As someone who is often sought for advice on interracial relationships, I’ve heard some cray cray stuff, but none as crazy as Asian moms threatening their sons that they will commit suicide if they marry their black girlfriends. And why? They feel like having a black daughter-in-law will literally make them die of shame.

I had a male friend (Chinese) have his mother threaten to kill herself when she learned that he would be taking his long distance romance with a Jamaican girl from Florida a bit closer, as in, he was going to move her in his home. Did I mention his mother was living there too? It caused my friend so much stress and heart ache that I believe it may have contributed to their ultimate break up.

Now it has happened again, this time with a female friend who has been dating a Vietnamese man for some time (her story in my book, Swirling).  Their relationship continues to become more serious and committed and the rainbeau’s mother is about ready to fall on a Samurai sword. She wrote me this…

So this man’s mother tells him… that Im fat (which ok but actively losing for me not for her by a long shot), black and tell his sister (who bless her heart did her best to vouch for me ) that because Im black and have a child I would con [my boyfriend] into getting me pregnant and then once I had the baby leave him and take him for everything he is worth….. THEN tell [him] that if he ever brings me home she will KILL HERSELF and that she would rather die than be the laughing stock of the Vietnamese community.

I’ll pause for effect.

I have had my share of rejection dished out when The Hubster and I became serious. It was an adjustment for his parents and their WASP-Y friends. I recall once that upon hearing that Mike and I had (temporarily) broken up, a family friend blurted out to my mother-in-law, “Aren’t you relieved?” But I guaran-dang-tee you nobody threatened to do harm to themselves if we were to marry. Once The Hubster’s parents realized this was the real deal, they fell in line.

Being rejected by the parents of the man you love for the color of your skin is incredibly hurtful. I think I would have rather been rejected because they thought I was a bitch, or that I sang off-key or something. Rejection by way of birth makes you feel powerless.

My friend continues…

I literally have never experienced anything like this before I hover in a weird state of resentment hatred and just plan awe of the ignorance of mostly his mother (shes a drama queen) I took the advice of my asian friends and sent a gift and a note explaining that i understand that they just wnt the best for their son but if they would just get to know me id love to get to know them and take them out to dinner… so they pretty much shit on my gift (an expensive 100+ dollar edible arrangement) and let it spoil then threw it away….. sigh i swear to God they thought i was trying to poison them or something but fuck im at the end of my rope with these damn people…. and really im so tired of the racism in the asian community its not even like in America its almost like they know zero black people and base everything they know about black people on played out crime dramas on ABC.

So what is this couple to do? Apparently her beau isn’t taking this well, and has had to seek a therapist.

Honestly I’m outraged for this couple myself. It mystifies me how other minorities in this country try to pull rank on the totem pole. What these parents are doing to their children is sheer torture, and they should be ashamed.

That said, this is where it takes some cultural sensitivity to look at this situation without my American lenses on. Many in the Asian culture don’t necessarily marry for love first. Marriage is a merging of families and a combining of wealth and resources. And in that culture, the son is everything. The parents often go to live with the son when they become elderly, and the son’s wife is obliged to basically be on her mother-in-law’s beck and call. I’m assuming the suicide threat has more to do with Mommy Dragon feeling like my friend won’t understand and honor these traditions in her old age.

For couples who are going through similar challenges, here’s my recommendation:

Be a united front. You both need to communicate to his parents that this relationship is happening. Just remain respectful and avoid angry confrontations.

Be sympathetic and empathetic. You’re rainbeau needs to know that you will support and stand with him. An Asian man who fears his parents is not inherently weak. That’s the wrong interpretation of what’s going on. Try not to blame your guy for the outrageous behavior of his parents. It’s not his fault–he was born into this situation and had absolutely no say in the matter.

Understand this isn’t necessarily personal. Yes; their rejection based on race hurts you personally, but their bigotry really has nothing to do with you. Any non-Asian who isn’t white would most likely stir up this cluster-cuss.

Don’t force it. It is impossible to influence the behavior of others, but you have complete control over how and what you allow into your psyche.

Know When to Leave. Understand that the way your boyfriend handles this obstacle will set the tone for how he will stand up and defend you until the day his parents are in the ground. Know what your tolerance level is, and follow the relationships equation: If it feels bad more than it feels good, it’s time to call it quits.

