Blak and white dating
Our portrait was perfectly hung and constantly dusted for shine.
But whenever he would call, I would let my phone ring until the screen went black. ” “Soon,“ I would say, as though there was more urgency in believing it to be true.
Our family is a classic case of women and the black men who left them versus the white men who stayed.
The match wasn’t ideal, but we took to each other like people end up doing when left in a room alone.It was only when he started saying things like, “They’re all wondering why you’re with me,” while gesturing to a group of black men, that I realized he was doubting himself, too. We got stared down in every bar that we entered, and approached with unsolicited offers for company, as though our relationship could only be sexual, as though we needed more than each other to be satisfied.These were the days that he learned how to hold me when I cried.I wondered how men with such delicate bodies seemed to be the only ones who could endure the storm. We bought crop tops, tight jeans, and earrings so big that they touched our shoulders.When my cousin on the all-black side birthed a baby girl whose father had become abusive, we took a long ride to a shopping mall. On the ride home we were quiet and I decided I would never date a black man as long as my feet touched this earth.