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During a bathroom break or a trip to the bar, I’ll check my phone, and almost always there is a news alert telling me Donald Trump is attempting to curtail, or has just succeeded in curtailing, the rights of marginalized people in America.It’s an odd thing to then go back to my date and continue the performance of “getting to know you.” I fantasize about walking up to him and saying, “Gotta go!
In the past, I’d have sought that comfort out in a white man, but that night I knew it wouldn’t be enough.
It’s not that I don’t think white people are anxious; two months into Trump’s presidency, most of the white people in my life are activated.
What I’m craving right now from a partner — more than feeling beautiful, more than anything — is a “black nod” version of a relationship.
I know a man isn’t going to get me through the Trump era.
Later, I tried to convey how hurt I was that he didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem to understand how bewildered I was.
There are, in my relationships with white men, so many moments like that.
No matter how close I held the mirror up to their faces, sometimes their good and liberal wells of understanding and compassion were simply inaccessible.
On election night, I thought about all those moments, and I felt overwhelmed at the possibility of taking that on over the next four years.
In those moments, I’ve wished to be sitting in front of someone who could relate.
Despite knowing I can feel intimacy with white guys, right now what divides us feels like a chasm.
The store had some, but none that matched my skin tone. Once, in my late 20s, my boyfriend and I were stopped by police, and I quickly became frantic about the weed in the car.