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Black Love: What's the verdict?

July 13, 2016

What’s the verdict on Black love? 

 

 

 

 

Black love. I have been reflecting on black love for the past few months now. Having never dated, it’s an interesting topic to me. I’m sure you’re wondering how old I am now that I’ve said that. Well, I am a 24 year old black woman, who has never dated, and never been in love and I ask myself: Is black love what I’m looking for?

 

 

Before I continue further with the conversation, I would like to define what black love is, just so no one is lost. Black love in my own words means love shared between two black people. More than that, black love is seeking for a black partner, and judging it is better to have one due to similar struggles and similar culture.

 

I find black love to be a beautiful form of self-love. As black folk, we’ve often been accused of lacking just that. Self-love. Black men are often searching somewhere else for love and black women are often accused of not being excepting of themselves, just because they wear weave (I’m all for the weaves though, rock em’).  Black love shows unity. But it must also feel like home right? In a world where the feeling is ‘’It is so beautiful yet so difficult to be black’’ it makes it so much easier to have a partner fighting the same battle as you, be it racism or prejudice in all its forms.

 

 

A few of my friends and I have been discussing the concept of black love; what makes it so appealing, why we as black women search so desperately for it. A few ideas always come back. On the lighter side some of us just love the swagger and the attitude that the black man usually brings to a relationship. They’re usually seen as more authoritarian, in a sexy, ‘I handle my woman’ kind of way while treating us like the black Queens that we are. But on a more serious note the rational for black love is also that being black, we share the struggles that come along with it, and it’s good to have a life partner along for the ride.

 

 

What consolidated my opinion of Black love, which I will share in more detail later, is the 2006 movie called something new, starring Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker. In the movie, when

 

 black woman Kenya Denise (Lathan) talks about the struggles of being black with her love interest Brian Kelly (Baker), he often has a hard time taking her word for it. A part of him wonders if Kenya isn’t over reacting at certain aspects of her day to day work life when she talks to him about black tax for example; which is the fact that black folk often have to work twice as hard to get the same recognition as white folk. That is a form of racism, and if Sanaa’s love interest had been black he would have known that, I thought to myself as I watched the movie. A black man would have known that black tax is a thing and he would have been able to relate so much easier.

 

 

Another aspect that struck me in this movie is the concept of hair. Why was I so pissed off when Brian asked Kenya if her weave was her real hair, and how it worked? I am still figuring that part out but it stressed me out yall! It’s probably because no one asks white folks how their hair ‘works’ where as black people, especially women are often seen as some sort of aliens who need to be kept overnight for observation, to understand just how, their hair was long and curly yesterday and in a bob today. Granted the ‘mechanism’ of black hair seems a little more complex. Our hair defies gravity and all!

 

 

But at the end of the day-watch out for the spoiler if you haven’t seen the movie-Brian, the white guy is still her love, and their good together. Really good!

 

What do you all think about Black love?

 

I had a dream last night; I was explaining certain struggles that black people face every day to a friend I use to have in high school. In the dream, he didn’t believe a word I said, and I was getting more and more frustrated… And that’s the part that makes Black love, in real life, very appealing, amongst other things. But as for me and black love, I think I should start by simply being receptive to any kind of love that stumbles into my life, so long as it’s real love.

 

Bisous,

Meg.

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