Jewish Girls for Haitian Boyz

Salutations, dear readers. My name is Salome Rosenthal and I got a story to share with you. I was born in the City of Toronto, Ontario, to a Jamaican immigrant mother, Joanne Watson, and a Jewish father of English descent, Ephraim James Rosenthal. Being a biracial Jewish Canadian woman in the Confederation of Canada isn't easy. There's a lot of racism in the Jewish Canadian community. Of course, good Jews aren't supposed to talk about it. We're supposed to pretend that everything is hunky dory.

I've never been one to follow the crowd. In the household where I grew up, I was encouraged to be bold and speak my mind. My parents are both mavericks, you see. My mother's conversion from Roman Catholicism to Judaism wasn't well-received by her family, nor did my father's uptight Jewish Canadian family liked the fact that their son married a Black woman from the Caribbean. I guess you could say that the odds of my parents coming together were astronomical, but nevertheless, they got married and stuck together.

At the time of this story, I was nineteen years old, a first-year student in the criminology program at the University of Toronto. College is an exciting time in a young person's life, or so I have been told. I'm finding university life supremely stressful. The University of Toronto campus is lively and racially diverse, but as a mixed-race woman I still stand out. I'm six feet tall, with light brown skin, long curly black hair and lime-green eyes. From my father I got my height, and I think I get my curves from my mama. I am only me, I guess.

Like I said, I stand out but that's not a bad thing as far as I am concerned. The City of Toronto is full of immigrants of African, Arab and Asian descent. Lots of mixed-race folks around. I'm friends with this chick named Jacqueline Vincent, originally from the City of Montreal, Quebec. Jacqui's father James Vincent is Haitian and her mother Suzanne Saint Preux is French Canadian. We met the first day of school and instantly clicked. Honestly, I know a lot of girls say that about their best pal but Jacqui is the sister I never had but always wanted.

While in my sociology class, I met someone I shall simply never forget. Joseph Mathieu, a six-foot-two, lean and athletic, dark-skinned and extremely handsome brother from the island of Haiti. Joseph is good friends with Suzanne and she introduced me to him. Apparently, Suzanne and Joseph went to the same Catholic school in Montreal. Small world, eh? I've always had a thing for tall, dark-skinned brothers. Unfortunately for me, my parents are racist.

I bet you that one is a definite shocker for you. My parents are racist, and I'm the daughter of a Black female/White male couple. My Dad has a die-hard hatred of Black guys, and considers them violent sexual animals. His words, not mine. As for my Mom, she once had a boyfriend back in Jamaica who beat her and she's estranged from her own family, especially her Dad, my grandfather, so, yeah, she doesn't much care for Black guys either. I grew up hearing absolutely nothing positive about Black males from my parents.

In high school, I had a crush on a young Black guy named Ibrahim, a Somali dude, and I was ecstatic when I found out he liked me too. We began seeing each other in secret because I knew my parents wouldn't approve. Ibrahim and I had been dating for six months when we finally got caught. We were at the Eaton Center with some friends, and guess who happened to be walking by as Ibrahim and I held hands while riding the elevator? My Dad, of course. Dad walked up to us, looked at Ibrahim and I with a disgusted look on his face, and told me how disappointed he was in me for my "poor choice of associates".

I looked at my father defiantly and told him that Ibrahim was my boyfriend. Angrily Dad grabbed my arm and told me we were going home. Ibrahim told Dad to leave me alone, and my father told my boyfriend that he had money and connections with the police. Scoffing at my father, Ibrahim looked at me and told me he'd see me at school. I waved Ibrahim goodbye, and when I got home, my parents gave me a lengthy lecture, cut off my allowance and threatened to give me a curfew. I refused to back down, and told them I loved Ibrahim. That's when my own mother slapped the shit out of me, ladies and gentlemen.

Before that shocking moment, I honestly cannot remember my mother ever hitting me. Shocked, I stared at her silently. My mother shook her head and told me to go to my room. Sobbing, I did just that. Ibrahim and I broke up shortly after that. I was simply not ready to deal with all the hoopla that came with being in a relationship with someone that my parents disapproved of. I was in high school. Looking back, I regret not standing up to my parents. Ibrahim was heartbroken when I ended our relationship. I didn't have a spine in those days. I am ashamed of how weak I used to be. I'm stronger than that now. I'm my own woman.

That's why I decided to follow my heart after I took a liking to the handsome Joseph Mathieu. Good Jewish girls aren't supposed to date guys from other faiths and communities, but I'm not a good Jewess. I'm my own woman. I date whoever I want. My parents don't approve of my fondness for Black men but I don't care. I'm on OSAP at U of T and I also work part-time, so I can actually afford my own place. That's the key to independence, ladies and gentlemen.

Joseph Mathieu and I are taking things slow. The dude is sexy and oh so charming and I really want a piece of him. The waiting is killing me but I think he's worth it. We're both supremely busy with our studies. He's in the business program at University of Toronto and also works part-time at a call center. We make time for each other, though. Joseph is patient, friendly, easygoing and always makes me laugh. I'm excited about where this is going to take us. Wish us luck, eh?