Blac Woman in a White Biini

This is a Summer Lovin' Contest Entry

All characters portrayed in this story are over the age of 18-years-old.

Please vote for my story.

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A hot summer day in Detroit versus a warm summer day in the Hamptons, this story is an abbreviated parody, a scaled down, modern-day version, and a stretch of Charles Dicken's A Tale of Two Cities.

Depending if you were born a man or a woman, or white or black, or rich or poor, it was the worst of times for some and the best of times for others. Assessing no blame and/or making no judgments, much like a dog, humans fall into habits of learned behavior. Whether their learned habits of behavior are good or bad, or right or wrong, that's what they know and all that they know. No matter if it's gender, a man versus a woman, or race, black versus white, or money, rich versus poor, it is what it is and what it will always be.

Seemingly, especially when it comes to race and to women, especially to women of color, nothing ever changes and everything remains the same. Suffice to say that women of color have a much harder time than white women, yet not as hard of a time as some black men. This summertime story is as much about race as it is about women, and as it is about me, Violet Christine. Yet, as do all my stories, unlike Toni Morrison's novel, The Bluest Eye, my story has a happy ending.

If anything, because so few have so much and so many have so little, hard times today are much worse than they ever were before. Even with all our technology, living life today is comparable to living life in the mid-19th century. Again, it is what it is with everything remaining the same and nothing ever changing.

Much by example, you do what you were taught to do and what you know to do. Accepting the good with the bad by taking one day at a time, you do what you need to do to survive. Most times, hopelessly fruitless to rebel, argue, challenge, and/or fight, either you conform to your surrounding conditions or you perish. Sadly, making lemonade when all you have are lemons, sometimes making the most of bad situations that have continually plagued your life is that simple and what you need to do to succeed. Don't think about it, quit complaining, take a chance, and as the Nike slogan encourages you to do, "Just do it."

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end," is attributed to an unknown writer.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: "Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."

So true. Sometimes, most times, when you think about what you must do every day, life is nothing more than utter nonsense. Since your life is ridiculous anyway, best you make the most of your time here on Earth. The best advice is to forget yesterday, concentrate on today, and don't worry about tomorrow. Che sera sera? Whatever will be will be? What you may think and believe is in your control, is out of your control. You have no control over anything, not even yourself.

Nonetheless your positive outlook, even when chasing your destiny, especially when going after your calling and your purpose in life, Murphy's Law always applies. "If anything can go wrong it will."

Ginsberg's doomsday theorems are sad realities of today, especially for minorities and people of color. "You can't win. You can't break even. You can't even quit the game."

Then, if that's not enough doom, Forsyth's Second Corollary to Murphy's Laws is this. "Just when you see the light at the end of the tunnel, the roof caves in."

What will we do if North Korea launches a nuclear missile at the United States? What they told school children in the fifties and sixties as our civil defense protection strategy didn't cut it then and won't cut it now. Duck and cover is the same as close your eyes and kiss your ass goodbye.

Only, the realities of a nuclear war are as much out of our control as the realities of our unimportant, little lives are and have always been. We are all pawns in a much bigger game of church versus state and God versus Aliens. Not even knowing where we fit in the scheme of things, all of us are doomed and are nothing more than collateral damage for those who mistakenly think that they're in control of us. Truth be told, unless they're God or a superior lifeform, no one is in control of anything and/or anyone in this cosmic universe.

The one, true absurdity of life that we know with certainty, sad but true, is that we're all going to die one day. Even then, we have no idea when we'll die and how we'll die. We have no idea what happens when we die. Is there Heaven and Hell, life after death, or are we just dead? Best we make the most of a bad situation and instead of ducking and covering, we go forth to find our way, our happiness, and our destiny. That's what Violet Christine did in this story. She found her way, her happiness, and her destiny.

# # # # #

Away from the built-up waterfront of downtown Detroit where all the monied, white folk go when not in the ritzy part of Grosse Pointe, it was another murderous, drug infested, crime riddled, hot, summer day in Forest Park, Detroit.

