Dating black men isn’t a sport and there should be a training video to explain to you why.

I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for over three days trying to come up with something to write about. I have forced myself to sit down several times to churn out something just so I can remain consistent with my blog. However, it’s currently hard for me to focus on anything because I’m focused on everything. I’m literally trying to pay attention to everything that’s going on in the world, whether it’s important or not. I give non-important stuff attention, just in case there’s a message hiding in it that no one would expect you to find.

For one thing, I have to deal with my sixty-seven-year-old mother who behaves like a fifteen-year-old girl that wants to go outside and pouts about the fact that she can’t. I wouldn’t wish for anyone to have to deal with a parent who makes the job of taking care of them any more difficult than it already is. One of the most annoying things you will hear from a parent you’re trying to keep alive is, “I’m grown.”

“It’s 6:37 PM on a Wednesday evening and I’m battling with my feelings as I listen to “Lockdown” by Anderson Paak. This song is perfect. I love Anderson. If I could be a musical entertainer, he’s what I would aim for. He has a Marvin Gaye essence when he sings about what is taking place in America, over a very sultry R&B beat with a message that sounds as if it’s being delivered by Kendrick Lamar. I discovered Anderson about four years ago, and I haven’t gotten off the train since. Back to the blog.”

My idea for the EAT blog is to give people a perspective of what it’s like to go through life as a black man in this country, who is trying desperately to be seen and understood. Someone who would want to poke a hole or play devil’s advocate to this will probably ask me, “Whom are you trying to be understood by?” It’s as if they want to point out that you may not know what you are doing, or what you’re asking for. I despise those people the most.

I want people to consider looking deeper into why anyone becomes who they are. You either succumb to your surrounding situations so much that you repeat the same generational mistakes, or you overcome them. And then there’s that little gray area where you battle with both.

I’m struggling with what to write about because I want to write about everything that I’m feeling. The list of emotions that I’m experiencing is endless. I have enough material to write a book based on the conversations that I have with people about what’s going on in the world today.

One of the things I want to write about is how I feel a lot of the support that Black people are suddenly receiving is extremely disingenuous. I don’t believe everybody’s heart is in this for the right reasons. It pains me that I have to write about how I’m 44 years of age and living in a world where Black people are still begging for their rights to be protected and for justice during the times when they aren’t.I don’t understand why it’s so hard to comprehend my struggles. When I have to explain to people, who live in the same world as I do, that my life has a disadvantage, it blows my mind.

I once dated a Filipino woman who said she preferred to date black men. Mentioning her ethicnty is important to the story. I asked her how and why she only dated black men. I wanted an answer to this statement that, if it were made by a man, would be problematic. She gave me this explanation that I’ve heard too often from non-black women. She explained to me how she liked that black men have style, rhythm, melanin, and that she could see the strength in Black men. Those things were attractive to her. I’ve run into women who have a problem with men saying they have a type. They are quick to say those men are toxic and shallow.  They feel men should get to know what’s on the inside of a woman versus making a decision on physical appearance. But if you listen to her description of why she dates black men, it’s shallow as fuck.

I remember one night we sat down in her small one-bedroom apartment in her neighborhood of Atwater Village, which was located next to a more highly overpriced and gentrified neighborhood called Silverlake, right after Philando Castile was murdered. She couldn’t understand why his murder affected me so deeply. She couldn’t understand the constant fear I have for my life as a Black man in America. I thought it would have been an equally one-sided discussion about how we as minorities are targeted and experimented on. She couldn’t see my pain. She refused to put herself in my shoes. I was doing the best that I could to explain to her about the difficulties I face when driving, going to a store, being near police, and simply living in this world as a Black man. I had to tell her that, as Black man, I have to make sure I have myself completely together before I go out into the world. I explained it to her the way you would speak to a person who is being taught how to drive. I told her that the same way your driving instructor will tell you that you need to wear your seatbelt, check your lights, check your turn signals, clear your blind spots, and make sure you have your license and registration before you even think about driving.

