Recently my girlfriend (a highly intelligent, physically beautiful, internationally respected, well educated, spotlessly moral lady) asked me (a village-raised, not utterly-amazing looking, criminally experienced, wandering high-school dropout) what my thoughts were about an article in The Elephant discussing why many Africans seem to prefer or at least desire white men more than black ones.
She wasn’t the first person to ever ask me about that.
She wasn’t the second or third either. Hell, it’s been causing me doubts and stress for my entire adult life. I’ll get back to that article I mentioned. But first, maybe my thoughts’ll have more weight and legitimacy with some real life context rather than being only theoretical and speculative.
I have in my measly three decades of life been in a committed romantic relationship with women from Mexico, India, The Philippines, and Kenya. Obviously three of those fell apart, but they were earnest and honest at the time. While diverse in geographical origin, these ladies were not diverse at all in quality. I won’t speak positively or negatively here about their personalities or ethical goodness, but objectively speaking they were the sort of woman men traditionally claim they want.
The Indian had light-brown skin, pure black hair, and staggeringly bright green eyes. This is an extremely rare genetic combination within India which all by itself garnered a lot of attention from both local and foreign men. She had a Master’s Degree in literature, was the daughter of a high-ranking law enforcement official, had won numerous awards for poetry or performances in plays, and operated her own highly profitable tutoring business that was making tangible, formal progress towards being turned into a registered professional school. She was in her early twenties, had no children, and had never been married.
This woman had options. Literally hundreds of millions of options. And she picked me.
Why?
The Mexican was one semester away from completing her Master’s Degree in teaching at a large, respectable university in Texas. She was the elected president of the UNICEF chapter in said university, which was by no means some little glee club style organization. We first met face to face after she was requested to attend a national UNICEF leadership gathering in New York City. She flew to Costa Rica shortly afterwards to help organize a humanitarian effort there. She paid for these tickets by herself, with money from the job she kept on top of all those other things.
Did I mention she was curvy in the good way and spoke three languages fluently? This woman had options, and she picked me.
Why?
The Filipina was 4’10” and drop-dead gorgeous. Professional photographers and aspiring jewelry designers routinely begged her to model for them. Which she did, for money. She was a naturally talented, award winning dancer. So much so that she was elected leader of her university’s competitive dance group even though the youngest member. She attended said highly prestigious university on a full academic scholarship where she earned a Master’s Degree in business administration six months ahead of schedule. Her English was so impeccable and accent-free that fellow Filipino’s often assumed she was born in California and just visiting.
She had a full time job teaching at an expensive private school, with full financial independence by age 20 (For those who might not have context this is very rare for young women in that country). She didn’t live with either of her parents, which again is something extremely rare for Filipina women her age. It is barely exaggeration or hyperbole to say this woman could have brought home any man for a hundred kilometers in any direction without effort. Chinese, Filipino, American, married, single, rich, poor, devoutly Catholic, anyone she wanted.
And she was with me for five years.
Why?
Most recently, the Kenyan. Who doesn’t like me talking about my exes so hopefully she never reads this... This woman is an emerald, as hinted at in the opening sentence. A PhD scholar, with all the fancy paperwork to prove it. She’s been personally invited to numerous academic or technology conferences all over the world. Both Western and African governments offer her research and development grants and awards for her work combining virtual reality, artificial intelligence, and East African cultural heritage. There is a waiting list for her attention regarding E-Learning material and course development. She has two separate registered companies.
Studies and schools aside, she’s also a professional children’s book illustrator and cartoon animator. The Pope has held one of her books in his hands. She speaks three languages fluently and cheerfully stumbles along in several others. She is sincere in her religious faith, which she proved was not just lip service by refusing to have sex before getting married. By no means unfriendly to the thought though, she eagerly craves children of her own and loves her family.
And that’s just her brain. She’s also very pretty! She doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, eats healthy, is very clean, and assures me that this lotion is important so she doesn’t look ashy, though I remain sceptical that it's actually necessary. This woman is a catch, no two ways about it. She’s going places in life and she wants me to go with her.
