Why black skinned women like dating white local men getting married
Why dark people had to ‘take a break from white men’ while talking about own experiences of local dating as a black woman.
Does having a white boyfriend make me less black?
I wouldn’t have been surprised if my partner’s parents had objected to our relationship InterracialxDating.com
In fact, when I first set out to meet his white, British family, I asked if he had told them I was black. His reply — ”no, I don’t think they’d care” — filled me with dread. And when he admitted that I’d be the first non-white woman to meet them, I almost jumped off the train. I was also nervous about introducing him to my Somali-Yemeni family. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they balked: Families forbidding dating outside the clan is a story much older than Romeo and Juliet.
But as it turned out, both our families have welcomed and supported our relationship. The criticism — direct and implied — that I’ve felt most keenly comes from a less expected demographic: woke millennials of color.
I felt this most acutely in communities I’ve developed as a feminist. I can almost see the disappointment radiating off people who find out that my partner is white. One person told me she was “tired” of seeing black and brown people dating white people. And I’m not alone: several black and Asian friends tell me they’ve reached a point that they feel awkward introducing their white partners.
Hollywood is finally beginning to tell meaningful stories by and about people of color — from TV shows such as ABC’s Scandal and Netflix’s Master of None to films including The Big Sick. But many of these stories have provoked strong reactions from audiences critical of characters of color having white love interests.
I take a deep breath and ready my fingers. I admonish myself for being theatrical about something so mundane. Another deep breath.
“Here we go,” I mutter, pressing enter.
My profile has been created. It seems simple enough: swipe left to dismiss, swipe right to express interest.
The first eligible bachelor appears — not my type, I swipe left. Then another follows — too young, I swipe left again. Ten swipes in, and I find myself texting my eldest sister this was a bad idea. A feeling of vexation settles over me.
I didn’t think I would ever have to use a dating app, but men don’t talk to me any other way.
I’ve spent so much time trying to understand what is so unattractive about me that men shun me. At first, I thought it was because I was intimidating — a word I’ve heard used to describe me. For a while, I concluded I was “not that interesting,” a line I subsequently used as my biography on social media. But those explanations won’t do.
The real issue is staring me right in the face: my deep mahogany skin.
Colorism — the prejudice based on skin tone — has stunted the romantic lives of millions of dark-skinned black women, including me. We are not as valued as our lighter-skinned counterparts when seeking romantic partners, our dating pool constricted because of something as arbitrary as shoe size.