Black Woman. I have always wanted to be one. Most gay dudes have. They are fun. Loud. They are confident and self-sufficient. They command respect and they get it. Who doesn't want to be a black woman? I can remember having an affinity for black girls since grade school. My first black girl interaction was with a young girl that blackmailed me for my crayons. She had caught me picking my nose (in third grade) and had threatened to tell the cool kid, Billy, that sat beside her about it. Billy was only cool because he was being raised by a single mother who undoubtedly had no control over him as seen by his impressively long rat tail and Van Halen Tee-shirts. They eventually became Nirvana tee-shirts while we were in junior high and the coolness of a boy with a white trash single mother wore off quickly. It wasn't long before he became the UNCOOL kid that lit newspapers on fire in the boys bathroom. Weird.
But this is a story about black girls. She black mailed me and I told my mom. Mom called the principal and they made her give back my crayons. They spoke with her about what black mail was and I am still surprised to this day that I learned for myself what it was in the Third Grade. But Good for her. Like I said, Black girls know what they want, and they get it.
In Middle School I spent most of our recess time with the black girls on the playground. Mainly because most of the other boys spent it playing basketball and yet I would have rather learned how to do the tootsie roll or the butterfly with LaKreisha and Nay-Nay. I remember there was one time in particular where this other (somewhat effeminate) young boy was on the playground with me and my homegirls. Jamal. He was a swayback little asshole and nobody liked him. He was rail thin and arched his back when he walked. He has hand mannerisms that would make RuPaul look butch and yet nobody made fun of him the way that they did to me. Jamal also had these huge pouty lips that were too big for his own head and he would purse them and suck them as just to add fuel to the fire that was his attitude problem. Although nobody seemed to care for Jamal since he was mean to everyone, when you are a member of a subculture even if only by default of the color of your skin, you are one of the family. I was singing a song and Jamal stopped me and informed me that I couldn't sing that song because it was a black song. Luckily my girls had my back and reinforced for me that I was aloud to sing whatever song I wanted and that there were not black and white songs but just songs for everyone.
Jamal pissed me off and I had written him off for the rest of my life, or so I thought until I ran into him at the club many years later. I walked by this tall sexy black man with broad shoulders and a manly swagger. We caught eyes but kept walking yet checked each other out along the way. After we passed I began to feel as though I recognized him and I doubled back to check. Jamal??? He confirmed. He remembered me and was caught up a bit. I could tell that he had grown out of his deviant behavior, and had matured into quite the sexy and distinguished young black man. Everything about Jamal seemed to be quite proportionate in comparison to the goofy looking son-of-a-bitch that I had known so long ago. I admit that I had a slight moment of regret when I remembered the looks we had exchanged in hatred during our Middle School years and I suddenly hoped for a bout of forgiveness. Then Jamal went on to introduce me to his boyfriend and I just thought to myself "Well, fuck him anyway!"
I ventured off to college in the year 2000. I attended Appalachian State University which could also be known as "the whitest place on earth", (that is, of course, before I landed in Massachusetts!). I remember that it was the first day on campus (after our parents had all dropped us off on our own). I was getting breakfast with the only two girls that I had known (from high school) and I met these three black girls in line for eggs and pancakes. They were Punkin, Kayla, and Rita. Little did I know that they would become my new best friends and that they would carry me through my entire freshman year.
We exchanged numbers. I joked around with them. They laughed. Throughout the year I helped them find weed. I taught them how to make jello shots. They taught me how to eat hot wings like a black girl (you put the whole thing in your mouth and pull out JUST the bone!). I still eat them that way today!!!
I can remember the smell of burnt black hair and cocoa butter from hanging out in their room. There was one night in particular when it was me and all the black people. They had invited all of their friends over and we all watched Higher Learning. It is a really good movie if you have not already seen it. But in the movie there is a white guy played by Michael Rappaport and he rooms with these loud and obnoxious black dudes that play loud music and have parties. They treat him like shit through the entire movie until he goes crazy and joins a band of skinheads. They start killing all his black roommates on campus. It was clearly not the most fun to watch being the only white dude in a room full of angry black girls and half of the college football team, but I got out alive. When the movie was over they all looked at me and said "Don't you be pulling some shit like that!" and I just nodded and kept my mouth shut.
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