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He showed me new music, food, and gave me a new perspective to consider.
His family welcomed me with open arms and I am a better person because of it.
How many times had I said “Mom, I met this guy, he’s white”?
No matter how anxious I was to tell my family about my boyfriend, I felt proud of my interracial relationship, like we were the result of the world uniting and becoming a better place.
Gay, bisexual, straight, transgender, black, white, Asian, it was there and it was beautiful. “I can’t believe you dumped me for a n*%$#@.” Telling your parents about your new boyfriend is hard enough when his skin is the same color as yours, but it becomes even more difficult when he is at the opposite end of the color spectrum as you.
To them, Black men were filthy and diseased, which could only mean one thing: I was too.
As my luck with white men plummeted, I was inevitably pushed further towards black guys.
Dating a black man is not the same as dating a white man.
I was pushed out of my comfort zone and I learned more than I ever would have had I been with some someone who grew up just as I did.
It put me in a box, limiting me in ways I didn’t realize until recently.