Quebec Women Rule

The name is Seraphim Joseph. A big and tall Black man of Haitian descent living in the town of Nepean, Province of Ontario. I attend nearby Algonquin College, where I'm taking up the Program of Police Foundations. I want to work for the Ontario Provincial Police someday. After I graduate from Algonquin College, I'm heading straight to Carleton University. I want to earn my Criminology degree. If you're Black and male and you're trying to get ahead in Canada, the more education you have the better. I am twenty five years old and I've been in Canada for about three years ago. Long enough to become a permanent resident but not enough to feel at home in this ice cube.

The life of a Black man in North America is never easy, folks. I just broke up with my long-time girlfriend Rachel Stefan. My favourite Jamaican princess dumped me out of the blue one day. She just couldn't be with a broke Black man like myself a second longer. She needed a man with more money. That's what she told me, I swear. Man, I never thought this would happen to me. Ditched by a gold digger. I knew Rachel was ambitious but I never thought she would take it this far. Seriously. She's at the University of Ottawa, and wants to be a corporate big shot someday. Well, that's okay with me. What's not okay was her way to dispatching me. She flat out told me that she'd been banging this Jewish guy named Matthew behind my back. And she was leaving me for him. Cold, isn't she?

A lot of Black women in the Confederation of Canada are calling us Black men sell-outs when we date outside the race. Yet they see nothing wrong with belittling us for dating interracially while they're walking around with Arab guys, Hispanic guys, White guys and even Asian guys. Kind of a sketchy double standard, isn't it? The same Black woman who hates seeing Black men with White women is also into dating White guys. It's amazing. Well, after what Rachel did to me I swore to myself that I would never date a Black woman again. Seriously. The Black women I meet in Canada are out to use you and dispatch you. They can't love the Black man. They see us as dirt-bags and view men of other races as knights in shining armour. Yet they get mad when we get tired of their stank attitude and date outside the race.

Man, I think I am finally seeing the light. Black women in North America seem to hate the Black male more than the racist police force does. How about that? I never thought I would join the ranks of the so-called Black male sell-outs. Those Black men who dare to date and even marry women of other races. The way I see it, the life of the Black male in North America is short and fraught with pain and danger. The last thing we need is a perpetually angry Black woman who is programmed to hate our guts simply for being Black and male and worship White men as god-like figures.

Sometimes, I feel like it's a curse to be Black and male. Seriously. The whole world is always against us. Men and women of all races, including Black women, hate our guts. Why? What did we do to them? I don't know when the whole world got together and decided that one branch of humanity, the Black male, should bear the brunt of its abuse. And I honestly don't give a fuck. I'm alone out there. Black women don't have my back. They're too busy worshiping White men. I call it the Kevin Costner/Bodyguard Syndrome. The President of the United States of America is a Black man. The Governor of the State of Massachusetts is a Black man. The Mayor of Amos City in the Canadian Province of Quebec is a Black man. Black men prove over and over that they're just as good as White men. Yet Black women can't stop worshiping these pale bastards. Oh, well.

I once thought the biggest threat to a Black male's existence would be the handgun at the hands of a racist White policeman. I never thought so many of our problems came from negative relationships with Black women. My father, Henry Joseph is a policeman in the City of Cap-Haitien, the Republic of Haiti's second largest City. He's the kind of man people look up to. The good policeman who takes on the bad guys. He's saved hundreds of lives over a thirty-year career. He's my Dad, my inspiration and my role model. He's the reason why I left the Republic of Haiti to study in the Confederation of Canada. I want to follow in his footsteps and become a policeman. Carry on the family name, you know? My father is an amazing man.

Yet you'd never hear anything of the sort from my mother, Annabelle Magloire Joseph. She's always bad-mouthing. Before you say it, let me make it clear. He's a nice man. He doesn't cheat on her. He doesn't abuse her physically or mentally. He's always there for her when she needs it. In fact, she's the one who drinks, gets into fights and sleeps around. Mommy dearest, folks. I once caught my mom in bed with a twenty-year-old guy named Mitchell, whom I went to school with. How about that? One of a thousand memories I really don't frigging need. I just wanted to let you people know that there are good fathers and bad mothers in the Black community. The moms aren't always saints and the fathers aren't always irresponsible or abusive. Alright? Please don't believe everything the media tells you about Black fathers the world over. Most of them are good men who care for their families and they're trying their best. Often against overwhelming odds.

