black men

My husband is downstairs watching the latest Chris Rock special. I am typing away on the laptop in our bedroom while our beautiful three year old daughter watches Winnie the Pooh on Playhouse Disney. Sounds pretty common for both the UK, which is my husband’s native country, and the US, mine. Other than my little fetish for writing erotica, out family is not terribly different than the Cleavers of Leave It to Beaver. I have been a stay-at-home mom for several months now. I try very hard to always have the house straight and dinner on the table by the time that my husband comes home from work each day. He works, overtime when necessary, to support not only his family but my older children from my first marriage. Our daughter is a typical bright, beautiful and rambunctious three years old.



So why even write about this boringly ‘normal’ family? Because we break all stereo-types. My husband is black British of Afro-Caribbean descent. His father and mother, who have been married for over forty years, worked sometimes more than one job to provide for their three sons. My brother-in-laws each are the primary care-givers for their children. We even live right next door to one another. In all honesty, my in-laws are the most functional family I have seen since the Waltons. Unlike Debra from Everybody Loves Raymond, I enjoy living next to my mother-in-law. In fact in my bad moments that any marriage will have, I tell my husband I could never divorce him because I might lose his mother. I have found in my in-laws the family that I have dreamt of since growing up in a much more dysfunctional one.



I was prompted to write this essay, which I am sure will inadequately communicate only a fraction of what I feel and know about interracial marriages, by three recent events. One was a Chris Rock monologue that I caught while getting cookies and milk for my daughter. He was going on and on in stereo-typical fashion about why black men prefer white women and why black women resent it. The second was a simple post in the Literotica forum…is it true about black men. The other was a public comment to a story I wrote. The anonymous writer said in essence that once their seed was planted black men only came around to collect the welfare check. They based this generalization upon a neighbour.



I recognize that there are some men of all races, who fit this dead beat dad image; including my upper-class white ex-husband who does not pay support or even phone his children. I know too that for some people what I write will have no impact upon their prejudices. Yet, I want to share with those of you with more open minds some very personal moments that illustrate the complexities of any family life, but especially the struggles of mixed families such as ours. One of the things that bothered me most about the comment I received was that, besides my mother-in-law, the other thing that glues me and my hot black man together is our daughter. He is absolutely the best dad in the world and she has him wrapped completely around her little choco-loca-moca finger. Yet he is also the firm hand of discipline when necessary; a look or a certain tone from daddy accomplishing what I could not. The other night is a picture I shall hold in my mind for all time, and which I am certain my mere words will fail to communicate to my readers. My hot black husband came in from work after a hard day, but we needed something from the corner store so he picked up his coat. Our daughter ran to him, wrapped her little arms about his leg and sat on the top of his foot. Looking up into her daddy’s face that is mirrored so identically in her lighter one, she kept saying over and over, ‘Good daddy. Wuv Daddy.’ No marriage is perfect, but when our rough patches come that will forever be an impetus to work just a little harder, compromise just a little more, and love just a little deeper.



Like I said, I know there are many myths and misconceptions out there about black men and white women. I know I will change few minds with this essay, but a girl has got to try. I doubt Chris Rock is going to change his top selling comedy routine to reflect the complexities of our reality. Although I do take great solace in the excellent portrayal of a strong black father in his hit television show Everybody Hates Chris. And I am sure that the anonymous review, I received today, which oddly enough gave me a 100 rating, will not be the last to misunderstand the context of my work as a writer. I hope that those of my new fans will though discover in the coming tomes that I find great joy, freedom and security in the arms of my hot black husband. I am sure some will wonder why the black even matters and on some level it does not, anymore than the man, who prefers blondes or red-heads. Why should women who are attracted to men of another race need to justify or defend it anymore than that man?



As for those myths:



Penises come in all sizes in all races. It is in the motion of the ocean, but any woman that has ridden a black wave knows that the surfing is very good.



I personally believe that just as some people are born attracted to the same sex, others are born attracted to other races. Even at six, I thought Michael Jackson cuter than Donny Osmond. One of the sexiest and most erotic photos I have is of my husband’s dark hand entwined with my pale one to show off my brand new engagement ring. Although completely innocent and very symbolic of the depth of an interracial relationship, the tone-on-tone of that photograph can make me wet to this day.



I also think that the role-play can be quite fun, and sadly to say that reviewer was commenting on one of my stories that centred around a great deal of that sort of thing, but if my readers look closely they will discover a mutual respect in all my stories. Even after four years together, I am not above telling hubby I need his big black cock. Is that demeaning to either of us? I do not think any more so than terms used in a Dom/sub relationship or a loving wife, who supports and comments on her transvestite husband’s make-up or clothes. We all need our little games.



Since I am actively participating in the 2009 Survivorphile, my readers will be seeing many more of my stories. Some of them may appear as I said almost stereo-typical, because I have enjoyed and still do the fabulous role-play that is ripe with the taboo of interracial love. I challenge you to read more closely; my respect for and love of black men is always there. I refer to my first black lover as my Dark Knight for a reason; he served valiantly if briefly in this queen’s court. In my longer novels, you will find that I have more chance to develop my strong black male heroes more completely. They are breath-taking in their complexities, but so too are the women they love. Occasionally, my reader will even glimpse other men and women of all races, who were either in my adventurous life or over-active imagination my lovers. If I write a tad too much of black men, please forgive me. After almost forty years as the repressed child of my upbringing, I find the freedom to express my admiration, fascination and devotion to black men; their minds, souls and bodies; to be extremely liberating. Hopefully for my readers as well.

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