Black guys have more easily understood my gripes about my hair or institutional injustice.
But I’ve long known that there is no such thing as a perfect partner. Along the way, I’ve dated white guys who wanted to learn about blackness; white guys who pretended my blackness didn’t exist; a Jewish guy who was well-meaning but politically infuriating; and a Honduran man who promptly ditched me for my best friend.
White guys will never love you like black guys, they would say.
I resented those comments, believing that my love should not be bound to the color of my skin or anyone else’s.
I could love my skin and also love Britney Spears and country music.