One final word: While I want AM/BW relationships to succeed, I think black women need to exercise some serious caution and do a bit of vetting beforehand. Find out if your guy’s parents are immigrants–that’s a biggie. They are not even close to understanding the independent American ideals about romance. And since Asian guys don’t usually bring a girl around the family until he’s really serious, you’re going to have to observe how much of a spine your man has in other ways, and really listen to how he speaks about how he and his parents relate to each other, and what sort of expectations they have.

Mainly this information was surprising because I knew that he had been working in a full-time professional career ever since graduating from college in his early twenties. His undergraduate major was in engineering. Basically, this guy had the skills to command a high-paying salary, high enough to have a bachelor pad. So if he could afford it, why didn’t he go for it?

Turns out that I was about to be given both a lesson in culture and a lesson in economics. My friend is from a South American nation–and had lived there all of his life until coming to the US–that has experienced it’s share of inflationary periods. His home country is a developing nation where the cities are extremely dense, and the only people who can afford to live alone are the rich or those who don’t mind spending the bulk of their income on housing. Middle-class young adults who graduate from college do not move out of their parents’ homes because the only apartments that are affordable are located in poorer areas, and for college graduates who grew up middle-class with Mommie and Daddy in the home there is little desire to move into a slum-like area just to get a taste of independence.

If you combine the dual reasons of economics and love of family life together you can easily understand why many people of South American heritage and those who reside in Southern Europe–Greece, Portugal, Spain–are in no rush to leave the place my amigo and his age cohort jokingly refer to as ‘Hotel Mama’.

After having that conversation I realized that the stereotype of Latin American being unwilling to grow up was untrue–these men are often at home for financial reasons rather than any lack of desire to be independent.

So, ladies, if you met a man and he told you that he lived in Hotel Mama would you still be willing to date him?
_____________________
Jamila Akil is a Senior Editor at Beyond Black and White. Follow her on Twitter @jamilaakil

I’ve been burning the candle at both ends since my infant days. I would tire everyone out with my boundless energy, questions and curiosity. Most people, including kids my own age, would tap out of activities just when I would be getting warmed up.

It always seemed like people couldn’t keep up with me. I’ve since learned to accommodate this inequity, but I digress.

I’ve also always been a very a physical female; strong, aggressive and deeply in love with all things that increases one’s heartbeat.

When I started chasing boys, dating and having sex, same shit, the variety of sexual experiences taught me that not all men are created equal.

What’s the payoff after having maneuvered my time away from my Dad’s watchful eyes, a trip across town, scratching up bus fare to get to the place I’m not supposed to be, and then sneaking in and out of windows, fire escapes and/or by sleeping parents on the couch ?!!!

Not five minutes, I’ll tell you that! #truestory

But since I’m the studious type, I kept going with my social biology experiment. With a pocket full of condoms and a standing appointment at Planned Parenthood, I went where no other woman had gone before. To gain experience with sex.

I approached sex the same way I approached everything else, I sought to learn it, and to master it.

Positions.

Sex toys.

With the lights off……and on.

During the sunrise and as the sun went down. From sundown until sunrise the next morning.

I learned that not all men are created equal after all. I didn’t have to be disappointed by a lazy, inexperienced, or stamina lacking lover. I have standards, and the men better be able to keep up if they hope to ever see me again.

My palate is quite developed these days…..

I revel in the chase.

The dance between male and female.

I’m often the predator, but a young girl couldn’t walk around being plump and juicy without coming to learn about the dreaded neighborhood phenomena known as the DIRTY OLD MAN.

Like a goblin that lives under the bridge, I would be minding my business wandering through my young teen years, when he reveals himself. Tacky, hairy, and sleazy, he looks like every unsettling man you can think of, and he’s honed his Spidey senses onto me.

DIRTY. OLD. MEN. are only after one thing. They prey on young girls and they have horns and hoofs, so I heard.

DIRTY. OLD. MEN. are to be avoided at all cost, lest a dirty old man turns YOU into a puff of smoke!

DIRTY OLD MEN become embedded into a female’s brain as something disgusting, but in time, things may begin to change. As she gets older, the bridge between maturity, adulthood and shared interests lessen with age. The social distance isn’t so hard to adjust to once you get some life experience under your belt.