And sometimes, when I see articles like that, I sit and wonder... why me?
Look, don’t get me wrong. I’m absolutely not some pathetic loser that women way out of my league are involved with because of pity or because I temporarily trick them into thinking that I’m something I’m not. I have a lot of good qualities, and while I sometimes make mistakes I treat my paramours with dignity and respect. Thing is, my best qualities are traits you probably would never know about until after you spend a lot of time with me.
I'm highly skilled at "computer stuff", actively working on both professional heritage projects and frivolous, but paid, content. I own an impressive library, most of which I have in fact read and would be happy to discuss with you. I've successfully conceived, designed, marketed, and sold my own original board game from scratch completely by myself. I’m very good with both animals and children. I’m a skilled swordsman. My father is rich (though I personally am decidedly not). If we were hiking deep in the mountains and you got mauled by a bear, I could probably save you. Not to boast, but I'm an excellent cook. Whatever one my think about my personality or style, objectively speaking I am healthy, stable, secure, and overall a respectable choice for a "mate".
None these things are relevant or known at the beginning of the relationship. If you attempted to cyberstalk me, it wouldn't work. These things I am listing about myself could take weeks or months or even years for a brand new romantic partner to discover. You can’t see my nice abs during our coffee date. You are not going to peruse through the dozens of handmade artworks on my walls and tables because I don't talk about them unless you are already in my house. It might come as a surprise that I’ve saved the lives of many sick or wounded stray kittens because I don’t take photos or videos of myself doing so. Even if I did I don’t post such things to Twitter or Facebook.
But there is one thing about me that you’ll know from the moment you meet me, probably before you even know my name.
I’m white.
So yeah, the notion that non-white women have been subconsciously indoctrinated from a young age to prefer me over men of their own ethnicity, and that this might have played a role in their initial choice to start a relationship with me is deeply troubling. Nobody's saying that was the only reason. Of course not. But it’s a persuasive and at times very well presented argument, and the question is hard to answer definitively.
Some of it is surely just situational. When I lived in the Philippines, especially after my ex and I separated, I got a lot of attention. A lot, much of which was unwanted. Yes, if I walked into a bar all the women stared at me. They all wanted to know if I was single. But so did everyone else! I was the only white person in my barangay. Old people, children, machismo-dripping men, birds, traffic cameras, packs of flea infested street mongrels, they all stared at me too. Literally the first thing my elderly landlord asked me after shaking my hand our first non-texting conversation was if I had a girlfriend. He asked me about my relationship status before he asked me if I had a job.
I was a novelty, a mystery. Depending on who you asked I was either frighteningly intimidating or an unwanted tourist. Most people casually assumed I was vastly wealthier than I really was. If they found out I was single they immediately asked why I was even there. It’s important to note for those who have never visited this country that white guys over the age of forty-five getting married to significantly younger Filipina women is a well known and typically quite disliked trend in that nation.
I wasn’t like those men. I didn’t have grey hair. I wasn't fat. I lived far away from the resorts or gated communities and rode public transportation rather than driving an SUV with deeply tinted windows. When I spoke, I said “mangandang umaga” rather than “hey you speak any English?” It didn’t go unnoticed that I was personal friends with the local police, and hung out with them all the time even when on duty. People talked about me when I wasn’t around. The women all wanted a piece of me.
Why? Because I was white? Was that really the reason?
As I read articles discussing the idea of white allure over non-white, they seem to be stating that non-white women are routinely racist against their own kind. That article in The Elephant was just an example. A quick Google search could bring you dozens more.
They push the notion that non-white cultures denigrate themselves. That their own media and social commentary focus on their problems and flaws much more often and more intensely than their good qualities. That daily issues with bribery, chauvinism, thievery, terrorism, etc. has poisoned the minds of the average woman against the local men. They might accept a man of the same race sure, they might put up with those problems, but deep down they would rather be with a white man if they had the choice.
