A Letter To The White Men I Date — Past, Present, And Future

My lips are naturally more full. My voice is unabashedly louder. And my skin is much darker and, well, thicker.

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I totally strip you of your filter. You feel as though you can say anything to me without judgement. You bought tickets to Fyre Festival? I get it. I white like overpriced cheese sandwiches, too. You own a metal detector and mine for gold in your free time? Besides, the average millionaire has seven streams of income. But everyone has their do-not-cross-or-I-will-judge-you line. This is especially true when it comes girl dating. Now, there are some offenses that, while minor, still need to be discussed, it seems. Do I actually look like her, or should you stop and take a sip of your drink?

Chances are, the answer is the latter. My first encounter with this particular type of situation was during the Super Bowl. It holds a strong cultural significance for black women. 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.

That was some scary shit. White men were shooketh to the core. Black he was, the ever-elusive black-woman-voice-silencer.

He crossed the line. Judgement Day had come. All of those men were immediately cancelled.

But not before they were educated. Now, everyone is entitled to their opinion. That my voice and brain are severe threats to your obviously fragile manhood. And, no. Thanks in advance.

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