I dated a creep of an older man who only went after young pretty girls in need of ‘assistance’. I avoided him like the plague until I buckled under the pressure of my friends. I allowed him to take me out for drinks at the local after work watering hole. Though too eager to please me, he was very nice and generous. He seemed excited and nervous during our exchanges. He never did anything strange, but the feeling that something wasn’t right was still there.

Blah. Blah. Blah and a whole lot of liquor and many moons later. We spent the night at the hotel. It was a beautiful place that was quite expensive. He nearly fell down the stairs as he attempted to keep up with my skipping up the steps two at a time back when I had knees that did that cool shit.

I slept like a baby in that bed while he pouted, huffed and puffed over his inability to ‘enjoy’ our evening.

I was only slightly annoyed. If I”m in bed with you than I expect some action, dammit.

I had guys my age whose flag flapped in the wind when it was supposed to be at full staff, its depressing.

I began to associate age with (even more likely) sexual dysfunction, in addition to the awkwardness and inability to keep up as I had already experienced with previous sex partners. DIRTY. OLD. MEN., the boogeymen, weren’t allowed on my radar, at ALL, thanks to this guy.

In time, he fell to wayside, resentful that he had found himself in a room full of diamonds, yet he lacked the hands to grab his fill of riches now that he had his chance.

DIRTY. OLD. MAN. And life went on.

IT guy was only a few years older than I, when we met, but at 40, I still considered him an old man while in my late 20′s.

Caramel skinned, and a recently retired Marine, he made coming to work not so bad first thing in the morning. With a minor in Computer Sci that I had just withdrawn from, I was hired to be his assistant, he kept my secret and taught me everything I needed to know about logistics infrastructures and computing.

Since I was a fast learner, it wasn’t long before we were able to spend most of our day hidden away in the catacombs of the warehouse, giggling and joking like two school age kids. We had ‘great chemistry’ if you get my drift and I think you do.

His Scorpio went very well with my Capricorn. We were from the same general neighborhood in Newark, and had many other things in common. He was so intelligent, our conversations spanned topic and subjects, both of us passionate and assertive debaters. A heated exchange produced a Hallmark card and chocolates once. We weren’t boss and the chick under the boss any more. #pun

Well.

Blah, blah, blah… happened and let’s just say he changed my mind about ‘older men’. I had an amazing affair with him, peppered by laughter, lovemaking, life lessons and intimacy. I crawled out the room, got the chance to play in a power exchange relationship and his body was dope as Hell. #semper fi

I miss that guy…….*rocks and hums*

Fast forward to not to long ago when I befriended a brethren blogger who shall, hopefully, remain nameless. I would wait on his articles to publish just so that I could read the beautiful words that come from his mind.

Adult themed essays never seemed so when he wrote them, regardless of the topic, or subject matter.

If words were foreplay then he gave good dictionary.

The awareness, open mindedness and freedom he expresses in his writing represents all things a woman would want to have embedded in the heart of the man she’s sleeping with.

I watched for as long as I could without making myself known; I later found out that he had been reading my adult themed pieces as well. #gamerecognizesgame

Work needs on the web site we wrote for required us to communicate via chat for blog meetings, it wasn’t too long before we began our own personal internet friendship. He and I exchanged numbers and have only spoken on the phone a hand full of times.

We spent the night talking that first time, all the way until sun up the next morning, I remember listening to him say something profound as the orange of the sun bled into the dark dawn sky.

I held the phone against my ear like I had done to my Princess cordless back in the 90s.

I waited for the words to fall out of his mouth. He said nothing naughty and everything tantalizing. Nothing insulting, and everything irreverent, intelligent and bare knuckles face front.

We sincerely discussed everything personal, private, contrite, intimate and sexual.

We were mind fucking…and I loved it.

At some point when adults discuss personal details, age does come up, hearing that he was 20+ older than I caused me to bat an eye. Just one.

I still held a bias against older men. In my mind, any man significantly older than I qualified as a DIRTY. OLD. MAN.

I’m still un-learning childish things…..

Fast forward nearly a year later. I am running around Manhattan lost.

A die hard New Yorker, my writing amore tried his best to text me back on the right path so that I could make my lunch date. It wasn’t happening, so instead he suggested an impromptu meet for us.

He gave me directions that I was actually able to follow, and kept check on me as I moved from street to street, he did better than Google map ever did.

