Chocolate Chip: Think Like A White Person, Get Married Like a White Person
by Charlie
Panic mode! The injustice of this world keeps thickening like giblet gravy. The Internets have been abuzz for ages with the most recent setback for the black woman (me) and it’s pretty much sending devastating shockwaves throughout my brains. Here’s the scoop: Black women, the more edumacationed you are, the less likely it is for you to get maaaaaaa-wied! Even though I am a goddamn-right-don’t-fucking-touch-me-unless-I-say-so-my-body-is-not-an-object-for-displaced-male-on-male-fantasies-to-be-realized-through-the-occasional-ass-fuck feminist, this is like really, reeeeeeally freaking me out.
What? No white dress? No free bling? No uncomfortable toast from that friend you shouldn’t have invited but did because they’re a videographer with a kickass Super8? Clearly, like “all” heterosexual females, I’ve thought waaaaaaaay too much about my (oh yes, it is MINE, dear. All mine. Just stand there, look good and don’t embarrass me) wedding. Apparently, however, my marriage prospects are as doomed as John Cusack’s career after 2012. My, cough, humanities degree makes me less eligible for future widowhood than say, cockeyed Lashanda Jones on the block. For real, what’s seriously throwing me for a loop here is the fact that ugly white educated women still get married like clockwork.
I guess it’s time I revisit my life map. As I approach the area of the timeline where a good blowjob and a fuck translate to something more serious than, well, a good blowjob and a fuck, it’s time for me to start thinking critically about what I want, what I really really want. According to Nightline, I am about as lucky as Nancy Kerrigan at the ‘94 Olympics if I’m planning to marry a Negro, because Society says darkies belong in jail. So while our men keep working on the chain gang, or making license plates or whatever the fuck the fuzz has them doing in there for way less than minimum wage, we black women distract ourselves by, gasp!, reading books and going to college. What nerve, right? I blame the Church.
There are several rationales being bandied about as to why successful, educated black women are less likely to get married. The one that’s got my knickers in a bind is this: black women have unrealistic standards. They want a Denzel when they should be thankful for a T-Pain (pre that one song I’m guessing is responsible for my even knowing his name.) The fact that I’m being asked to lower my standards even though I’m not a) diabetic, b) a dwarf that isn’t a sexy dwarf, c) totally busted like Hatchet Face or d) a Jehovah’s Witness, is totally absurd. What is this, Simpatico? “Singled Out”? FUCK THAT SHIT. Pabst Blue Ribbon!
Luckily, I never have and never will take anything out of Steve Harvey’s mouth seriously and he is one of Nightline’s “experts” pushing the “be more realistic ladies” agenda. I find it hard to take relationship advice from a man as unattractive as Steve Harvey. Not to mention the fact that he’s been married three times.
Truthfully my black ass shouldn’t talk because I am dating a bona fide, blue-eyed, corn-fed cracker. He sweetly tells me I have nothing to worry about, that my life map looks great but that it, like most things, is known to be somewhat malleable. Often times one has to make adjustments. Still this recent phenomenon makes me wonder: have I been trying to head this whole thing off before the pass by thinking Mr. White is Mr. Right? Am I so driven by my desire to get married that I’ve been ignoring perfectly wonderful black men? How seriously have the strictures of black life in America influenced my decision to date whitey (briefly, can I take a moment to tell you how unfortunate it is that there are so few ethnic slurs for “white”? Truly a sad, sad state of affairs.) I’m sure there is something definitive to be said about this, but I’ll leave that to the very smart, highly educated, unmarried black women to figure out. In the meantime, honky and I get on just fine! We are well aware of circumstances that make our relationship taboo, but we don’t give a fuck what other people think. This is especially true of Steve Harvey and his doucher mustache.
Charlie is a pen name for a young professional woman living in New York who plans to ask her white boyfriend to wear blackface this Halloween.