bunch of wealthy white guys and gals. You’re happy to date a black guy, but they all dress like shit, sell weed ‘on road’, and constantly objectify you by slapping your arse in public and saying how much they love your thick brown curves.
It just won’t do, man. This is why you start turning to white guys. White guys dress better, talk properly and don’t constantly moan and groan about how everything is hard because of their race. They find you exotic in comparison to the pancake arsed Barbie dolls they’ve been dating. Best of all, they all have the same simple names. Mark/David/Sam/John/Charlie are all happily interchangeable!
Sure, white guys can’t dance and won’t stop touching your hair, but at least they have things going for themselves. And now they can boast to their friends about how progressive they are for having a black girlfriend (even if you’re considered ‘white’ to other black people, but more of that in a different post). Black guys, on the other hand, have big butts that can dagger you to good music, but you can’t go anywhere without them complaining every five minutes about how hard it is to be black. ‘Babe, I can’t go to the cinema because they don’t like black men. I don’t want to go to that park – the dogs there are always chasing after black men. You want to have black coffee? RACIST BITCH! How could you break my heart like this?!’
Your other black female friends will react in one of two ways. They’ll either wonder what the hell you’re doing with Clark Kent and his beans on toast (where my rice and chicken at?), or they’ll applaud you for coming to your senses. ‘You’ve finally realised, black guys are useless, deadbeat fools’, they say, shaking their head. ‘It really is a sad day when black women spurn black guys because white guys treat us better.’
Okay, plenty of black men aren’t deadbeat. The small percentage that weren’t raised on single mothers in shitty estates selling crack to Tony down at the garage are desirable, aren’t they? (Women are shallow creatures deep down that only care about appearances. Mr Man selling drugs could be rolling in cash while the guy dressed sharp lives in a cardboard box.) There’s got to be those black men that do have aspirations and know more than two hundred words (roughly the size of Malcolm X’s vocabulary when he first entered prison).
Hm. Sure, the black men that are well-dressed, hard-working and smart are a great catch and will happily have you on their arm, as well as Erica, Monica, Sandra, and Rita. (Just ask Tiger Woods or Ashley Cole.) They know they can get it, so they get all of it, chocolate beauties and snow bunnies alike.
There really is no hope for the ‘middle class’ black woman is there. Sigh. I guess all we can do is happily stand next to our nice white country boyfriends who impress mummy and daddy while the white girls smile with their mouths. Their eyes, of course, say ‘erm, what are you doing here exactly?’ Not to mention the black girls who swear by the sweet dark berries roll their eyes at us and wonder why we don’t just bleach our skin.
End Note:
Again, this post is a clear satire. People should be with people regardless of the colour of their skin. That is something I have always been in favour of and is a running theme in many of my blog posts. It’s what’s on the inside that matters. There is no magical ‘white privilege’ (certainly not in modern day Britain) that automatically means every white person has it easier.
We are all humans with problems and struggles. But I’m not a blind fool, and racial tensions are a thing whether I like it or not, and unfortunately dating is an area where they can come out and show their dirty hidden colours.
Another satirical post: Dear social drinkers