I arrived on the correct block, he saw me coming before I recognized him. A loud obnoxious whistle  loud as I crossed the street in search of him. I turned to curse out whoever was doing the whistling or throw a dirty look, when I realized it was him.

He apologized that our dinner would have to be discreetly priced, as he was recently laid off from a position he held for many years. I didn’t care if we went to McDonald’s, where means nothing to me, its always the who that I give a fuck about it.

We make our way to South Street Seaport and into a restaurant that I had often stared at from the outside but doubted I could or would indulge in the cost of ever eating in. The waiter addressed us promptly and my now ‘date’ responded in a very masculine decisive way.

As he stepped aside to allow me to walk ahead of him, I realized how much I enjoyed and was accustomed to being treated as the ‘lady’ by a man who enjoys being ‘the man’. The better part of this realization is the fact that although we can both adhere to gender roles, neither of us are so embedded in the robotic existence of ‘man’ and ‘woman’ that there was no room to also exist as ‘human beings.

He requested a seat by the back next to a picture window in the nearly empty restaurant.

“I thought you would enjoy sitting back here. You like the water and there’s a great view of the skyline here.”

Chair pulled out. I am seated.

We began light banter that was rudely interrupted by my inability to remain focused.

His eyes.

His voice.

His laughter.

The NYC tough sounding accent conveyed opinions and a vocabulary that betrayed the poised man sitting in front of me. He’s lived three lives, and has loved women through each of them. Down and out. Rebellious. Renewal. Humility. Full circle awareness.

No wife. No children. Not on purpose.

I was just as intrigued by him in person as I was while reading his work and during our phone conversations.

I stared intently at him across a candle lit table, as the sun set in the New York harbor. I saw a lot of things, but age wasn’t one of them.

When faced with too many options, I get overwhelmed, this means that I should not be left alone with a menu and asked to make a decision. I will consider each item, twice, and still go with burgers or fries or something I know I eat just so that I’ll order something, otherwise, I won’t eat at all.

He was aware of this, from our conversations, and so he suggested three options of things that I do eat that adhered to my finicky eating habits.

Problem solved.

When presented with the wine option.

What? Who…?

He chose a splendid wine that had something to do with something about the food and type of toes made to create it, and I loved it. We had more conversation, and more laughter, and a delightful ROMANTIC date.

The check came. The meal was paid for. The waiters and servers were graciously thanked and compensated. I had my chair pulled out and coat slide onto my shoulders by a man that smelled ‘like that’ to me.

An extended walk to the train led to us taking cell phone pictures of objects rather than each other. The crowded street forced us to walk closer together, his arm always gently on my back to lead me in this direction or that. I was disappointed to find us standing outside of the train station.

More talking as people bumped us and shot annoyed looks at our taking up precious commuter train dashing space.

Uncomfortable looks and apprehension from me. I had let my ‘dirty old men’ opinion be known early on and my date was absolutely platonic behaving up to this point.

My train was about to leave and I couldn’t miss the last thing smoking to my home state.

Normally, I’m the predator, and then I decided to be prey by stepping into his personal space to give him the go head to do what comes next.

“What about your ‘dirty old man’ policy?” He teases.

“I sure hope so”, I respond over my shoulder as I run for my train.

What made me change my mind? Because judging by age is kinda stupid and the only person missing out on an awesome guy will be me and I hate missing a good meal!

He’s in better shape than many men my age and much younger. He’s experienced in life, and also with women both in and out of the bedroom. I know we have plenty of purity police here so does a man having a sex life previous to one with you make him ‘damaged goods’ or an experienced lover for you to enjoy?

So….I said all that to say:

What’s your feelings about older men? When dating, its easy to fall into using stereotypes to judge and dismiss certain people. Why do older guys unfairly get a bad rep when it comes to being considered as viable mates and partners? I know we here a lot about Viagra but before the onslaught of the magical blue pill there were still plenty of men who had the gusto naturally.

What are the benefits of dating an older man? I sure did enjoy a man who understood traditional roles who also happens to be very forward thinking and progressive due to the years he’s had on this Earth to work on himself.

What are the drawbacks? Age doesn’t equal death when 30 year olds are dying of heart attacks and others live to be 100. If there are no kids involved, doesn’t this just become a case of two people who are considering their viability as a couple or is there more to it?

