What I’m craving right now from a partner — more than feeling beautiful, more than anything — is a “black nod” version of a relationship.
I know a man isn’t going to get me through the Trump era.
And too many times, those same white boyfriends decided to sit out being my partner.
I lost count of the times my boyfriend in my late 20s would tell me to “just leave” parties or social events when I complained of being the only person of color in his all-white friend group.
In every relationship I have with a white man, there comes a moment when they come to understand a simple fact of my life: that racism is an intimate part of my daily existence.