My wife is beautiful. Not in the sense of American standards of beauty, rail thin models with fake tits and botox; she has the essence of true beauty. She has a powerful spirit. She’s smart and funny and I can talk with her for hours. She’s a big woman. Not fat, at least not to me, I suppose that’s in the eye of the beholder. She has gorgeous curves, deep, chocolate colored eyes, and the most glorious smile I’ve ever seen. My wife is a big, beautiful, black woman.
The thing is, I can’t help thinking about the standards of what “beauty” is. Ask five people and you’ll probably get five different answers. Thinking about this, I’ve come to realize that one’s idea of beauty usually stems from one’s upbringing, and what you are exposed to throughout your life.
To me, it was never strange to date outside my race. I grew up in a bad neighborhood, so my mom sent me to a boarding school to get me off the streets. This school had a very mixed population, it was a free school for under priviledged children, kids from single parent and poor homes. Hell, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me it was mixed, there are poor folks of every color and I was one of them.
In any case, the school was very mixed, but primarily Black, then White, Hispanic, Asian etc. Maybe 70% of the school was black, primarily because of it’s location near many predominantly black neighborhoods. At an early age I was exposed to people of many races, so it was never really strange. By comparison, I went to college at a very segregated, primarily white school and it felt like a culture shock.
As I was saying, it never occurred to me to only date white women. Hell I only got out of school on weekends, so if I only dated white girls it’d be on the weekends, or my pick of the two white girls in my class who probably weren’t interested anyway. My first serious relationship was with a black woman. I’ve dated other women as well since then, but in the end I find black women the most attractive women hands down, maybe followed by asian women.
To me, dark skin is healthy skin. When I see a woman with pale, white skin, I see a woman who is, in my eyes, unhealthy. Also, I like bigger women, curvy women. Unfortunately, if you were to place a curvaceous black woman next to a white woman with a similar build, the black woman would be appealing to me, while the white woman would look like varicose veins, saggy tits, a big gut, and cellulite. Black women are just built bigger, they were made to have curves. And I like a soft, curvy woman.
For some reason, again, this is just my personal preference, I don’t like pink nipples. Okay, that’s not true, I love all breasts, but I’m not really aroused by pink nipples the ways I am seeing some dark breasts with nice brown nipples. Also, tying back to the generally larger build of black women, one out of ten thousand white women may have a nice round ass like a black woman. I don’t know what is in these genes, but I like what’s in those jeans.
I like black hair, especially natural hair. My wife has a beautiful, puffy afro, her hair is natural and soft and she’s not ashamed of it. I think it is beautiful. I like running my hands in it, I like the way it smells and feels. I love black cooking. I would eat soul food all day long and keep eating it as I die of a heart coronary. I know it’s bad for me, I just don’t care. Just shut up and pass me those fucking collard greens and sweet potatoes.
Finally, I like black women’s attitudes. I’m generalizing a bit, but in my experience, white women talk, black women do. Too often I hear about white women in bad relationship, I had a lot of female friends in college who would bitch about boyfriends treating them badly and generally abusing them. I rarely hear about black women putting up with this. Hell, there’s ben a few times when my wife and I have gotten into big spats and she’s threatened to leave or told me to go back to my mother’s. Granted, while this wasn’t an appealing option, I like the fact that she speaks her mind. She’s straight forward and doesn’t play games or deal in riddles. If she has a problem with me, she tells me, and I fix it or we compromise. As I’ve said before, I value honesty over nicety. Honesty makes a relationship work, niceness just prolongs the inevitable breakup.
These are a few of the reasons I married a black woman. See, I’ve never viewed my wife as black so much as I just saw her as a woman, a wonderful, strong, and opinionated woman. I don’t want a fucking trophy for a wife, I prefer real women, thank you very much. I married a woman who listens to me, and who I listen to in return. She’s a woman who is willing to compromise and work to make our relationship and our bond a strong and unbreakable one.
The fact that she’s black is a non-issue, at least to us. She’s black, I’m white, and the only people who care about that are the ones who sneer at us in public. Fuck them, if they don’t like it they can go somewhere else. They’re not in the relationship, I am. The most important thing for me is that she’s a woman who loves me and who I love in return.