Back when I was a high school English teacher, I had a white female colleague (“Katie”) who not only dated black men but was also one of those white women who exclusively date black men and let everyone know that they only date black men whatever chance they get.
“Hey, were you able to download the newest version of GradeQuick?”
“Brothas just have so much swag.”
“I was on a date with Tyrone last night, and we went to Dave & Buster’s. Have you ever had their hot wings?”
Katie was one of a group of youngish teachers who all worked at the high school. There were eight or nine of us total, and we’d hang out in the teachers’ lounge, go out to eat with one another during the hourlong lunches we’d get during in-service days, and just generally use each other as sounding boards to vent about the rest of the school.
Once, while we were all at Red’s, the topic of conversation was interracial dating. Naturally, Katie was in her element: “Hakeem took me to this house party his frat brother threw last weekend. And, I don’t know, I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me the entire time. I know they were thinking I’d stolen one of their men or something. I just never felt comfortable.”