Jungle Fever?

Jill Scott recently wrote an essay for Essence.com on interracial dating that has sparked some intense debate via blogs and websites and since this topic seems to keep coming up in conversations with various individuals, I wanted to comment on it. This could be a while:


Jilly from Philly: "My new friend is handsome, African-American, intelligent and seemingly wealthy. He is an athlete, loves his momma, and is happily married to a White woman. I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped. But something in me just knew he didn’t marry a sister. Although my guess hit the mark, when my friend told me his wife was indeed Caucasian, I felt my spirit…wince. I didn’t immediately understand it. My face read happy for you. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress.

Was I jealous? Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul’s credibility? The answer is not simple. One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that’s not how I was brought up. I was reared in a Jehovah’s Witness household. I was taught that every man should be judged by his deeds and not his color, and I firmly stand where my grandmother left me. African people worldwide are known to be welcoming and open-minded. We share our culture sometimes to our own peril and most of us love the very notion of love. My position is that for women of color, this very common “wince” has solely to do with the African story in America.

When our people were enslaved, “Massa” placed his Caucasian woman on a pedestal. She was spoiled, revered and angelic, while the Black slave woman was overworked, beaten, raped and farmed out like cattle to be mated. She was nothing and neither was our Black man. As slavery died for the greater good of America, and the movement for equality sputtered to life, the White woman was on the cover of every American magazine. She was the dazzling jewel on every movie screen, the glory of every commercial and television show. She was unequivocally the standard of beauty for this country, firmly unattainable to anyone not of her race. We daughters of the dust were seen as ugly, nappy mammies, good for day work and unwanted children, while our men were thought to be thieving, sex-hungry animals with limited brain capacity.

We reflect on this awful past and recall that if a Black man even looked at a White woman, he would have been lynched, beaten, jailed or shot to death. In the midst of this, Black women and Black men struggled together, mourned together, starved together, braved the hoses and vicious police dogs and died untimely on southern back roads together. These harsh truths lead to what we really feel when we see a seemingly together brother with a Caucasian woman and their children. That feeling is betrayed. While we exert efforts to raise our sons and daughters to appreciate themselves and respect others, most of us end up doing this important work alone, with no fathers or like representatives, limited financial support (often court-enforced) and, on top of everything else, an empty bed. It’s frustrating and it hurts!

Our minds do understand that people of all races find genuine love in many places. We dig that the world is full of amazing options. But underneath, there is a bite, no matter the ointment, that has yet to stop burning. Some may find these thoughts to be hurtful. That is not my intent. I’m just sayin.’"

Les Misérables: I totally relate to where Jill Scott is coming from. I understand. I understand because my father idolized what was light, assumed to be right and he left my brown-skinned mother because of this. I understand because I'm still puzzled about the lack of representation for women of color in Hollywood. I understand because my grandmother raised five children alone while she cleaned White people's homes. I understand because, I've been told to my face that "Black girls aren't good enough. That's why I only deal with Latinas, mixed or White women." I just understand. Our history throughout the Americas are so entrenched in racism, how could you not understand? Unless, you don't know your history... but of course that would HAVE to be the case. Why else would I read such lame excuses, like, "which do black woman need blk men to make them happy? why cant people date who they want to date. im sorry but blk guys are never gonna stop dating other races because they are open to other things and exploring their options. Why cant blk woman stop bitching and start doing the same?" OR "As a black woman, I am sick & tired of hearing about black women "up in arms" about our men dating other races. Dare I say it, I'm even slightly embarrassed about it. I know white women have got to be laughing at us and can you blame them? I need for Jill and all other black women in agreement to step into 21st century. My sweet sistas... WE AIN'T IN SLAVERY NO MO'! Move on! "

Move on? Do you know that segregation hasn't even ended 50 years ago? There are generations alive and kicking who remember such a time, so how do we move on? Fifty years ago if a Black woman slept with a White man in the South, she was considered a witch and therefore undesirable. And why should we care that White women are laughing at us? Jill said she felt a sting, not hatred and she explained herself quite articulately so that the reader could at least see her point of view. I get it.

It seems as though my generation doesn't uphold any rules or justify dating within or outside their race, its just whatever attracts them is what usually fits the bill. And that's fine, I'm all for loving literally anyone. Its the excuses that are used in certain situations that causes one to wonder. We've all seen those pathetic Tyra show panels on race where she discusses why Black men only date outside of their race and she usually interviews the ignorant ones that make me cringe while blinking back tears. "Oh you know, Black women are goldiggers; they got this neck roll, that is so GHETTO; Black women complain too much; they aren't very submissive; Black women don't support a brutha when he's down and out." You know, those tired lame excuses that drudges up old hurtful insecurities which are infuriating. But where the hell is the two way street? Then you hear the Black women, "I want a baby with nice hair; Black men don't hold down jobs long enough; they are too insecure; I need, I need, I need..." Oh the endless quarrels about why Black men aren't good enough for us. All this goes down while the bewildered White people in the audience show an obvious lack of understanding about the Black community's woes.

If these women and men are in their late 20s to early 30s, what the hell are the younger ones that are coming going to say? We probably won't be a blip on their radar. But according to commenters of Jill's essay, it doesn't matter. Black men and women will cease to exist in a few generations time. Our history, our culture will soon be a distant memory if people don't realize that this "interracial thing" is bigger than attraction. Its about self-love, respect and ultimately preserving the Black race.