After graduating, I moved to New York, and though here I was able to find queer friends who are also people of color, we are still always in the minority at gay bars and clubs.A friend of mine, who is Latino, once asked why I didn't approach Black men in bars.While I may flirt or develop friendships with other Black gay men, I’ve never seriously pursued a relationship with one.When I’m on Tinder, the men I’m more likely to swipe right are usually athletic white men between 21 and 30.He also seems to come from a good, solid family, whereas I keep my distance from mine, as there's some craziness and substance issues running through it.
Even in person, when I’m trying to muster up the courage to talk to a cute guy, I first wonder if he’s "into black guys." I hate myself for even having to contemplate these things, and I’m now left asking myself: And the more I think about it, the more complicated the answer seems. The only gay people I saw in the media were white, and the few Black queer celebrities that I knew of, like Wanda Sykes and Michael Sam, were in interracial relationships.
If he really made the comment about the other women he dated, i would inquire about his dating history (just out of curiosity ...
shows a bit lack of tact) PS: Is that Mae West in your avatar ? (don't answer if you'd rather not) So, I have a date this weekend with a guy who seems to be doing very well for himself.
My childhood in the Black church led me to believe that Black people were inherently homophobic — a myth — and that the only Black men who were gay were on the down low or infected with HIV — also a myth.
Within my own family, I had two gay uncles who died of AIDS-related illnesses before I was 10.