I was born and raised in Tanzania, my family has been there for 5 generations, however for them it’s a proud moment that none of them have married the natives. I am rather ashamed of their racist nature. It was normal to segregate between us, for example in our house the servants had their own restroom (they couldn’t use ours) and I never questioned why. In school trips we always had separate rooms Africans in one and Indian in the other, I remember there was one girl who was biracial (Indian and black) who were very few in numbers and she asked us why we segregated, that’s when a light bulb went on inside me and snapped me out of what I was unconsciously doing and following. Later in my third year of high school I had a huge crush on my classmate (who so happened to be black), Ntale was from U.S. (not sure what state) but we used to talk about everything under the sun, he was my best friend and I fell in love with him, I never told him as I didn’t have the courage to do so. It was close to our final year in school, when his mom passed, our whole class went to his house, and that was the first time I got to hug him and I felt like never letting go. I was naïve and told my mom about what happened and she forbade me to ever see him and threatened me to never go to school again. I look back on what could have been a great relationship, (hopefully) but never got the chance to explore with him. I still feel sad that I listened to my family and did not pursue him. Now that I am in California, and at 35 (unmarried still) I have dated many different races, but never had a chance to date a black man as I never got approached by one nor have I actively pursued any, hopefully when covid has reduced and we get to be in bars again maybe I can meet someone but I am open to whomever walks in my life whether they are black, brown, white or anything in between. Although I did finally got to tell Ntale that I liked him, and the reasons why we weren’t together. I really regret not pursuing him. He was my best friend (to some degree he still is), we used to talk about everything and anything, I learned that he liked me too, and it hurts the most. Why did his race matter? I should have been braver and fought for us. Now there’s a continent, and a couple of oceans separating us. Not to mention the circumstances are different, I feel exhausted even thinking about how we could make it work. I question my worth sometimes then I remember how powerful women are, so who is more fragile me or you? Regarding fragility Ruth Bader Ginsberg said it best, fragile like a flower or fragile like a bomb? Men’s approval have never mattered, however women still compare themselves, some of us even beat each other down instead of lifting each other up. I never take life seriously I make myself happy by noticing funny things such as, when I see men with these dad sneakers it makes me laugh. Although Some stupid things that I laughed about make me like a bad person for laughing about them. Don’t even get me started on romance movies, that they set unrealistic expectations of love and who we should be. Some days I’m happy to be child free and single while other days it rather lonesome. We should all support each other’s journey no matter what stage we are in, for what’s happening to me could happen to you. Perhaps it’s naive of me to try my best to make this world a better place.
