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She is a creative who graces Instagram with each artistic post. You question whether she’s a painter in her spare time, as each picture looks delicately crafted as if dipped in some kind of melanated honey.
It was in one fateful post in which I saw her with her white bae. She’s an avid reader and one imagines what it would be like to be her best friend: “Shall we read and chill? But first, let me head wrap.” These fantasies will forever be a goal.
The first blogger is a beautiful woman who owns a head wrap line (I have purchased three.
No need to discuss the shipping costs from America to the UK). Literally another beautiful head wrap line owner, whose artistry is magnificent.
Although it’s upsetting and frustrating, there’s something a little empowering about being seen as the least attractive group – the bottom of the barrel if you will; making each boy who swipes right a small victory against the tyranny of racism – snatching them into our black female lair, luring them in with each fluff of the afro.
We are constantly in a pattern of uplifting ourselves, boosting ourselves, complimenting ourselves and it can become exhausting.
“#Queen #Blessed #Melanin Magic.” If we’re not going to say it, who will?
I recognize that people have a preference when it comes to looks, but to only seek a person from one race amidst a history of a structural power division should not be exempt from arguments of internalized racism and self-hate.
When I hear a non-black person say they are not attracted to black women “as a personal preference” it is hard not to take this as a personal blow and an attack on my race at large.
And so, when I realised that the vast majority of my favourite black bloggers were in relationships with white men, you can imagine why I thought I was being paranoid.