Clutch magazine contributor Janelle Harris — who says “perpetual singleness” is rampant in her social circle — takes issue with some of the negative reactions to one friend’s interracial relationship.
Of the eight of us, some have kicked around the idea of dating outside of our race. I am steadfastly in love with black men — though I don’t discriminate about where in the world they come from, if that diversifies my options at all — so I’m not one of them. I can’t manufacture an attraction that just isn’t there. But hey, whatever works. In fact, two of my besties seemed destined for an international hookup, anyway. They stay pulling in smoldering looks and come-on lines from Italians and Iranians and Pakistanis and even an occasional Korean. And then one hauled off and stepped out and over into White Man Land.
She was so fed up with the arrogance of the brothers here in D.C. — some of whom will come out and tell you how sought-after they are just because they’re black men with good jobs, college degrees, and all of the furniture in their mouths — that she defected. She didn’t glance over her shoulder for approval or wade tentatively into the water. She Naomi Campbell walked to that thing and ended up meeting a really nice, if not a smidge off-beat, dude with mousy brown hair, sparkling green eyes and eggshell-colored skin. He had zero swag. He talked like a typical white guy. He didn’t have that Lance Gross, Idris Elba, Boris Kodjoe wow factor. But he was good to her; he cheerleaded her through the hardest semester of graduate school, and he doted on her hard enough to make all of us start stealing secret glances at Timmy in accounting.
The brothers, however, were not happy.
Read Janelle Harris’ entire piece at Clutch magazine.
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