I don’t think that’s true. At least in my experience, what makes me qualified to say one way or the other about women in Ghana or Uzbekistan? I’ve never personally been to Ecuador, so I suppose I don’t truly know what the women there are like. I've been to the Philippines though, so let's talk about them.
Most Filipinos I met were openly and explicitly racist. They held contempt, loathing, or both towards Chinese, Koreans, any Muslims, and all black people in general except Obama. The only reason they were not racist towards Latinos was because it is difficult to tell a Mexican soap-opera apart from a Filipino one. They were not racist against themselves though, at least no more than any group or culture always is a little self-aware.
I remember once I was waiting in line, like always in that nation, at the local Bureau of Immigration office. All I needed was to get a sticker on my passport, which I already had done three times before and takes five minutes at most. Naturally that meant I was lower priority than the Bangladeshi guy who’s Alien Registration ID was “stolen” and the half-dozen Korean college students there to complain about who knows what this time.
A place like the Baguio Bureau of Immigration office has three, maybe four times as many female employees than male. They do most of the work while the older men play darts and sign everything. As I lounged on the bench completely bored I overheard two of the young female staff whisper chatting about me. All the Filipinos assumed I spoke only English and, since they believed I didn’t understand any of it, they were not remotely shy about openly discussing me in Tagalog or Illocano.
I quote:
“He’s handsome. Isn’t he handsome?”
“Yeah, I suppose. He’s really tall.”
“I bet his dick’s a lot bigger than your boyfriend’s.”
“Shut up!” accompanied by one of those scandalized giggles and a quick hand flop.
“You should find out.”
This elicited a pen cap thrown at her and a mock-offended huffing.
“You go find out, if you want to know so bad. Then show me a picture.”
“Nah...”
They both chuckled then moved on to some soap-opera starlet who’s nude photos had recently been leaked to the public. Neither of them ever found out, by the way, nor ever spoke directly to me aside from brief work-related questions in English. They thought I was interesting, but not thaaaaaaaat interesting. Interesting enough to say something, maybe, but not interesting enough to do anything.
So sure, the local ladies would sarcastically mock Filipino men all the time. They said Filipino men drink too much gin. They all had big bellies after age thirty-five. They were incessantly horny but never satisfying in bed. These were common jokes as much as they were legitimate criticism. If your man was lazy or unfaithful or sexist, it wasn’t automatically a deal-breaker. Men are always like that aren’t they?
Filipina women are remarkably blase about infidelity. They downright assume it’s going to happen, and most of the time they hiss and fume for a couple months then forgive the man and let him back inside. While the hundreds of years under harsh Spanish enforced Catholicism has left it’s mark on their outward attitudes, internally they don’t feel particularly guilty about having an affair and their families most certainly do not shun or cast out unfaithful wives, sisters, daughters, or mothers.
More than one married woman playfully flirted with or made innuendos towards me. But that doesn’t mean they secretly wanted to leave their husbands for a white man. Maybe a small few did, like those in truly abusive relationships with seriously bad men. But those are edge cases, outliers. Most of the Filipina women were content enough with a Filipino man. Their overtures towards me were a vaguely amusing little game more than any legitimate effort or plan.
I’ve seen the data collected from apps like Tinder or localized equivalents that empirically shows white men get more favorable and positive responses or attention than non-white. I can personally confirm this to be true. But does that happen because the local women dislike local men and secretly pine for a white knight?
I don’t think so. I think women in impoverished or otherwise troubled countries strongly desire stability, security, escape from what they feel helpless about, and excitement amidst lives of struggle and unhappiness. White men are often a metaphorical symbol for those concepts in the eyes of many non-white people. Not everyone, not everywhere. But it is a trend, that much I completely agree with. It is also a false narrative, white men absolutely do not inherently equate to Good Things™.
