White Night for Blac Woman

I'm sick and tired of Black men, seriously. They walk around all cocky and full of themselves, thinking that a sister's always ready to put up with their bullshit. As if! I've got men of all races chasing after me wanting a sniff of my brown sugar and honestly, I'm widening my horizons. The name is Yasmina Hafiz and I'm a six-foot-tall, curvaceous and pretty young Black woman of Somali descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was brought up in a Muslim household but I considered myself Agnostic since my folks died in a terrible plane accident. I hold an MBA from Carleton University and presently work for the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce as an account manager. I'm beautiful, educated and successful. Who says a Black woman can't have it all?

I met Dale Kensington while walking through the Saint Laurent Mall and he was mighty fine as far as white guys went. Tall and lean, with reddish brown hair and alabaster skin. Oh, and he's got the sweetest and most dreamy blue eyes. Dale told me he worked for the Canadian government and recently moved to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, from his hometown of Calgary, Alberta. I've been to provincial Alberta and I am rather fond of Calgary and Edmonton. The prairies are a fun place to be. Don't believe the redneck reputation of Alberta. The place is vibrant and full of immigrants nowadays.

When we first met, Dale asked me out and I happily agreed, and I'm happy to say that we got chemistry. The first time we hooked up, sixteen days after our first date, the sex was awesome. Dale wasn't as well-endowed as I'd hoped but he could lick pussy really good and had good stamina. He fucked me like I asked him to, nice and slow, and I had fun. Yeah, I was happy to be one of those sisters walking around the City of Ottawa, holding hands with a white dude and smiling like the world is my oyster.

Long live interracial love, as long as it's a white dude and a black chick. I can't stand black men who date white women. To me, that type of interracial love is not acceptable. Especially when the black man appears to be happy with the white woman in question. Whenever I see one of them couples, I get really mad. If Dale is with me, I clutch his arm tightly to show him off to any black man who happens to be walking by. To me, my white knight in shining armor is the ultimate trophy. For in my eyes he can't do no wrong. When I see a black dude with a white woman and Dale isn't with me I feel sad. Oh, well. He can't be with me 24/7. Or can he?

I found myself nursing thoughts of Dale Kensington and I spending the rest of our lives together. Six months after we met, he proposed to me as we dined inside East Side Mario's restaurant, and I happily said yes. I couldn't wait to tell my family and friends. My uncle Omar Hafiz and my aunt Fatoumatta weren't pleased with my decision since Dale Kensington isn't Muslim and the laws of Islam forbid Muslim women from marrying Christian men or Jewish men. I defied my relatives and decided to stick with Dale. Don't like my romantic choices? Kiss my shapely Somali ass. It's my life!

My uncle Omar and my aunt Fatoumatta spat on the ground and told me that I was dead to them. Ha! Like I need them in my life. Yeah, right. I didn't need any black folks in my life, whether family or friends. I loved Dale, and he was my whole world. I didn't need anyone else. My white knight in shining armor would always be there for me. White men don't let black women down. Only black men do. My blue-eyed angel will be my lover and protector until the end of my days. That's why I happily told Dale that I was ready to embrace the Methodist faith, and forever walk away from Islam. All for him. Dale was ecstatic when I delivered the news. Finally, we can be together!

I began going to the local Methodist church with Dale. To my immense surprise, the church wasn't all-white. In fact, thirty to forty percent of the churchgoers came from places like Latin America, the Philippines, Africa and the Caribbean. The Pastor of the Fervent Hope Methodist Church of Ottawa, Bertrand Jacobson, is a fifty-something portly white guy married to a Chinese lady. I saw a lot of white guys with minority women in there and I was happy. I bristled when I saw a couple of black guys with non-black wives. Antoine Desmond, a tall black guy of Jamaican descent is one of the church deacons. He's married to a white lady named Jacqueline Monet and they have three sons together. The other black dude in an interracial relationship at our church, Rashid Johnson, is an African-American transplant from Detroit and he's married to an Asian gal named Annabelle Lee. The couple has two daughters. Oh, well. Can't stop the brothers from dating and marrying out, eh? Whatever. As long as I've got my white knight in shining armor by my side, I fear no evil.

