By PW Brown
“What about you?”
Sharon looked puzzled. “What about me?”
“Would you go for someone like Kyle?”
“Alea, I told you. He’s made some subtle hints a couple of times when we were out on the road. But I can’t get involved with someone I work with, especially my boss.”
Alea shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What?”
“Would you go out with a white guy?”
“Girl please! After what I’ve been through with my ‘EX’, a white guy or any man who’s not a brotha is probably what I need.” She looked at Alea oddly. “What’s wrong? Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah. I have to admit, I am a little shocked.” Holding up her hand like a crossing guard signaling pedestrians to stop, “I don’t think I could do it.”
Sharon waved for the waiter. “Why? Brothas have been doin’ it for years.” As the
waiter came over, Sharon pointed at their empty glasses. “Why should we be any different?”
“I hear ya. I’m not looking for someone else, but I don’t think I could get past the … uh um, the …” Alea stumbled over her words. “You know - our history with white men.”
“You mean like back in the day when they just had their way with us?”
“Yeah!”
“Look, Alea, that was a long time ago. We’ve gotta get past that. Besides, sistahs don’t have a lot of choices. Think about it. One-third of our brothas are in jail, and another
third ain’t about nothin’. If my math is right, that leaves one-third left. Bottom line, we don’t have many options.”
“I don’t know if I buy that. There are plenty of available black men out there. Look at this place.” She pointed at the bar. “There plenty of ‘em.”
They both looked around the bar. Sharon gave Alea a cold grin but didn’t reply.
“All right,” Alea said. “I admit the bar’s lacking a little color, but here in North’rn VA, brothas don’t hang out in places like this.”
“That’s my point. Of the remaining eligible brothas, we’ve lost a lot of ‘em to white, Asian, Hispanic, or whatever women. Like my ‘EX’, some think they’re God’s gift to women, and you can’t tell ‘em shit. That leaves a very small percentage of decent brothas out there who are worth pursuing.” Sharon paused. “Lately, I’ve noticed there are many of us doin’ it now. I never saw it before. It was like I was blind to it. But now, I see white men and black women together all the time.”
Trying not to show too much curiosity, Alea nodded. “You’re right. I see it more, too.”
Sharon nodded. “It ain’t nothin’ to be shocked about. Think about it – Look at the make-up of today’s workforce. There are more blacks graduating from college, but most of these are women. When you put all those motivated, educated sistahs out in the workforce, they’ll definitely have more contact with white men.” She took another sip of her wine. “Look at us. How many brothas have you seen at some of those high-powered executive luncheons or corporate meetings we go to all the time?”
“Very few.” Alea agreed.
“Now, I don’t think white men see us as equal, but I believe the constant contact with them results in more interracial relationships.” Sharon downed the last of her wine. “You know what? Folks can talk about me all they want, but at the end of the day, it’s about love, respect, and happiness.”
“More power to you, girlfriend,” Alea said as she depleted the rest of her drink.
PW Brown is a profile writer for emPower magazine. The article is an excerpt from his published novel, DRAPER'S PASSION. He can be reached at [email protected] and more information on his book can be found at www.draperspassion.com.
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