I grew up in Orleans County, New York. You might hear New York and think Manhattan, The Statue of Liberty, or lately maybe Donald Trump. Trust me, it’s not like that in Orleans County. It’s poor. It’s dying. It’s ugly. The tallest building is a grain silo. There is a lot of crime. My beloved mother lives a couple kilometers down the road from the spot where two men were violently murdered a couple years ago. A white man shot them, it was drug related. She works a couple hundred meters from the spot where a woman was beaten to death by her boyfriend a few years ago. He was white.
My childhood is filled with uncomfortably high numbers of weakly educated, deeply racist, physically and mentally unhealthy white people. Hollywood and Nashville call these people rednecks. Less fancy things call them trailer trash.
I don’t think those African or Asian woman would be lining up to date these men. That image, that symbol of success and prosperity that foreigners attach to Americans and non-whites attach to whites overall is nothing but ignorance and stereotyping. Personally, I blame the long term side effects of past colonization mixed with modern Westernization through our mass media dominance. But I digress.
I’m here to talk about interracial romance, so I won’t get way off topic. Suffice it to say that there is not a single place on this planet that has never been conquered or dominated by Europeans and the United States at least once. Even places like Japan which were not “colonized” in the traditional sense were crushed by military force then occupied and administrated directly by Americans for several years. Hell, the white people even put flags on the moon.
The association of power with white people, false and oversimplified as it may be, has not faded away. But as time goes on, it’s less and less about ethnicity and more about wealth or perceived freedom. The women, wherever they may be from, that are attracted most to a man because of what he is and what he can gain them would be equally happy with Sancho Pedro or Jiang Xiaobai or Robert Smith. The women who care most about who her lover is don’t really care what color his skin is.
Life is messy and complicated. These two types of women are not so clear cut and binary in reality as in an editorial or a survey question. But if there is one thing I can universally criticize about these articles or “research” efforts, and all the people who trumpet this issue non-professionally, it’s that they oversimplify cause/effect and ignore whatever is inconvenient towards making their point. And they are often if not usually quite biased.
For example, the author of the article in The Elephant that sparked my girlfriend asking me my thoughts. The first half of the article was relatively neutral and spoke mostly about his personal experiences. Particularly noticeable was the part where he talks about the horrible bigot from Spain that changed his life. The second half however, had far too many sweeping declarations. It insinuated some rather insulting things about white people in general and specifically expats in Kenya.
I don’t appreciate the direct assertation that we are all brainwashed into a white savior narrative. For one, Africa is a continent not a country. In Kenya alone, there are relatively sparse but not insignificant numbers of women born here to Indian or British genetic lineages. Say what you will about the reasons but the foreign mzungus tend to intermingle with the local ones. The Kenyan author railing against the white man's burden is surely aware of these basic facts. So which white person is saving which, precisely?
More importantly, I don’t think it’s fair to say we are attracted to African women because they, “have become something to acquire and possess. We are shiny new toys sold under the banner of exotic, expressive and smouldering sensuality.”
Yes, I viewed my exes and current girlfriend as quite exotic compared to my very gloomy whitewashed hometown. But none of them were ever toys or trophy wives. They were never just flings, just cheap fun that I pursued for bragging rights or taboo eroticism. To imply as such insults not only me but worse demeans them. It deminishes them, deprives them of agency.
I was deeply grieved when those relationships ended. Call me a man-whore if you think I’ve been with too many different women in my life. Call me a fool if you think I have bad taste. Call me a failure if you think I am because none of my relationships lasted for ten years. But don’t ever tell me that I didn’t care about them as equals and as human beings.
Or this part here: “The white man is no better placed to explain why he is suddenly looking to Africa and peoples of colour as possible romantic liaisons other than the fact that it (sic) being advertised as not only permissible but also highly encouraged in order to be a part of globalisation (sic).” That’s... rather racist? I’m not suddenly looking to people of color as possible romantic liaisons.
They were ALWAYS possible romantic liaisons. Little going-through-puberty thirteen, fourteen year old me didn’t like skimming through the National Geographic magazines that came in the mail because of social justice crusades to empower the oppressed and disenfranchised. I did it because there was half naked women! I liked the bra and swimsuit sections of the annual JCPenny's catalogue too, was that because I was outraged at Western fashion eclipsing native garb all over the world both casually and in government or weddings?