I came to the Confederation of Canada as a young man with a dream. I want to do my father proud. I wanted to find a beautiful, educated and loving Black woman to marry once I began working as a policeman after graduating from University. Unfortunately, somebody forgot to tell me that Black women in North America don't believe in Black Love anymore. The sad thing is that even after what Rachel did to me, I still had much love and affection for Black women. Why shouldn't I? They're our sisters, our mothers and our lovers. I remember my grandmother, Grandma Mercy. A loving and kindly old lady who took care of me while my folks went to work. I also remembered numerous Black women I knew while growing up in the Republic of Haiti. They were so kind, loving and strong. Always supporting the men in their lives. Always upholding their communities. Often while facing terrible circumstances. Why can't the Black women of North America be as strong, nurturing and capable as the Haitian women I remember so fondly? I don't know.

Man, enough about women! I decided to focus on my schoolwork. I aced my classes at Algonquin College and graduated among the top five percent of my class in the Police Foundations program. Carleton University welcomed me with open arms. I sent my father a copy of my diploma, along with numerous pictures of me and my classmates at graduation. Told you I wanted to do my old man proud, didn't I? At Carleton University, mere minutes from Algonquin College, I experienced a brand new world. There were lots of Black women and Black men from all over the place at Carleton, along with Asians, Hispanics and Arabs. The school was definitely not lily-White. And I really liked that. I felt right at home, you know?

I met quite a few friendly, pretty young Black women. I went on a couple of dates and I had fun. However, none lit my fire. After what happened with Rachel, I was afraid to get hurt. No Black man wants to get dumped by a Black woman for a White man. It really hurts. Every time I went on a date with a Black woman, I kept wondering if she's the type to see Black men as losers and thinks of White men as gods. A lot of Black women feel that way. I know what you're thinking. I'm really insecure. I know it. I'm trying really hard to get over it. I'm one of the best students in the Criminology program at Carleton University. I outperform White guys, Asian guys and Arab guys. Us Haitian guys are a really studious lot, especially if we're directly from the old country. The Canadian students were really surprised to see a Black male student doing so well academically. White folks always underestimate the intellectual capacities of the Black male. That's why they lost the White House to my man U.S. President Obama.

One day, something happened which really surprised me. Someone challenged me in class. My challenger was a six-foot-tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed lady from the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. This Quebecoise was none other than Amelia Saint-Preux. She was my only rival in the Criminology program. The professor surprised the hell out of me by pairing me with her on a class project. I didn't like the idea of working with my rival. And to be honest, I don't really like White women. They act like they own the world. And they think every Black man wants them. I'm not into White women. I want a Black woman who can treat me right as a Black man. With those thoughts in mind, I began working with Amelia.

The Quebecoise was smarter than I gave her credit for. Our project involved the issue of gender bias in sentencing in criminal courts across North America. I expected Amelia to be like a typical collegiate feminist and make the argument that women always got the short end of the stick. She surprised me by arguing that gender bias in courts often allowed women to get away with murder. Wow. To say that I was shocked would have been an understatement. This lady positively made my mind spin. I simply wasn't expecting this from her. I added my two cents, and we talked about the courts disparate treatment of infamous North American Serial Killers like Karla Homolka and Ted Bundy. One got away, the other was made to pay. Both were guilty as sin. Our presentation dazzled the class with its brilliance. We got an A, folks. I surprised both Amelia and myself by inviting her to coffee to celebrate. She acquiesced, and I met her at a Tim Horton's in downtown Ottawa.

Amelia showed up looking lovely in a bright red dress. I was surprised. I only wore a blue T-shirt and Black jeans. We sat down and talked about anything and nothing. She was all smiles as she asked me all kinds of questions. The kind of questions I found irritating to be honest. Why did she want to know if I were single? I should have known. She kind of liked me. Unfortunately, I'm not that good at reading the opposite sex. And I can be painfully shy at times. Fortunately, Amelia was the take-chare type. Especially when she wanted something...or someone. She was squeezing my hand throughout our 'date'. And by the end of it, she kissed me. That's how it happened. The impossible. I got kissed by a White woman. And I liked it. Next thing I knew, Amelia and I were exchanging numbers. And making plans. I began dating her. And you know what? I'm happy!

It's been a year and Amelia and I are still going strong. I think I've fallen in love with the lovely Quebecoise. And she loves me too. We're quite happy together. A lot of people dismiss us as just another Black guy/White chick couple in heat or something. Especially by Black women...including those with White boyfriends. I find it kind of funny. Amelia resents that, actually. We're actually a very intellectual couple. We spend our evenings playing chess, discussing Nietzsche and Voltaire...and making love. My father is coming to the City of Ottawa for a visit in early 2011. I can't wait to see him. I want to introduce him to my future bride. I think my father and my future wife are going to get along just fine. They're the people who matter the most to me. Peace. This brother is officially out of here!