Dale and I decided it was time we moved in together and we got ourselves a nice three-bedroom apartment in Barrhaven. Dale began putting in more hours at work and I understood since rent was expensive and we were also saving up for our upcoming wedding. I make thirty dollars an hour as a CIBC account manager and I work eight-hour shifts, five days a week. That's twelve hundred bucks a week, before taxes. Not bad, eh? I do alright for myself and my boo isn't doing bad either. As a contractor with the City of Ottawa Dale rakes in sixty five grand a year after taxes. I'm proud of my sweetie and I tell him this every day. I appreciate Dale a lot. He's the sun, moon and stars to me. My relatives and I are no longer speaking. The local Somali community shuns me for violating one of Islam's most sacred rules. Yeah, Dale is all I got. I pray I don't lose him.

The day came when our lives changed forever. I came home early one day, thinking that I'd surprise my boo. I entered our apartment and heard voices. Male voices. Hmmm. Maybe Dale's got a friend visiting. I tip-toed my way around the apartment, and made my way to the bedroom. I gently pushed the door, thinking I'd yell surprise, but what I saw caused the words to get caught in my throat. I'll never forget what I saw until the day that I die. I saw Dale, my white knight in shining armor, in the arms of another man. The tall, lanky white dude I made love to last night was on his back, getting fucked in the ass by a big, muscular black guy. Give it to me Steven, Dale puffed as the black guy fucked him. I gasped in shock, and that's when they looked up and saw me. Oh shit, Dale yelped. I ran out of the room, indeed, out of the apartment, like the Devil himself was after me.

I ran and ran until I finally collapsed in a street corner, my eyes filled with tears. To me, it was as if the world had ended. I looked heavenward, wondering what I did to deserve such pain and misery. I gave up my family, my friends and religion for this white man and he cheats on me with another man! I risked my life for him and he did me in like this. Damn, white men ain't shit! Dale's a frigging faggot. He's way too clean and too pretty. I should have known his pale ass was too good to be true. I lay there on the street corner, my body trembling, wracked with sobs. Sister are you alright? came a voice. I looked up and saw a tall black man in a business suit looking at me. Go away, I told him. Lady I just want to help, he replied in an even tone. After a long moment, I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. I hope you'll be alright, he said. I said nothing and dusted myself off. Have a good day, he said, and began walking away.

I stood there for a long moment, and thought about all the things that I've gone through. Forsaking my Islamic faith, my family and my friends, all for the love of a white dude who turned out to crave black dick more than he liked my sweet black pussy. Dale, the guy I considered my white knight in shining armor is a faggot. A fruitcake. A cocksucker. I guess that serves me right. I made a white dude my whole world. It's always a mistake when a woman lets a man become the center of her universe.

I guess I share some of the blame for what happened with Dale. Historically speaking men like him haven't treated women like myself very well. Black women are exotic sexual playthings for them white guys, nothing more. I learned my lesson. No more white dudes. Hell, no more men, period. I'm going to seriously give women a shot. Hold on a minute...before I go any further, I must remember to thank the brother who helped me. I ran after him. Hey, I said. The tall black man turned around. Thank you for helping me, I said, and introduced myself.

Happy to help you sister my name is Raphael, he said. I noticed he had a cute smile, and the RCMP worker's ID hanging on a lanyard around his neck was interesting as well. Dude's probably educated and a man of some means. Hmmm. Maybe I should go back to black men. A handsome, educated black guy like Raphael just might be what I needed. I asked Raphael where he was headed, and he happily told me he was meeting his partner for dinner. Damn, I sure hope he means business partner and not the other thing. I managed to remain smiling and calm when he pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of his white boyfriend and the mixed brats they adopted. Damn, today is just not my day!