On November 22, 1968 a white man named Kirk kissed a black woman named Uhura on TV. It was not the first time this had ever happened, but for millions of people it was the first time they saw it with their own eyes.
Shortly after, the studio received a letter from a white Southerner who wrote: "I am totally opposed to the mixing of the races. However, any time a red-blooded American boy like Captain Kirk gets a beautiful dame in his arms that looks like Uhura, he ain't gonna fight it." This was a flagrantly racist man more than fifty years ago in a notoriously racist part of the world, and even he was okay with it.
I quit my good-paying job, sold my car, left my nice apartment, gave up my hobbies and friends, risked the lives of my beloved cats, and put my future on the line when I moved to Kenya. Why did I do it? Well, it was not because I intended to “arrive bright-eyed and bushy-tailed hoping to embark on their own African romances, and find their own African princes and princesses to ride into the sunset with.” I was already in a romance before moving here, it doesn't matter if she is a princess or a paupress, and it doesn’t matter if she is African or Alabamian. I'm going to go wherever she wants to go, simple as that. She came to the United States earlier, then I went to Kenya, perhaps someday we’ll both go to Mars.
A problem I ran into many times, especially while dating the Indian lady, was resentment by non-whites that “their” women were dating white men. This is particularly virulent in Muslim nations and India, but also present to some degree or another everywhere else. Just recently my lady and I were walking home from a market, when a man spoke to her, completely without prompting, saying "You know, there are black men too!"
For all he knew we were step siblings, or platonic friends. But his assumptions were not unusual or unexpected here, nor was his public haranguing. Passive aggressive anger, subtle but not accidental insinuations that such women are “traitors”, decrying the demonizing of themselves and attacking the motives or morals of the “seducing outsiders”. None of these are uncommon when a white man and non-white woman are discussed or seen together.
I’ve been quoting from a specific article in The Elephant. It says things like a Western white man is “using his black partner as proof of evolution in a culture in decline.” Or that Africa “is an intellectual powerhouse more connected with the present and the future, while the west stagnates and ossifies.” But please, read as many articles as you’d like. I can think of a dozen more just off the top of my head and Google could bring you hundreds of others. There is a pattern. There is a consistent theme.
Do these woman want to be with white men more than people of their own ethnicity, or do they just not want to be with you?
In the 2019 Academy Awards, the winner of Best Picture was about racism in the American South during the Jim Crow days. The second and third place nominees? A movie about the KKK and superhero flick "Black Panther". The 2013 winner was “12 Years a Slave”, about a righteous black man who was... well, take a guess. 2018’s winner was about a white woman falling in love with a blue fish-man. The year before that the Best Picture was about a gay black man. I can only wonder if the author of the article written for The Elephant, which talks about his negative experiences as a gay black man, has watched it.
Don’t tell me that non-white men are systemically portrayed as unlikable and undesirable in media. These are not obscure cherry-picked examples dug up to prove a point, they are widely hailed prominent award winners. They are popular. If you are under the age of seventy you don't live, and never have lived, oppressed by the Hays Code. And it's not like it's a bleeding edge phenomenon, take a good look at the movies released over the last decade. Have you seen the film "Crazy Rich Asians", paid for and released by a bunch of old white men at Warner Bros? He’s a complete dreamboat. How much more attractive do you want non-white men to be presented as in movies produced by white people?
Women like men who smell nice. Women like men who do the dishes without being coerced or pestered to. Women like men with reliable incomes. Some woman just want a sexy fling, and with that goal in mind pick whomever is the most thrilling option available to them at the moment.
I can’t, I won’t, say that no person is affected without being aware of it by their environment. What we read, what we listen to, the people around us, of course they shape who we are. Especially so, but not exclusively so, when we are children and teenagers. But did my environment and its inhabitants make me less attracted to non-white women than I am to white women?
