a submission from Je'Nieve Rogers
on being a black woman with a preference for white men
I hold his hand and he plays with my hair. His eyes are…green, blue maybe? I don’t really care. He’s sweet to me, and his voice is mellow. His hair long. I think he plays the cello?
I love the contrast of our skin…cream on clover honey, ivory on brown sugar, he’s beautiful to me, and I to him.
“You hate yourself. You don’t love your father…” a man who looks like me barks, expecting me to flinch.
He harasses me some more and when I don’t react, he calls me a “bed wench”. I smile and laugh as I walk past, he isn’t the first, and he wont be the last.
“You’re a Black Queen. He’s just using you; he doesn’t understand. Pretending to love, he hasn’t a clue,” a woman with hair like mine chastises, awaiting my epiphany.
She "educates" me some more but it’s neither here nor there to me.
I nod and smirk and she makes her exit, mumbling “bed wench” under her breath as I text it.
And here he comes, to claim I’m colorblind, and I love all,
would be a lie, for you see, white men just do it for me.
I don’t boast, I don’t brag, I don’t belittle, or talk bad about the men I just don’t prefer to have.
If that makes me a bed wench so be it, I’ll keep shrugging it off…to be honest, just really like white penis.