Have you dated an older man/woman?

Say something so I’m not here talking to myself dammit!!

#TeamShadesofGrey in full affect!!! Whose with me……?

Cérémonies à Marrakech from Mariage de Cynthia et Hatim on Vimeo.

Beautiful pics are found on Munaluchi Brides  by Christophe Photo.  Gorgeous!

Janet Jackson’s upcoming wedding to Qatari billionaire Wissam Al Mana  has the whole world talking. It appears that the beloved little sister of Michael finally found true love — in the arms of an Arab man. Her fiance is equally smitten, telling the magazine Harpers Bazaar Arabia, “I’m fortunate enough to be dating my dream woman.”

While the “Thats the way love Goes” singer’s relationships will always make headlines, I’m here to tell you that similar pairings (of the non-celebrity ilk) are alive, well and thriving.

First, a little about me. I was Born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, a graduate of Howard University class of 1999 who switched careers from TV news to licensed teacher in 2008. The education field, like many others, has not fared well in this austere economy. With the district I worked for continuing to lay off teachers, my prospects for full time employment looked dim.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I would one day teach overseas.  I called the guidance counselor at my University, exasperated with fatigue from the job search and asked, “Is there anything I haven’t thought of?”
In fact there was.

In September 2010 I packed my bags (just 2 because i couldn’t afford any extra fees–I was broke) and flew to Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates, an oil-rich Sheikhdom embarking on an education reform that sought to put thousands of native English speakers in their classrooms. I had just $50 bucks in my pocket- borrowed from my sister.
Before leaving I had done my research on the country’s history, laws and culture – but nowhere online would you find anything that answers the question, “what do they think of black women?”
Before moving to the Middle East I had had little contact with Arabs. Where I grew up they were just the brave men who ran the gas station or corner store. Not anyone I could count as a friend or even an acquaintance. I had NO preconceived notions about the Arab community in the states or abroad. I judge people individually and as a black woman, know what it’s like to be unfairly stereotyped in the media.
Nothing a sister could do on reality TV could ever invoke as much blanket suspicion of an entire ethnic group like the events of September 11th 2001 did to the Arabs.
My first encounter with an Arab man was shortly after I arrived. I was still housed in a hotel (5 star no less – a sista made a come up!) and was standing at a bus stop heading to the grocery store.
Soon a shiny champagne colored Lexus stopped in front of me. “Do you need a ride?”  There he was, a man in traditional attire- the long white garment known as a kandoora and the accompanying headdress.
“I didn’t know you talked to us,” I said.
Now you’d have to be a fool to do this in most places- but in the United Arab Emirates – a place where giving someone the middle finger will get you a court date- I felt safe getting in his car.        He dropped me off at the store and asked me out for coffee. From the experience with this gentleman and others- and I can only speak from my experience – I feel that I can safely say that Arab men make a good partner because they are devoted family men who are generous, hospitable and *bonus* appreciate a curvier physique on a woman. In addition, I can say that many are high achievers who value education and business acumen. Most are Muslim and you may find their strong relationship with God attractive.
Side note- inter-marriage between Muslims, Christians and Jews is permissible in Islam without the wife converting. One thing PROHIBITED by Islam is the judging of others by skin color.
Now naysayers of my preference of men will cite stereotypes seen and heard in the media-  The Arab man as a domineering mate with a repressed woman, forced to veil her face, resigned to the fact that her husband can marry up to four wives.
From my perspective, the aforementioned situations do occur- but are the exception, not the rule.

Dating an Arab man may or may not include the following- holding out on sex until marriage and not meeting the family until an engagement is announced.

Several African American teachers have moved to the UAE, Egypt, Oman and Saudi Arabia..lured by generous salary and housing packages..and we’re not hurting for a date.

If you’re up to it, I would advise all my fellow African American women to consider following myself and Janet and “get your Princess Jasmine on with your very own Aladdin.”

There’s a snag, though. My Asian friend, who owns his own home, lives with his mother, a nationalized Chinese immigrant. My friend, let’s call him Jimmy, did not live with his mother for the first nine years of his life. He stayed with his father back in China while his mother stayed in the U.S. until she could send for them. Finally Jimmy and his dad came over, but the marriage didn’t last. Jimmy lived with his mother thereafter. She lived in another state than Jimmy up until recently. Now, she’s moved in, presumably temporarily, until she can find her own place. But as it stands now, she’s dependent on her son for shelter.