"911. What's your emergency?"

On the flip of the coin, whether you were born a man or woman, white or black, or rich or poor, who cares? It's done and it's all out of your control. What does it matter? Deal with whatever cards you were dealt. Boo the fuck who, we all have a sad story to tell. Except, sometimes perhaps, for rich, white people, no one leaves this Earth without pain and suffering.

As your mother would say, you must take the good with the bad. With everything so ridiculous, all you can do is to laugh. All you can do is to be happy. Yet, without a doubt, some folk have it easier than others. Every day, they laugh all the way to the bank. Whoever said that money doesn't make you happy is a liar.

If judging a book by its cover, if one look could sum up someone's life, this vision was it. Instead of kids playing in front of an opened fire hydrant hoping to cool off, the rich had their very own slice of paradise while sunning themselves on their private beach. On the other side of the country in La La Land, as far from Los Angeles as it was from Detroit, it was another carefree, beautiful, warm, summer day by the water in the Hamptons.

"More champagne, Tiffany?"

Tiffany smiled her cosmetically altered, puffy lips at her boyfriend.

"Yes, thank you, Chad. More champagne would be divine."

Just by the happenchance of birth, it's not fair how some can have so much while others have so little. A crying shame, it's not fair that some have such a promising future while others are doomed to have more of the same. No matter if a man or a woman, white or black, rich or poor, we all want the same things. We all want money enough to feed our children, pay our bills, and keep a roof over our heads.

With us all living on the same planet and in the same galaxy, we're all much the same. The one thing that we all have in common, whether man or woman, white or black, or rich or poor, we're all human. Are we not? I dare say that they'll never be an end to racial prejudice until an alien lifeform invades us. Then, it won't be white against black but humans against aliens.

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A little more than seven-hundred miles and eleven-hours away by car, going to the Hamptons from Detroit was like going to another world, an adult playground for the rich. As long as you had money, you were welcome to visit. If you had a lot of money, you were invited to stay and buy a nice house overlooking the ocean.

Yet, even if you had money, you weren't spared the indignities of being born black and/or a woman and being made to feel that you are a second-class citizen. Forget about being born black and/or a woman, even a mixed-race woman visiting a mostly white, affluent part of the country wasn't free from receiving curious stares, hateful looks, and ill-informed, racial judgments about her past. Just as no one appreciates a black person taking the job of a white person, more than one-hundred-fifty-years since President Lincoln with his Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves, ignorance and prejudice is still alive and well in America. Is it not?

With the 13th Amendment abolishing slavery, and the 14th Amendment making African-Americans United States citizens, it's been nearly one-hundred-fifty years since our government passed the 15th Amendment that allowed native-born, African American men the right to vote. It's been nearly 100-years since our government passed the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution granting women the right to vote in 1920. Seemingly back then, we thought more about giving the right to vote to black, American born men, than we did giving the right to vote to American born women.

"Get off my lawn," said Clint Eastwood as Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino. "Get out of my country! Go back home to Africa where you belong," has been the angry retort of the ignorant, white person.

Pardon my ignorance but allow me to understand. Wasn't it your ancestors the ones responsible for kidnapping black men and woman from Africa to work as free, slave labor. If I'm not mistaken, your ancestors were the ones who bred the big, black, bucks, with the most desirable, black women. We have NFL football and NBA basketball players because of you, ignorant, racially discriminating, white people.

Now that you allowed them to live as free men and women in your country, how dare you complain? How dare you blame the blacks for the messes that you made? Just as Ireland, England, Germany, France, Italy, or wherever the fuck your ancestors hailed from, are no longer your homes, Africa is no longer their home. Now that they're here and now that they're American citizens and given the right to vote, whether you like it or not, they're staying. Best you make room for them, shut the fuck up, and get off their lawns.

