Recently we had a lively, 120-comment-long discussion about whether natural black women fit best with non-black men. I had some thoughts on that, but decided against doing a follow up post. But Jill Scott’s recent commentary on interracial relationship really got under my skin.
In an OpEd in Essence Magazine Jill says;
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. I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped. But something in me just knew he didn’t marry a sister. Although my guess hit the mark, when my friend told me his wife was indeed Caucasian, I felt my spirit…wince. I didn’t immediately understand it. My face read happy for you. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress.
Was I jealous? Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul’s credibility? The answer is not simple. One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that’s not how I was brought up. I was reared in a Jehovah’s Witness household. 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. African people worldwide are known to be welcoming and open-minded. We share our culture sometimes to our own peril and most of us love the very notion of love. My position is that for women of color, this very common “wince” has solely to do with the African story in America.
When our people were enslaved, “Massa” placed his Caucasian woman on a pedestal. She was spoiled, revered and angelic, while the Black slave woman was overworked, beaten, raped and farmed out like cattle to be mated. She was nothing and neither was our Black man. As slavery died for the greater good of America, and the movement for equality sputtered to life, the White woman was on the cover of every American magazine. She was the dazzling jewel on every movie screen, the glory of every commercial and television show. She was unequivocally the standard of beauty for this country, firmly unattainable to anyone not of her race. We daughters of the dust were seen as ugly, nappy mammies, good for day work and unwanted children, while our men were thought to be thieving, sex-hungry animals with limited brain capacity.
We reflect on this awful past and recall that if a Black man even looked at a White woman, he would have been lynched, beaten, jailed or shot to death. In the midst of this, Black women and Black men struggled together, mourned together, starved together, braved the hoses and vicious police dogs and died untimely on southern back roads together. These harsh truths lead to what we really feel when we see a seemingly together brother with a Caucasian woman and their children. That feeling is betrayed. While we exert efforts to raise our sons and daughters to appreciate themselves and respect others, most of us end up doing this important work alone, with no fathers or like representatives, limited financial support (often court-enforced) and, on top of everything else, an empty bed. It’s frustrating and it hurts!
Our minds do understand that people of all races find genuine love in many places. We dig that the world is full of amazing options. But underneath, there is a bite, no matter the ointment, that has yet to stop burning. Some may find these thoughts to be hurtful. That is not my intent. I’m just sayin’.
Now I love Jill Scott as much as anyone, but I found her statements sorely misguided. Although I can understand theoretically where she is coming from, on a visceral level I just can’t relate. My focus is just… elsewhere.
There’s something I’ve noticed about the natural community: A LOT of us are married, engaged and/or dating! I have read/heard so many adorable love stories on blogs, YouTube channels and Fotki pages — all featuring natural black women as the central character. Some of my favorites are Margaret, Sunshine, Turnergirl, Roshini and MrsBNL.
There has been debate over whether the percentage of married naturals is higher than the percentage of married black women overall. I don’t know the answer to that (though I’d place my bets on married naturals) but I have found that generally speaking natural women are so preoccupied with their own happiness and progress that they don’t care about what some triflin/uninterested black man — or any color man for that matter — is doing.
And yes, that is a gross generalization. But I feel that the aura of self-acceptance and love that pervades the natural community tends to float into other areas of life. There’s a vulnerability among naturals that I find refreshing — an acknowledgment of the key role that love plays in life. How many times have I heard natural women say things like ‘my boyfriend was there for my big chop’ or ‘I couldn’t have gone natural without my husband’s support’.
And I guess that’s why Jill Scott’s statements rung hollow to me. Being in a community where uninterested black men have no place, where women find love with men of all races, where I see multiple examples of supportive, patient, natural-hair loving black men… it just makes it hard for me to hang onto bitterness regarding someone else’s romantic decision.
And this is not to trivialize the issue of singleness among black women. All I’m saying is that we can spend our energy trying to plead with and convince those who don’t love us. Or we can spend our energy and time investing in those who do. And, from where I’m standing, there are definitely more than we think.
Just my two pence.