Back to the girlfriend. She visits over the holidays, at which time she meets Jimmy’s mother. His mother takes an immediate dislike to her because she doesn’t cook, clean or cater to her and her son. He tells Jimmy she thinks she’s lazy, and poor (mind you she’s a student) and that most black people she knows are poor. She tells Jimmy that if the girlfriend moves in, she’s moving out. She threatens to emotionally cut him off too (she has no $$ so she can’t use that to manipulate him). This is quite distressing for Jimmy, because he knows his mother doesn’t have the resources to move out on her own. Plus she’s hysterical–yelling, hitting herself, rolling on the floor foaming at the mouth over this mess.

Jimmy tells his girlfriend what’s happening, and understandably she’s quite hurt. She’s being judged by the color of her skin and being pigeonholed into a stereotype, and is confused that as a guest, she was expected to cook and clean when those expectations weren’t put upon by her boyfriend, the owner of the home. Emotional and distressed, she breaks up with Jimmy and he’s about to go nuts because he doesn’t know what to do. He had no idea his mother held any bigotry toward black people, and he’s stunned. He told me, “My mom sees all my black guy friends and she’s so friendly and accommodating. I couldn’t believe the racial comments she made.”

Since we were chatting on Skype, I gave him a e-pat on the head, because I had to explain to him, a completely Americanized Chinese man, what gave his mother the heebie-jeebies. I told him,”She’s friendly with your black male friends because you won’t be marrying and making babies with them. Your mother was raised in China. Generally, when a Chinese girl comes to meet the parents, it’s assumed she is a strong contender to join the family. They’ll expect her to cook and clean and cater to the parents because for them, this is a trial run. They want to see what kind of wife she’ll be, and since you’re the son, your mom expects that she’ll be living with you in her old age with her daughter-in-law basically being her servant. Don’t you ever watch those Korean soap operas??” Okay I fudged that last part but I really did say everything else.

The good news is that Jimmy and the girlfriend have made up for now, but the mother problem still remains. I told him that I’d pose this conundrum to the folks here in hopes some of you might be able to advise him about a solution.

*Sidenote: As a general rule, Asian men won’t introduce a woman to  his parents unless it’s a pretty serious relationship. Even though Jimmy is 30, this is the first time his mother has ever met any of his girlfriends in person.

Night after night, long after both of my parents had fallen asleep, I would sneak out into the living room. I manually (gasp!) turned the television dial in search of something interesting to watch on television in the midnight hour.

There wasn’t much to choose from back then, and for that I’m lucky, had there been a billion channels to choose from like there is now, then I would never know the brilliance of Star Trek. Wikipedia does a perfectly good job of filling you young folk in on the details of this morsel of out of the box thinking.

Star Trek is an Americanscience fictionentertainment franchise created by Gene Roddenberry and currently under the ownership of CBS.^{[Note 1]} The franchise began in 1966 with the television series Star Trek later referred to as Star Trek: The Original Series.

Yes!! I thought it was only the television show until one day I was in a book store and wandered over to the sci-fi section. There I was shocked to learn there was not only more Star Trek, there were different and new and alternative forms of Star Trek. For a girl who would go on to become a writer, finding out that it was acceptable to take a story and re-work it was grand. I had found a new world, I had a name, Trekkie, I was excited. My peers on the other hand, thought I was a weirdo geek when I tried to put them down on this elite club of fiction lovers.

Star Trek has been a cult phenomenon since its beginning.^[1] Fans of the franchise are called Trekkies or Trekkers. The franchise a wide range of spin-offs including games, novels, toy lines and replicas. Star Trek had a themed attraction in Las Vegas which opened in 1998 and closed in September 2008. At least two museum exhibits of props travel the world. The series even has its own full-fledged constructed language, Klingon. Star Trek is noted for its influence on the world outside of science fiction. It has been cited as an inspiration for several technological inventions such as the cell phone. Moreover, the show is noted for its progressive civil rights stances. The original series included one of television’s first multiracial casts, and the first televised multiracial kiss.

