I love my mother, she's the only person in the world that I would sacrifice my life for - a woman that I love with every inch of my heart to the point that if she was every harmed, I'd make sure that I wiped any evidence that the culprit ever existed as if I somehow altered the space-time continuum.(for my "Back to the Future" peeps) I guess it has something to do with her universal kindness, generosity - we all know a person so pure of heart, that you automatically know that the people who don't like them are the mentally unstable ones of the "smearing their own feces against the wall" variety. She has a love and respect for all people, judging people on the content of their character and not the color of their skin, a woman that doesn't have a hateful bone in her body - even though I get the sneaking suspicion that she would rather me do porn than marry a white girl. It's weird, my sister married a white man, a dude that my mother effortlessly embraced because he is flat out a good man(Despite his hero being Dick Cheney) - his lack of melanin, good credit, and his nauseating love for right wing radio was never a factor when it came to her welcoming him into the family with open arms. But when it comes to me walking down the isle with a woman who has never had the luxury of being asked "Why can't I say the N-Word?", I get the feeling that my mother's "Electric Slide" during the reception wouldn't be as spirited as usual. I mean, she has never flat out told me not to marry a white women - she has never said she'd disown me if I chose to be with someone that made black chicks collectively suck their teeth whenever we walked by. She doesn't have some sort of stone "Black Woman's Ten Commandments" tablet in her living room with #1 being "Thou shalt not marry a pale face!" - with possibly #5 being "Its OK if Thou marries a Latin broad - they're black anyways"
I'm just working on my mother's subtle reactions over the years, like that time in High School when I had this white girl named Kelly come over so we could complete a Spanish project - my mother was very nice to the girl, but after Kelly left she playfully raised one eyebrow and proceeded to call me O.J Simpson for the next two weeks. Then it was that time that we were out having dinner recently, she gave me that "Well, alrighty-then" look when I told the white waitress that she was so fine that I'd gladly take her to Nation of Islam meetings, clutching two pork chop sandwiches, while singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" at the top of my lungs.(Maybe that wasn't about her being white but me being an asshole, I'm sure that me telling the waitress that I'd grant her permission to call me "Mandingo" during sex didn't bode well with my mother either) But I understand where she is coming from, I remember her telling me stories about how prominent black men in the city she grew up in would show off their new white girlfriends - a sign of status supposedly, which is why I'm sure that many women like my mother who are in their 60's feel uneasy when they see a black man with a white woman.
That being said, I love my mother and all, but based on the limited access that I have to free vagina nowadays - my new mantra is the utterly romantic "A hole is a hole!!" I love my black sisters and they are who I've always gravitated to, but I never ruled out anyone based on their race - for all I know my soul-mate is whiter than fresh snow, a woman worth decades of crooked stares and claims that I'm turning my back on my people. But the truth is, unlike 95% of the black dudes in the NBA - I've never been with a white girl despite my cock always being an equal opportunity employer. Sure, I've had my chances, but the white women in question always said or did something to fuck it up for everybody.
Really.. You're wearing that?: I'm paranoid by nature, I tend to think that there are actually people out there plotting on my downfall - from some asshole that I beat senseless in front of his girlfriend once, to a disgruntled blogger upset at the fact that envy has forced him to beat off to my blog on those lonely nights. So you can just imagine my sheer terror when a white woman that I met for lunch, Sandy, walked in the establishment wearing an extremely tight T-shirt with the confederate flag plastered all over it. I just knew it was a hit, a government sent assassin paid to dispatch me from the human coil - there was no other conclusion, what other white women would dare wear a confederate flag T-Shirt while courting a black man? Anyway, after a few awkward moments of ear shattering silence I just blurted out: "What's up with that fucking T-Shirt? I mean, this has to be in the "White girls who fuck black guys" handbook under "What not to do"? Man, I had visions of fucking the shit out of you back at my place and with every thrust saying sexy shit like "This is for Jim Crow!" - "This is for Medgar Evers" - "This is for the last season of "24".. You've really gone and fucked that up!!" She proceeded to tell me that she was just embracing her southern heritage, with every syllable that came out of her mouth the more she sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher. That dinner couldn't have ended fast enough, even though a month later I drunk dialed her and said that she could atone for her sins if she gave me an hand-job while reciting the lyrics to Public Enemy's "Fight the Power"
Fuck the Police!: A few years ago I was invited over the house of a woman who was a police dispatcher, which was rather interesting to me because I always wanted to hear some perverse "Help me, I have a cat stuck to my penis!" story. Dinner was great, and based on her showing me a picture of her ex-boyfriend and him looking like Jimmy "JJ" Walker(currently) I felt like an absolute stud. But as we sat and watched one of those reality based police shows, where a particular police officer was tazzering the shit out of an elderly black women - I said, "Jesus Christ, talk about excessive force!" That's when she took exception and said, "You don't know how it is HumanityCritic, as a dispatcher I hear about these type of animals every day. You have to show those people that you mean business!" - as she uttered that sentiment she continued watching that elderly black woman get deep-fried, sensually biting her lip as if she was getting off on it. I was out of there faster than you could dial 911.
Save the lectures, Cosby: When it came to Caucasian women, I've always had crushes on the ones who were secure in their whiteness - I love Janeane Garofalo, Drew Barrymore, women who have never been accused on trying take on a black persona. I've always despised the white girls who try to act black, you know the type - chicks who actually expose how little respect they have for black folks, by them choosing to use improper English and exhibit the sporadic neck-roll. Anyway, against my better judgement I acquired the phone number of a cashier at my local grocery store - a woman that went by the name Ree-Ree.(real name, Rebbecca) She was everything that I usually loathed, a white girl with a horrible "black-scent" as I call it - but her being stacked like a porn star, and the fact that she said I was cute erased all doubts from my mind. The problem arose when we went out a couple of nights later that I was right - immediately she had me considering perpetrating a hate crime. For one thing, having a white woman tell you that you "talk white" makes a brother want to masturbate to "Roots" and shit - not to mention her attempting to give me a brief overview on "The History of Dreadlocks". Jesus Christ.