Why A Black Woman Is Afraid of White Men.

He glares at me with his intensely, indescribable eyes. It feels like they’re looking right through me. His broad shoulders are squared off as he faces me. I stare up into his round, crystal eyes. He towers over me. I flinch as he moves his strong arms.

“Jeanette, you’ve got to do better. You’re a great intern, but lately you’ve been off your game.” He says to me. His eyes are intense and his arms are crossed in front of him. His sleeves are rolled up and unbuttoned at the cuff. I can see the blond hairs on his arm. White men are so hairy, such a masculine trait.

“I know Mr. Rob, I’ll do better. I’m sorry, I’ve been dealing with some stuff. With school and everything.”

Mr. Rob was her supervisor. He was only 34 and he was already so accomplished. As a corporate finance manager, he was well on his way. Jeanette always had a thing for men who were intelligent and handsome.

“You know you don’t have to call me Mr. Rob, it makes me feel old.” He said

Rob went back to his office and Jeanette turned and walked away.

Rob was handsome. She loved being around him. On the rare occasion that the company had a get together, she loved being able to see Rob outside of work. She loved the way he could be laid back and relaxed when he wanted and hard and cut throat the next.

His favorite drink was scotch and soda. Jeanette always wondered how he could drink and still stay relatively sober. Jeanette could only manage one beer before she started getting sleepy. Must be genetics. Although Jeanette was a small woman. She was only 5’1, yet she was buxom with a 32 D natural bust, small waist and ample hips and backside.

Jeanette wasn’t much of a drinker any way, she was a dancer. The one time that they went to happy hour at a bar that had dancing, Jeanette had drank two beers and the room was already swaying. She loved to dance, but dancing in front of her coworkers and supervisor was anxiety inducing. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself and she felt an incredible level of comfort. Of course, she didn’t completely cut loose, no she just moved in rhythm to the music, turned and twisted at her leisure. Not nearly all that she could do.

Yet, there were moments when she would catch Mr. Rob looking at her…not looking at her the way he did at work. It was like he was looking at her and actually seeing her for the first time. It was like in that moment, he was looking at her and seeing a different woman than the shy, bookish, conservative Black girl at work. His eyes were wide with sensation. …every time she would catch him looking and try to meet his gaze, he’d turn away quickly and smooth back his hair. Maybe it was the scotch haze or maybe she’d imagined it…she didn’t know, all she knew was that she liked that he looked at her and she couldn’t understand why…

She was a nice Black girl and nice black girls aren’t into white men. Although Jeanette was raised by her mother and father in a very Christian household where they never overtly told her to stay away from white men, it was just an unspoken expectation that she knew not to go there. Her grandmother, who she loved dearly and who was an old church lady from North Carolina lived in the house too. Jeanette grew up hearing the horror stories of what life was like in the Old South. She heard stories of lynching and abuse. Jeanette’s grandmother, who always had a kind-heart, had raised the child of her sister alongside Jeanette’s mother. It was a well-known secret in the family that the reason that Jeanette’s grandmother had effectively adopted her niece was because she was the half-white child of Jeanette’s Great Aunt. She had conceived the child with her white employer when she was working as a maid in the 1950s. No one ever said the word, but Jeanette had a feeling that her Great Aunt might have been raped.

So, coming from her background, it was understandable why her family would be hesitant to see their daughter with any white man. The truth was Jeanette was just as hesitant to be involved with a white man. But that didn’t stop Jeanette from sometimes feeling the way she did about Rob.

The truth was, white men scared her. She wasn’t quite sure if she could trust them or not. Her fear was rooted in history and culture, yet she wished that she could trust Rob.

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