Nichlle Nichols, who played Lieutenant Uhura on Star Trek mesmerized me. She was petite, poised and seemed to have such an important job, since Captain Kirk had to refer to her for certain information before he raised his eye brow and looked intently into the camera. I wasn’t the only one who was intrigued with the chocolate brown beauty with the cute go-g0 skirt-ish space ship uniform.

It was in Star Trek that Nichols gained popular recognition by being one of the first black women featured in a major television series not portraying a servant; her prominent supporting role as a bridge officer was unprecedented. During the first year of the series, Nichols was tempted to leave the show, as she wanted to pursue a Broadway career; however, a conversation with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., changed her mind. She has said that King personally encouraged her to stay on the show, telling her that he was a big fan of the series. He said she “could not give up” because she was playing a vital role model for black children and young women across the country, as well as for other children who would see African Americans appearing as equals.^[5][6] It is also often reported that Dr. King added that “Once that door is opened by someone, no one else can close it again.”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one geeking off on Lieutenant Uhura.

Former NASA astronaut Mae Jemison has cited Nichols’s role of Lieutenant Uhura as her inspiration for wanting to become an astronaut and Whoopi Goldberg has also spoken of Nichols’s influence.^[7] Goldberg asked for a role on Star Trek: The Next Generation,^[8] and the character of Guinan was specially created, while Jemison appeared in an episode of the series.

Who knew I was watching history go down, all I know is that Captain Kirk was giving her the sleepy eye and there was a lot of whispering and slow build up to the final PUCKER!!!

If I’m not mistaken, seeing these two sizzle on screen was what made me know that I would one day become a fan of kissing, just as soon as I figured out boys.

I, too, wanted to experience the world’s longest apprehensive pucker…….thanks to these two!!

In her role as Lieutenant Uhura, Nichols famously kissed white actor William Shatner as Captain James T. Kirk in the November 22, 1968, Star Trek episode “Plato’s Stepchildren“. The episode is popularly cited as the first example of an inter-racial kiss on United States television.^[9][10][11] The Shatner-Nichols kiss was seen as groundbreaking, even though the kiss was portrayed as having been forced by alientelekinesis.

There was some praise and some protest. In her 1994 autobiography, Beyond Uhura, Star Trek and Other Memories, on page 197 Nichols cites a letter from one 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.”

I feel so much better now after having gotten this off my chest. I can’t possibly be the only Black girl Trekkie here.

So let me know…..am I the lone freak here or what? And if not, what’s your favorite Star Trek episode? I had the hots for Sulu, Spock, and Scotty…..*blank stare*

I found the Dr. Spock character from the 2009 Star Trek movie to be extremely sexy; also the fact that he was involved in an intergalactic tension filled swirling love triangle between he, and young Kirk, as they grinned and beard each other’s company while pining for the lovely Uhura (played by Zoe Saldano).

*Spock fingers*

Live long and prosperous…

By “Long Nguyen”

First off, let me start with a disclaimer. This is my own analysis regarding my interracial relationship with my parents. It is based on only my viewpoint and my own memories and feelings. My parents aren’t here to offer their own point of view on anything, and they certainly would not approve of me airing out our laundry on the internet for strangers to read and judge. So to protect their privacy, I will not be posting this article under my real name. Also, this shouldn’t be used as a guide to explain family conflict regarding interracial relationships with every Asian family. This is my story and mine alone.
OK, since we got that out of the way, you can just call me “Long Nguyen.”

My parents were born and grew up in Vietnam, and did not move over here until they were adults after they had graduated high school over there. I was born and raised in the United States. For them, Vietnamese was their primary culture and American was secondary. It was the opposite for me.

Dating was not an issue at first, as I was one of those overly studious, awkwardly shy, awesome at math, nerdy Asian stereotypes in school and I never really had a serious girlfriend for a while. I went out on dates here and there, but they usually never went anywhere and nothing was substantial enough to tell my parents about or introduce them to anyone.

Of course, knowing that my parents grew up and spent much of their lives in Vietnam, I expected that their clear number one preference would be for me to date and marry a Vietnamese girl. Since both their primary culture and primary speaking language is Vietnamese, there would be a lot more familiarity to make it easy for them to relate to her and her family. They also wanted my future wife to be well-educated, have a good job (or be on the way to one), and come from a nice respectable family, as most parents would. No surprises there.

I have tried to ask out Vietnamese and other Asian girls. I am attracted to Asian women, but I just never really hit it off with any. As I grew older, I then found myself extremely attracted to both white and black women as well.