The population of my hometown was 98% or so white. Another 1.9% were specifically Mexican illegal immigrant men. My grandfather is a vilely racist man. I’m not proud to admit that, but he always has been and always will be. The only times I saw non-fictional black people were news reports about criminals in the city of Rochester and every Sunday when about a million or so extremely well dressed black folk entered or left a tiny Baptist church in the middle of nowhere (read: down the road from my house). A building that was utterly empty at all other times. The Asians were... in video games? Old kung-fu movies with the funny sounds? Do those actually have any women in them?
My youth told me that Hispanic women were all slutly voiced, that is, sultry voiced sluts. Muslims were abused slaves that were too afraid to date you. Indians only had arranged marriages so that was unlikely. East Asians had the personalities of six year old little girls while also preferring octopuses to men. Black women were either conniving ho’s or half-starved illiterate hut dwellers.
All that conditioning. All that media soaking into my spongy developing brain. All those cliches and stereotypes and “subliminal messaging maaaan” didn’t stop me from strongly desiring non-white women, neither more nor less than white women. Trust me, I like white women. Famous examples shall not be named here but I used to often fantasize about a threesome in zero gravity with a certain queen from a galaxy far far away and her certain queenly body double.
The first girl I ever kissed was white. She lived in the next town over on a dirt road that was only wide enough for one car and one truck (but definitely not two trucks) going opposite directions, across the big ditch from an Amish field. I was seventeen and had sex for the first time with this same girl a while later. But she was not the first person to ever ask me out. Ohhhhh no no no, that was a young lady whose full name I just can't seem to remember, but I recall started with an “A”. I’ll never forget her though.
I was fifteen, just turned sixteen at most. I came across two girls standing at my locker whispering to each other, who fled when they saw me approaching. I found a note in there from A saying that my hair reminded her of someone in her favorite band and asking if I’d like to be her boyfriend. To be honest I was flabbergasted, and after mulling on it for the rest of the day turned her down.
I thought, that was a ridiculous reason to like someone! We were almost complete strangers anyways. She was probably two years younger than me, in a lower grade than I or my younger brother. What sort of dates could a completely broke sixteen year old and an equally broke little fourteen year old go on? My parents were going through an ugly divorce at the time and I wasn’t in the mood for romance with anyone to begin with. Not going to lie though, before I declined I was watching her try her hardest yet hopelessly fail to do a basketball lay-up from the bleachers during one of our schools' new combined grades Fitness Class "reviews".
Damn if she didn’t have a really cute butt.
She was black.
Unusually dark black actually, unlike most so called "Black" Americans. Her skin was like polished onyx. One might wonder if a Senegalese and a South Sudanese had a baby; a baby which managed somehow to be even darker than either parent, to the point of prompting gossip about where they adopted her from. Beyoncé looked like a snowman next to this girl.
You might think I’m just making this all up, that such a girl would be so weirdly, suspiciously unlikely in the rural Republican™ farmlands I described before. But I swear upon my soul, that story is completely factual truth.
Even in my teens, let along adulthood, those years of negativity regarding non-white women didn’t control me. I’m not denying that I was bombarded with such information both directly and indirectly at the time. But her being black was not the reason I turned her down. Just the opposite really, she was easily and by far the darkest skinned person I had ever met face to face in my life.
I sat there, contemplating her request with as much depth as a stupid, foolish sixteen-year old can muster. I seriously considered accepting her request, in defiance of all the rational reasons to decline, just because I wanted to know what her skin felt like. Smelled like. Tasted like. (Spoiler Alert: I found out years later it's exactly the same.)
If that sounds a bit like fetishization, well, in a way it was.
You see, there is a real truth to the idea that overtly different people, be that physical or cultural, have a intrinsic attractiveness in the eyes of any human. The lure of the unknown, even if that feeling is wildly exaggerated by ignorance or immaturity, is a siren call that tugs at our subconscious'. The spice of love-life, so to speak. My beloved mother, who is pale as a piece of paper, has always had a big crush on Antonio Banderrrrras. She married first one than a second white American, but when Antonio dances in "Evita" and says something in Spanish, you know, with the Rrrr's, her heart flutters.
