Why I'm NOT Here For Your Fascination: White Men and Their Fascination With Black Women
I’m not an exotic bird, I’m not a rare flower you’ve always wanted to smell. I’m not something you’ve always wanted to try while you were in college. I'm NOT here for your fascination.
It’s been in my experience that White men have always been fascinated with me. Throughout much of my adult life, they’ve made advances through a variety of avenues to gain my attention. But in order to fully understand the concept of fascination, it must first be thoroughly explained. Merriam-Webster defines fascination as “the state of feeling an intense interest in something.” Some synonyms include allure, captivation, and enchantment.
In order for you to fully understand my plight, you must first know my story. For half of my undergraduate career, I attended Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. At the time, I was a very outgoing young woman and I befriended the majority of the people who lived in my dorm. Wake Forest is predominately White so naturally the bulk of my friends were White. It just so happened that over 60% of them were male. I grew really close with one of them in particular. For all intensive purposes, we’ll call him Bobby. Bobby was laughter, hugs, kisses, charm, and fun wrapped up in an eighteen year old boy. We were inseparable. We had movie nights every Thursday, we studied together, we ate breakfast in the Pit(the cafeteria) every morning, we were (for lack of a better term) two peas in a pod.
Things started becoming more serious. As human beings, we’re naturally inclined to become attached to someone we spend the majority of our time with. Then came time to DTR (Define The Relationship). I was laying on his chest playing with his shaggy blonde hair when I looked up into his ocean blue eyes and asked him the inevitable. “What are we, Bobby? Where is this going? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Are we working towards that?” A minute passed which felt like an eternity. His next words were something I will never forget. “We’re hanging out, Linea. We’re having fun. I’m fascinated with you, you know that. You’re beautiful and exotic, I’ve always wanted to kiss a Black girl. But I could never take you home to meet my parents, you’re Black. And I mean no offense by that.”
His words cut into my soul and ripped my barely beating heart into minuscule shreds. The rest is a blur to me really. I remember leaving the room and never saying another word to him despite his many attempts to talk to me again. At first I was extremely heart broken but as the weeks passed, I was ANGRY. I was essentially something on Bobby’s bucket list. Something he was “fascinated” with-something “exotic.” Nothing he could ever take home to meet his mother.
My experience with Bobby helped me to realize my place in this world. He helped me realize that amongst White men, I will always be the mistress and never the wife. I will always be the “forbidden fruit.”
I’m grateful for my time with Bobby because he helped me to see the value in myself. I am NOT here for your fascination. I’m not some flavor you’ve never tried. I’m a human being with feelings. Keep it moving, White man. I’m not here for you, I’m here for me.