I do the same prep work before I decide to leave my place. I let her know that I have to put extra thought into whatever I do, or wear, or how I look as a Black man in America. I have my own “make-sure-you-do-this-so-you-won’t-get-harassed” checklist before I go into the world. I check to make sure my clothes aren’t too ethnic or attention grabbing. This means that I avoid wearing things I may want to support in fear that it may be deemed problematic. For example, my “I’m rooting for everybody that’s Black” shirt can’t be worn if I want to enjoy my day. I’m begging for attention if I’m openly supportive of anything seen as “too Black.” I make sure to ask myself if my hair looks non-threatening. I pat my pockets to make sure I have my ID on me; even though I could possibly get shot for reaching for it, I still have to have it handy. I call this “The Good Negro Safety Check.” If I do everything society wants me to do based upon how they think I should behave, I won’t have any problems. It sucks that it’s come down to this.  I guess I have to look at it and be grateful. I don’t get to be myself, but I don’t have to die, either.

I did my best to explain to her that I don’t have to do anything other than be a Black man existing in this world to get killed. She tried to tell me what I have heard many times before, from white people who don’t want to accept that there is a cultural difference, that it was all in my head. The conversation emotionally drained me to the point where my body was tired and my mouth was sore from talking.

I stood there like a deer in the headlights as I listened to her speak with so much ignorance. It was then that I realized I had not taken the time to get to know this person I was dating before I decided to get into a relationship with her. She dismissed my claims of fear. She dismissed my anxieties. She told me that she doesn’t want to live in that world of fear. She tried to tell me that she doesn’t deal with racism because she refuses to acknowledge that it exists. I would like to add here that she was going through a phase of chanting and rubbing crystals.

I had to quickly remind her that if she was going to date a Black man that she needed to know that it came with some warnings and additional responsibility. It’s dangerous to date a Black man. I assume that if someone dates Black men, they have read the handbook and the reviews on dating Black men. There should really be training videos on this. I’m strongly considering making a class on how to date a Black man. Maybe it’ll become a Master Class. God knows there are some people out there who’d need to partake before they just jump into it.

From that moment on, I never felt safe with her again. I never felt as though she would have my back in any situation where she couldn’t see that I was being attacked because of my race. I don’t think any non-Black person will ever understand how I feel when I tell them I’m afraid I’m going to be murdered one day because of the color of my skin. We broke up not too long after. Her dating Black men as some sort of exotic sport was one of the many reasons why we broke up.

A few weeks ago, she texted me after the George Floyd murder, and subsequent protests, to tell me she was sorry for not understanding or hearing me when I was trying to tell her what I go through. I was so angry. I wanted to text back, “Fuck you, bitch.” I did say it to myself. Then I gathered myself and replied with something sarcastic, but also thanking her for even having the ability to suck up her pride to let me know she was in the wrong. I did let her know that it sucks that it takes the world almost coming to an end before she decided to believe me when I was telling her the world hates Black people. She agreed and said sorry again.

Despite her apology, I was still so mad. I went to her Instagram page to investigate how genuine her apology was, because I knew what type of person she is. And just as I thought, her entire Instagram looked as if Angela Davis was running it. She had a new Black boyfriend; no surprise there. And he either didn’t know how she cared about Black men issues, or he didn’t care about how she felt.  She had Black this and Black that carpet-bombed all over her page. She went as far as taking the classical disingenuous photo of herself having a conversation about Black issues just so she could post it on social media. The only reason I know it was a photo of her having a conversation about how Black people are treated was because of her caption saying so. I threw her apology out of the window. I sat there in disbelief as I went through her entire page, wondering how she could be this “woke” about Black issues in a matter of weeks when she was with a Black man who tried to tell her about those issues for three years. I don’t need bandwagon support for Black people issues and neither do other Black people.

For the non-Black women who like to date black men because it’s something exciting to do and you look good on a dance floor with us: I would appreciate it if you would watch the training videos when I put them out and read up on what it’s like to date a Black man, and then decide if you have the capacity to care for what we have to go through as much as you care about how cool you look when you date us. I’m exhausted from trying to explain to people that you don’t have to treat Black people in a special way, just treat us the way you want to be treated. Treat us like humans. Value everyone’s life in the same way.

I write as a form of healing for myself and others. If you enjoyed what you read, “tip the writer” by donating to Venmo or zelle @maronziovance or Cash App Gift2MaronzioVance