I think most people can relate to a similar cross cultural/ethnic/racial attraction. It's there, and it's not a bad thing. For me, I was not as wise nor experienced on that day over ten years ago. But even now, in my heart of hearts, can I with complete confidence say that I never revel in my relationships with non-white women solely on principle?
It crossed my mind, sitting on those uncomfortable old bleachers, that my classmates would be in an uproar should I date this girl. I smirked at the imagined expression on my racist grandfather's face, when I sat down at the table for Thanksgiving dinner with my obsidian-hued lover. I thought about it with mischievous glee. Yet I admit now that a thought like that, while certainly not malicious, was objectifying this woman. I considered her age, and thought with displeasure that I would have to be with her for at least three full years before having sex wasn't an outright criminal felony. Does being a horny teenager excuse away sexual objectification?
But my question to myself, and any other who might have the inclination to consider, is this: Do instincts or subconscious thoughts implanted by others have more power, more authority, than your own choices?
I’m sure some people are more strongly affected by such things than I was. I’m not trying to imply that my personality and mindset are representative of all people alive today of all ages and genders and origins and life histories. Actually I freely admit that I was influenced regarding other topics and ideas such as gay people or drug users, effects which persist in the back of my mind to this day.
However, if my desire for a lover of specific ethnicity is neither stronger nor weaker than my desire for any other ethnicity, what makes people assume differently for hundreds of millions of non-white women and their thoughts towards men? Especially today's teenagers and twenty-somethings, who started thinking about, you know, "boys" (or maybe girls?) after growing up in a time when the claims made in that article and others like it are even shakier. Why are those women so drastically different? When the punditry is stripped away women, all the billions of them white or non-white, have control over their own romantic priorities. I believe that ethnicity is rarely at the top of the list.
Any subconscious amount of influence their society or upbringing had on their preferences is overvalued and ephemeral. But were it to be true, if that really is the main catalyst and motivation of many women, then what of it? That isn't an inherently bad thing. It's a challenge, an opportunity to rise to those high expectations, to be the passionate and honorable lover they hope for. Whatever it may be, it's certainly not any man's decision to make or judge.
That my skin color makes me innately more desirable or attractive isn't true about those unknowable strangers. It wasn't true regarding any of the women in my life. It wasn't white-privilege. It wasn't Western imperialism. It wasn't racism. It wasn't the media, fictional or otherwise. It wasn't random luck.
They wanted to be with me because they believed I was a good man.
However, if my desire for a lover of specific ethnicity is neither stronger nor weaker than my desire for any other ethnicity, what makes people assume differently for hundreds of millions of non-white women and their thoughts towards men? Especially today's teenagers and twenty-somethings, who started thinking about, you know, "boys" (or maybe girls?) after growing up in a time when the claims made in that article and others like it are even shakier. Why are those women so drastically different? When the punditry is stripped away women, all the billions of them white or non-white, have control over their own romantic priorities. I believe that ethnicity is rarely at the top of the list.
Any subconscious amount of influence their society or upbringing had on their preferences is overvalued and ephemeral. But were it to be true, if that really is the main catalyst and motivation of many women, then what of it? That isn't an inherently bad thing. It's a challenge, an opportunity to rise to those high expectations, to be the passionate and honorable lover they hope for. Whatever it may be, it's certainly not any man's decision to make or judge.
That my skin color makes me innately more desirable or attractive isn't true about those unknowable strangers. It wasn't true regarding any of the women in my life. It wasn't white-privilege. It wasn't Western imperialism. It wasn't racism. It wasn't the media, fictional or otherwise. It wasn't random luck.
They wanted to be with me because they believed I was a good man.
I can only hope that any daughters of mine, if they even count as non-white in the future, prove those articles wrong.