Friday, June 27, 2008
I tell ya'll what. Being in Denver sure will make you love a place like the A.
Yeah, I complain about the influx of gay men and pseudo gay, tight shirt and pants wearing, electronica listening dudes. But damn. When you actually experience a real drought, it makes you appreciate the little bit of moisture you got at the crib.
I've been in Denver for the past three weeks, dealing with some shit, visiting the fam (including my niece who is the cutest thing going right now)-- you know, enjoying life outside of the entertainment industry and lame ass blog world.
Being with my family was wonderful, but when I went anywhere else in the city, I felt totally invisible. What I mean is... black men in Denver ARE NOT CHECKING for my black ass. Or any other black woman's ass for that matter.
Dude, I thought I was over my infuriation with black men who date white women. Seriously. When I saw brothers with white girls, I was cool. They didn't even warrant a second glance. They didn't make my blood boil or make me think they were too much of a punk to handle a black woman. All of those feelings had died. Or, so I thought.
Being in Denver took me back like 10 years, dude. The brothers out there are absolutely OPPOSED to brown skinned-ed women. Not once did a dude do a second glance, send me an acknowledging nod, smile my way... man. I may as well have not even existed. (Okay, one dude did say what's up "beautiful" but he was clearly from the Civil Rights generation so it don't count).
I'm not being on no eogtististical, insecure shit, but damn, man. Really? I thought black chicks were popular again. I mean, Beyonce, Rhianna... even the Delilah chick the Plain White Tees sang about gets love. (She ain't black, but she's at least ethnic). What's up in the Mile High?
And it's not like the white women that the black dudes be with are Angelina Jolie or Charlize Theron. Hell, they ain't even Jennifer Aniston. They be on some like, super scraggly shit, dude.
Slowly but surely, I felt all of my old feelings of resentment bubbling to the surface. I heard myself start mumbling things like "sellout," "toms"... ya know, the old rude names I used to say. I think it's because in Atlanta (and other cities), when you see a black dude with a non-black chick, it's like, scattered here and there. It allows me to believe that the two met, fell in love, and that the shit is somehow genuine. In Denver, where EVERY black dude avoids black chicks like the plague, it seems deliberate. Intentional. Offensive. Backwards as hell.
Anyways, I had to get that off of my chest. I'm feeling much better now that I'm back in Atlanta. I'm back to being visible again. I even smiled and giggled at the crackhead who called me "beautiful" before promptly asking me for two dollars. Ain't nothin' like being acknowledged.