My Preference, My Choice

Why the fuck does everyone keep questioning me? 

Being a Black woman comes with the growing normalcy of having to explain yourself. The stream of questions on how we exist never ends. 

From how do you get your hair like that to not-so-subtle hints at why we aren’t comfortable tolerating disrespect. Every day we walk into spaces where we’re misunderstood. Almost mystified by our existence of being outside the norm. And with that comes the responsibility of making sense for everyone else. 

And sometimes it’s warranted. We’re here to teach others, but I nor any other black woman should be forced to explain situations that only affect us. 

I knew that Black women had the unnecessary expectation to explain themselves when more and more conversations about dating outside our race began circulating. It became obvious that Black women aren’t afforded the privilege of taking a stance on the matter without being forced to elaborate on their choices. There’s confusion and interrogation when we state that we only want to date Black men. And from my end, my answer is simply…because I want to and I can. 

Credit: Something New (2006)

I’d feel less shorted if women of other cultures, religions, and races were met with the same ritual, but they aren't. Honestly forget the segmentation of women, every other group of people is allowed the decision to make a preference. Yet, Black women are questioned in the face of confidently choosing our destiny. 

White women, Jewish men, and even Black men (just to name a few) can date within a specified group with the only explanation being “that's just my preference” or leading with the idea that it’s a cultural norm. On the other hand, Black women are expected to be open to everyone’s consumption. We’re seen as difficult and closed off when we don’t want to go outside the box of who we’re attracted to or comfortable with. 

I could say I don’t understand our short-end-of-the-stick outcome, but it’s very clear. Black women aren’t supposed to be allowed the experiences of agency and choice. We’re supposed to be given what we’re offered, slap a smile on our faces, and go on our merry way. We aren’t allowed to complain or fight back because in everyone else's eyes, we’re here to support others, not be supported. Being authors of our own stories is shamed because we’re meant to be supporting characters in theirs. 

Just like any other minority group, I don’t want to sit and explain why I wear a bonnet to sleep, or why bi-monthly hair appointments are normal, or why my family eats chitterlings at Thanksgiving time. I want the ease of someone who’s been raised in a similar fashion. I want the connection of sharing a culture and understanding the beauty within it. 

And most of all, I don’t want to have to explain my desires. I want the respect afforded to everyone else when I decide what’s important to me. Not just in love, but with everything that concerns me.

With Love,

Allie