Black Love


What a glorious sight to behold!

Let me enlighten you about this unique sight but as I write this blog please know this is me. I am not ashamed to say I have dated outside of my race. Dating outside of my race has taught me a lot about myself and others. A little background before I jump into the topic.

I have dated and was engaged to a white doctor. When I met him I was working as a certified nursing aide, Patient Care Tech, and he was an intern. I was a little goofy but loved my job and at the time I was working with AIDS and HIV patients and doing telemetry care. I loved being with these people because even when things seemed dark around them I was the light but they touched my heart the most. He was a very quiet guy who was a little mysterious but he had the heart of gold. His name was John. When he first asked me out, he asked if I skated and I was like of course and I didn’t hear from him the rest of the day. The next day he brought my favorite Starbucks drink and a note asking me out. So corny but definitely special to me. We talked for a little over six months before he asked me to be his wife. I was in awe! He was such a romantic and knew how to spoil me without a single dime. His family loved me but one person despised me, his uncle. He said every black female wanted nothing but money, a baby daddy and someone to drain. It was the first time I experienced racism like this. It was the first time someone called me a “nigger” to my face and degraded everything I stood for. Although John went out of his way to stand up for me, I was hurt. I was not only hurt for myself but my son and John. My son was new to this and John was his world and he had never heard such derogatory words thrown in his direction. John and his uncle was close before I came into the picture and now he was ripped from the one person he called on more than his parents. I felt horrible and as I found myself in the miss of the hatred, John was by my side trying to comfort me. I was so hurt I ran from the one I loved and my engagement. I remember family and friends telling me I was wrong and that nothing should have broken the bond we had but I had to put my son first.

Maybe I was wrong for just leaving but it crushed my heart to know the one person I loved was being deprived of the one person in his life that he looked up too. I saw John for the first time cry during his ceremony because his uncle did not show. I was hurt. I was even more broken by the idea that my color could keep someone from loving the one they called family. It hurt me that people saw my race as something so disgusting, yet I had done no wrong. John and I made the most of the time we spent together and most of our dates were cheap but he knew my heart. I remembered a candlelit dinner on his patio with his stereo playing jazz, and the heart-shaped card he made (the heart was a little and our meal was hospital cafeteria food because we were both on lunch from work. It was so special to me and him and he would always do things like that for me. My son was my life and no matter how much I loved John I couldn’t allow my son to be a victim of such racism. He was to young to have to deal with such criticism because of his color.

So I ran and I knew I was hurting John but I was young and a mother. I dated a few more times with members of the opposite race once back home. I did not have to face as much judgement but I still felt like I was missing something and I always felt that racism was hiding in their families, so I started to question myself. Time went on and I grew. Now that’s my background with that.

Well now I’ll discuss me now: Black love matters to me because I love the black man. You see God made Kings and Queens and He made them for reasons. He said one day those at the bottom would rise to the top. I know this post may step on a lot of toes but it is my post and my feelings. Dealing with racism I have heard a lot of names being tossed around when discussing blacks. Many call us African-Americans, yet I knew nothing about Africa and was born an American. Many tell us to go back to where we come from but the last time I checked I was born here in the U.S.A. I saw biracial couples called names, their kids labeled as oreos but I saw beauty. I realized how much I loved the black man.

The black man was once known for his strength and compassion for his family. People say go back to the unknown but they were brought here by force. They were forced to work for free and beaten for saying no and trying to escape back to what was known. They were sold from their families and separated from what they knew. They were dragged, raped, tortured and sold like animals. When they were finally declared free, it was everything but truth because they were still outcast by the very people who brought them into this place. They were beaten for the work they did, beaten for protecting their families, beaten for speaking up and beaten for trying to return home. They were forced to work on plantations with limited food and water, waiting hand and foot for men and women who didn’t have the decency to work their own lands. They were hung from trees, sat on fire, shot and etc for wanting to be counted for or returned home. They were murdered before the eyes of their wives, mothers, sisters, daughters and sons for standing up for themselves. They were kicked and broken by the hands of others. Striped from the known and sent into the unknown. These were our Kings but because they had to endure so much they started to see themselves as serpents when God had already planned their destinies.

So to say they are not worthy is a slap in the face of the black man who goes above and beyond the statistics society has placed in our minds. You see I love the build of a black man and the uniqueness of his style. I love the variety of shades his color comes in and the beautiful array of eyes that come from a culture that many cast away. His smile after a hard days work and his ability to see past stereotypes. I love the way the world tries to kick him and yet he still rises. The ability he possess that allows him to be able to have a variety of talents because he was once told he couldn’t but he showed the world he could.

As a woman of color, this man is spectacular in my eyes because I can relate to him because I know his struggles. The women who were stripped from their homes to wash others clothing, clean their homes and tend to their kids, having to neglect their own. Fearing that at any moment their family could be separated without questions or they could see their loved one killed for no reasons.

I love the image of the black man and despite all he negative images society wants us to see, I still believe in black love. I know his struggles, so I can understand his needs. I know his sense of pride so I can cheer him on. I know his strife so I can build him up. I know his past so I can lighten his future. I love the black man and all he stands for and the things he accomplish becomes the things embraced. He’s a God in his own rights but more than that he is the Black man



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