# # # # #

Doomed to revisit and repeat the tragedies of the past, the land of the unfree and the home of the enslaved, how dare we allow the KKK and white supremacists to return us back to the 19th century? How dare we allow such violent men to roam our streets with automatic weapons? Even when colored by and wrapped up in the red, white, and blue, sadly, this is still racist America, isn't it? NFL quarterback, Colin Kaepernick attests to that by kneeling every time the National Anthem is played. Good for him. Who can blame him?

As far as I'm concerned, because of the deplorable way our minorities are treated, they shouldn't be taxed. Being that minorities don't have the same unalienable rights as white people, why should they pay taxes? Just as our prison cells are made up of minorities, mostly black men, our military is made up of minorities, mostly black men too. Unless we start appreciating those who weren't fortunate to be born white men or white women, no man or woman of color should have to serve in the military and die for a country that discriminates against them.

Sadly and truthfully, a minority or a person of color isn't loved, cherished, respected, and/or safe living in America. How many times have we told immigrants to speak our language, even when they're multilingual and we only speak English? How many times have we told immigrants to go home, even when they were born here? Even an American Indian is scorned and treated like a second-class citizen. How dare we stick them all on a reservation, especially after we stole their land? At least we helped them to better themselves by allowing them to own casinos.

"God bless the American Indians. God bless America. God bless gamblers. God bless casinos. Place your bets. No more bets."

More professional, black athletes have taken to sit while the National Anthem is played. How can we blame them when black men and black women don't have the same rights as white men and white women? No police officer would dare put a white couple down on the ground when they were wearing their Sunday best clothes in the way that black couples are routinely forced to get down on the ground for the slightest traffic violation. How dare they unfairly treat someone and/or disrespect someone just because they're black or a minority?

# # # # #

"Get on your knees girl and suck my dick," said Tyron to his girlfriend, Shonice.

Even though he showed her little respect by treating her like a whore, Tyrone was accustomed to treating women like whores. Falling into habits of learned behavior whether good or bad, he did what he learned to do from examples set by the men around him while surviving the dangerous streets of Detroit. Especially when it comes to women of color, it is what it is and what it will always be. Too many black men treat their women as bad as white men treat black women. Whether black or white or poor or rich, women were things to be used and abused to make men money, to make him money, and to make a small man feel powerful.

Much lower on the Caucasian hierarchy chart of gender and race, with white men first and white women second, black men third, black women fourth, Hispanics fifth, and Asians sixth, American Indians came in dead last. Being that only WASPs, white Anglo-Saxon people are believed to be born with souls, everyone else are deemed mud people, especially Mexicans and those people who live outdoors without running water and/or electricity. With no race being accepting of them, mixed-race people were placed toward the bottom of the chart. Sadly, no matter where you placed on the chart, if you weren't born a white man, you were screwed.

Yet, unlike Shonice to allow any man to disrespect her and to treat and use her in that violent way, doing what she learned to do by surviving the inner-city, she obediently obeyed her man. Assuming the position, she moved to her knees and took Tyrone's erect prick in her hand to stroke him before taking him in her mouth to suck him. Staring up at her man with her big, brown, beautiful eyes, she gave him what he wanted and expected her to give him. She gave him a blowjob. She stroked his big, black prick while sucking his big, black dick.

Being that his wasn't the first cock she sucked and no doubt his wouldn't be the last cock she sucked, she expected him to give her what she wanted, a summer vacation somewhere nice away from Detroit. Trading this for that, no matter how many cocks she sucked in the past, she only sucked black cocks and now, she only sucked his cock. She never had sex with a white man nor wanted to have sex with a white man. Unlike Tyrone who was racially accepting when it comes sex, he embraced all women no matter what color and age they were. Preferring one-hundred-dollar bills, he embraced all currency of money too.

He reached behind Shonice's black, pretty head to pull her mouth forward. Holding her in place with a heavy hand, as if her mouth was his gloryhole, he moved his hips back and forth while humping her mouth and fucking her face. Not stopping there, he reached inside her low-cut blouse and stuck his hand inside her bra to feel her big tit while fingering her already erect nipple. If there was a woman who he could have a future with to marry and have kids, with her standing up to him as she does, as long as she shut her mouth and obeyed, Shonice was the woman.

