White dating black man
A powerful black woman went on live television during the most-watched event of the year and called for women everywhere to band together and fight patriarchy, all while serving modern-day Black Panther realness. If side-eye could kill, his frat brothers would’ve held a candlelit vigil in his honor that night. Neither was the guy who “debated” that the country only trusted Obama’s presidency because he was half-white. However, when your opinion is rooted in the belief that marginalized voices should be muted for the sake of your comfort, you’re wrong.
Nor the one who asked me why there isn’t a “White History Month,” too. You’re wrong for making me feel as though my presence only holds value when it makes you feel superior. That my voice and brain are severe threats to your obviously fragile manhood.
Now, I’m not here to unpack the social importance of that song, but this is what you should know: It holds a strong cultural significance for black women. White men including my boyfriend at the time, who after seeing the excitement and pride induced by this performance said, “You know, Beyoncé should really just stick to singing and dancing and stay out of politics. It’s actually very irresponsible.” Well I’ll be damned.
Actually, no, I definitely broke up with her because she’s white.
But there’s one certainty that we’re both aware of well before we meet in person for the first time. You divulge secrets to me that you’ve never told anyone, let alone a stranger. Besides, the average millionaire has seven streams of income. But everyone has their do-not-cross-or-I-will-judge-you line. And though I’m not triggered by much, the color of my skin coupled with the truth serum that is my personality make me more prone to defending my line of judgement than the average person. And though crossing the black girl’s line may seem scary (since we face the unfortunate stereotype of becoming monsters when angry), believe me when I say that through all of the side-eye and robust hand gestures, I am here to educate you on why and how to never cross this line.
You feel as though you can say anything to me without judgement. Now, there are some offenses that, while minor, still need to be discussed, it seems.
My first encounter with this particular type of situation was during the 2016 Super Bowl.
My lord and savior Beyoncé had just debuted “Formation” during Coldplay’s otherwise snooze of a halftime show.