Racism has always made me uncomfortable, especially racism and prejudice against our own people. Interracial couples do not bother me, however, I would be lying if I said that I do not give the side eye to black males who date white females. I remember in seventh grade I had a crush on an African American boy. One day my friend told him that I liked him and he came up to me and said that he did not like black girls. He said that if I were white that he would date me. I was confused. He did not say he did not like me because I was not pretty, or because I was weird. It was just because I was black. It was after that moment that I began to lack respect for black men who date white women.

One of my guy friend's has a best friend (who is African American). We have never gotten along because of the fact that he despises black women but at the same time praises white women for having black features. Every time we were together he would always say something rude about me or about black women in general. He would make statements such as, black girls are so ugly; I wish my mom was white; and black girls make me sick. We would argue and dispute all the time. It had gotten to the point where we could not be in the same room together. I made a decision to hold my tongue when he was around in order to not start any kind of altercation, so asking him to hang out was an extremely difficult task for me to do.

I am the worst at swallowing my pride. I am extremely stubborn and stuck in my own ways. Contacting him was super awkward. I was terrified to call him because I have not talked to him in over a year. I knew that he would be shocked that I was calling him and even more surprised that I was asking him to go out to lunch with me. I stared at my cell phone for thirty minutes before I finally dialed his number. I have never been so nervous just to call someone. After three rings, he picked up the phone. I told him that I wanted to talk through our issues and possibly start a friendship. To my surprise he agreed and told me to meet him at our local Cookout on that Friday. When I hung up I felt relieved but I knew that this process was not over yet, it was just beginning.

As Friday was approaching, my nerves began to skyrocket more and more. I prayed every night leading up to that day and asked God to open and soften my heart. I asked Him to help me with my anger and judgment towards him and to listen to what he had to say instead of arguing like we usually do. Friday came in a flash. I knew that this conversation would be difficult for me because of the prejudice I have towards men like him. I knew that it was going to be hard to listen to him belittle black women and praise white women. I thought about all of this as I drove to Cookout. He was already there sitting at one of the outdoor tables when I pulled up. My heart began to beat rapidly when we made eye contact. I started to have second thoughts. I considered pulling out of the parking space and driving back home as fast as I could, but I knew that I would regret doing that. I refuse to let fear control my actions. I stepped out of my car and proceeded to the table he was sitting at. When I sat down we just kind of stared at each other in silence. The awkwardness was killing me and I could tell it was making him uncomfortable too. Finally he asked me why did I call him. I looked down and started to bite my nails, something I always do when I am nervous.

I did not want to beat around the bush so I looked him straight in the eye asked him why he hated black women. He looked taken aback and he began to move around in his chair a lot and said,

“I just never have, I guess. I don’t hate them, but I just don’t like them.”

I could feel my blood boiling, but I knew I needed to contain what I was feeling.

I sighed deeply and asked, “But why though? You talk about us like we’re trash. You belittle us and call us hideous creatures but go crazy over white women with big lips and big butts. I just don’t understand how you as a black male can treat us like this. I don’t understand how you can talk about black women like that. How can you say that you wish your mom was white? What did we do to you?”

He was silent.

I kept staring at him to see his reaction. I was hoping that I would see some kind of remorse or guilt, but I could not read what he was thinking.

He sat up straighter and said, “I just never have, okay. I don’t think black women are trash, I just don’t find them attractive and I don’t like how they act. You all act like you’re dominant and you guys are always angry. I just see white girls as a prize I guess. I can’t see myself with a black girl. To be honest, I hate the fact that I am black. I guess you can say that I just don’t like black people in general.”

I looked at him in shock. He just admitted to me that he hated himself. He hated the fact that he was black and because of that he hated everyone that was black. It all made sense now.

I would have never guessed self hatred. You would think that would be the obvious conclusion but it was not to me. I just assumed he hated us for no reason. I felt sad for him. I wanted to know why he hated being black, but I was not able to find out because he had to leave.

“I’m really sorry by the way." He told me this before he stepped into his car and drove away.

I kept thinking about our conversation and about what he had said. I still continue to think about it. I wish I could help him realize how amazing it is to be an African American. I wish I could give him some black pride. Now when I think about him, I do not feel hatred but rather sadness and pity. I am glad that I had that conversation with him. I do not believe that we will ever be best friends but now I can be in the same room as him and not want to kill him. This conversation has really opened up my eyes and has helped me to not judged somebody so quickly. It has helped me realize that everyone is dealing with their own demons and his self hatred is his struggle. I now pray for him. I pray for every black person who hates the fact that they are black. I really hope that one day he can love himself for who he is and to realize that being African American is a blessing and not a curse.