Back in college when I spent my free time combing the stacks for books on race relations that hadn’t been checked out for years, I could’ve never imagined that at age 30-something I’d be in a relationship with a White man.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’ve never dated outside my race. In the past, I’ve stumbled upon an outing with an non-Black fella or three but as I’ve gotten older, as the pickin’s of single, relationship-minded, young Black males seems to be dwindling, I find myself being far more open to…whomever.

interracial dating, ok or still taboo?

About a year ago I got fed up. I looked around and it amazed me at how many of my female friends…and friends of friends are single…AND CHILDLESS! Do I happen to befriend homely, unwanted women or is there some strange cosmic force at work that keeps educated, attractive, young Black women single?

Take my line sisters (I pledged Delta Sigma Theta) for example. Out of a line of 12 woman ranging from ages 29-31, guess how many of us are married? FOUR! One third of us are married and most of the remainder are either single or in “sorta-not-really-almost-yes-we’re-dating” relationships. What the hell is going on?

When I was younger, the prospect of being single didn’t bother me. To be honest, the idea of marriage frightens me and hey, as much as I want children, what I wouldn’t give to be a man right now. I don’t like being beholden to a real and ticking biological clock. So my 20s pretty much flew by and although I had my fair share of assholes…I mean, “relationships,” I never really lamented being alone until now.

Lately it’s become evident that I have to be more proactive in finding my mate. I’m not an active church-goer and from what I can tell, they’re preaching things like if you’re a woman, your mate is supposed to find you. To those who ascribe to that philosophy I say “Heaven help you cause reality ain’t on your side.” Besides, women of my generation were taught to go out and get ours and all of sudden I’m supposed to sit back and wait for a man to find me? Kiss my…grits.

For me it’s not necessarily being alone that concerns me. If anything, it’s acknowledging that my being raised by a single parent and having dated men who were “nevah ready,” that I may have resigned myself to going with the flow…not looking for a relationship, not happy with being single. That in a way, I was choosing to be alone because ultimately, I wanted to wake up in Black man’s arms, I wanted Black babies, I wanted to someone to share Black culture with, I wanted a Black man’s “member” and not “pinky.”

In the past, dating a non-Black male was just that…dating. We could play love, we could even play house, but that non-Black man was a stepping stone in my journey to find my Black King. But play time is over and where my preference is Black, my ideal would be someone who loves and cherishes me. My ideal is someone who puts me first and wants to share a life with me…and yeah, I gotta feel that way about him too

But interracial dating? Me? I mean it’s fine for other people but for me? Miss Pro-Black (by others definition), Miss I’m-On-My-Soap-Box-So-Black-Folk-Do-Better (my definition) dating a White man? Now if that ain’t hypocritical I don’t know what is. It’d be no different than if I decided one day to relax my hair while promoting the natural ideology. It just ain’t right.

So where I don’t give a damn what other people think, I do struggle with this question, what does a White man on my arm communicate? Yall tell me…