My new friend is handsome, African-American, intelligent and seemingly wealthy.He is an athlete, loves his momma, and is happily married to a White woman.One thing I've come to understand, through my own relationship, is that for people who are really working at commitment, a relationship quickly ceases to be a political statement.There is certainly part of me that feels my partnership with a black woman says something about me. The problem is that no committed person goes to bed with black spouse or a white spouse.They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a bad idea to blow the rent-check on school clothes.They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a priority to keep the living room clean.It does not elevate status unless he is rich and has a status of his own, otherwise, all it does is just gets you noticed in public.
They too are far from perfect and being with a white person has not changed how I’m seen.By her own reckoning Jill Scott's friend is "new." All she knows about him is that he's nice-looking, well compensated and loves his mother.He could have a trail of baby momma's from Oakland to Kansas City.I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped.
But something in me just knew he didn't marry a sister. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress. Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul's credibility? One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that's not how I was brought up. I was taught that every man should be judged by his deeds and not his color, and I firmly stand where my grandmother left me.
Writing about this has helped me get clearer and clearer on this.