Bed Wench

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. 

And then…

“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. 

Je'Nievie Rogers is the founder of Sunflowers, a female mental health peer discussion group. You can get more information about the project and how to support it here

You can also find more of her poetry, prose, and musings here