Not only was she very pretty but also, she had a full, round, black ass. She had the kind of black ass that all black men lusted over and wanted their women to have. Oh, yeah, baby had back. She had a nice mouth with big, full, cock sucking lips too. Moreover, she was a woman who knew how to suck cock. Unfortunately, a street hustler and a pimp, Tyrone's only criteria in judging women were their looks and their sexual abilities. Other than talking about things on the surface, he didn't have the time or the inclination to go deeper in conversation with anyone, especially with a woman.

"Hey! Yo, mother fucker," said Shonice removing his cock from her mouth to speak while moving her head away from his hand. She put her hand to the back of her head to fix her hair. "Don't be touching my weave."

He moved his hand from the back of her head to the back of her shoulder before impaling her mouth again with his dick.

"Sorry," he said knowing better than to touch a black woman's hair. "My bad."

Eager for him to get it over with, she resumed sucking him while stroking her boyfriend harder and faster. Once she made him hard enough, instead of cumming in her willing mouth, he reached down for her. Helping her to her feet, as if taking her instead of making love to her, he pushed her face down on his bed. He lifted her short skirt, pulled down her pink panties, and mounted her as if a rapist instead of her boyfriend. Not even taking the time to sexually arouse her, he spat in his hand to wet her pussy with his fingers.

"What the fuck, Tyrone. Hell, no," she said standing. She pulled up her panties and pushed down her short skirt. She put her hand to her hip and rocked her head back and forth as if she was a bobble head doll. "Back the fuck off, fool. You ain't gonna fuck me. Uhh-uh," she said waving her manicured index finger in his face. "Get real. You ain't even wearing a rubber," she said looking at him as if he was some chump she met in a bar that took her out to the back alley for something nasty or to his Cadillac Escalade for sex.

Tyrone looked at Shonice as if she was crazy. He looked at her as if she was kidding. He looked at her as if she was sexually teasing him by playing hard to get.

'C'mon girl. I needs to get me some and you needs to give me some," said Tyrone.

As if she was back in the hood instead of at a nice motel, Shonice waved her manicured index finger in his face again.

"Back the fuck off nigga. You ain't getting any of this," she said striking a pose while moving her hands down her sexy, shapely body as if she was a Price Is Right model showing a showcase. "Until you give me some of that," said Shonice rubbing and thumb with her index and middle finger as her sign that she wanted him to give her money. "You feel me, dog? You feel me?"

Obviously not used to anyone saying no to him, he looked at her as if there was something wrong with her. He looked at her as if she wasn't right in the head. If she was a woman from his stable disrespecting him in the way that Shonice had just disrespected him, he would have slapped her already before forcing himself on her.

"Say what, sister?" He made an angry face as if he wanted to slap her instead of having sex with her. He continued making an angry face at her as if he wanted to shoot her instead of fuck her. Ordinarily, especially if she was a woman from his stable, he'd push her back on the bed, strip her naked, and have his wicked, sexual way with her even if it meant him raping her. "What's wrong with you woman? Is you on the rag or somethin'?"

She put her hand to her shapely hip again to return his angry look with her face filled with attitude. As if she was an immovable object, she stood her ground. Ain't no one tougher than a black woman when she's feeling disrespected. Ain't no one tougher than a black woman when she thinks she's not getting what she deserves. Ain't no one tougher than a black woman when she knows she's right.

"Hell no, brother. I ain't no fool and what we have ain't like that," she said shaking her index finger at him again. "You have enough baby mama's in the hood and I ain't 'bout to be another one of them," she said accenting her words and punctuating her sentences with her manicured finger. "You ain't going to saddle me with a ten-minute love child and never to call me again."

As if her finger was her weapon of choice, a razor that cut deep, she waved her index finger at him again as if it was a warning sign at a railroad crossing.