I never really brought up my attraction to non-Asian women growing up because I assumed it would not be THAT much of an issue. I was also striking out left and right with all women, so I had no one to bring home to show them and see how they would react. I figured “Well, I was born and raised in the US, it shouldn’t be that big a deal if I dated someone an American and not a Vietnamese or Asian girl.” I went to public schools for elementary and middle school, so I had a diverse array of ethnicities amongst my friends as well, and my parents never talked badly of or objected to any of them.

In high school and then college I attempted to date mostly Asian and occasionally white women, as I mostly hung out with kids that were part of the Asian student associations in my schools and those were the demographics most readily available to me, so I didn’t realize how mistaken my assumption about who I dated was until later.

In graduate school, I made a lot of new friends, but it just so happened that most of them were black. It was nothing I specifically sought out, for whatever reason it just out that the people I best got along with were a lot of the black students in my classes. Of course, since I found myself around a lot more black women than I had ever been before, I found myself attracted to some of them. I then tried to ask a few black girls I met out, and that’s when I really learned about my parents’ view on interracial dating.

It was at this point in my life that we started having a series of serious sit-down talks. No surprise, Vietnamese women are at the top of the dating preference list, for obvious reasons as stated above. The consolation prize would be non-Vietnamese Asian women. Even though they wouldn’t share the exact same language and culture, my parents felt like their cultural values and sensibilities would be close enough for them to feel somewhat comfortable with. Any non-Asian race or ethnicity was not preferred, and even white women were included in this group, which surprised me because several of my cousins had at this point in time broken that barrier and married white women. Then again, my cousins were not the children of my parents, I was.

This new bit of knowledge did make me wary of whom I tried to date for a short while. However, I was still vastly unsuccessful with dating. When I moved away to start my first full-time career oriented job, I was tired of being alone and felt limiting my dating pool was detrimental to my social health. I made the decision to date whomever I was attracted to, no matter what their race or ethnicity was.

As I was still falling flat on my face in the dating scene, I then opened the door to online dating for the first time. In my preferences, I checked the boxes of every single race and ethnicity they listed as being someone to match me with.

After a few more misses with girls on that dating website who were Asian, white, black, and Hispanic, I finally really and truly clicked with someone. And, oh yeah, she’s black. Whatever, we seemed to have quite a bit of chemistry during our e-mail exchanges and online chatting, let’s just exchange phone numbers so we can set up a date and see how it goes.

As I said before, I can be extremely shy and quite socially awkward. This can lead to a lot of painful silences on dates. This didn’t happen with her! On our first date we were supposed to do the dinner and a movie thing, only we never got past dinner. We sat in that restaurant and talked for more than 4 hours. It might have been longer, but they had to clean up and close the place down, so we got (politely) kicked out. Suffice it to say, that first date blossomed into true love and a very serious, committed relationship.

I told my parents about her after we got serious a few months in. Aside from being black American and not Vietnamese or Asian, she was everything else they could ask for. Her parents are both working professionals, and when we were first dating she was in graduate school on her way to having a good job. They saw that I was “crazy” about her so they were willing to give her a chance.

But they began nit-picking her, without even meeting her yet. They didn’t like that she cursed in some of her Facebook status updates (only occasionally just to vent, mind you). They felt it was inappropriate to see her in a bikini in one of her profile pictures (she was not in a suggestive or provocative pose and she was with her mother, both of them covered in mud).

Then when they finally did meet her, they didn’t like the dress she wore to meet them (it was a cute but colorful and casual one-piece from Old Navy, not short and not revealing at all). They also didn’t think she was polite enough (and therefore, not showing enough respect) towards them. Really, it felt like they were just complaining about any little thing to use as an excuse to not approve of her. And I felt if she were

Vietnamese or Asian, they would be much more forgiving of these perceived “faults.”
But through all this, we remained strong together, and my parents seemed like they were trying harder to accept her and our relationship.

Until they saw some pictures I e-mailed them of us together.

“My girlfriend wears her hair natural, and I support her for it. Most of the time, she has her hair down in twists or braids, or sometimes just tied-up in a ponytail. Every once in a while, she doesn’t do anything with her and “lets it all hang out” so to speak. When she does this, her hair can get quite poofy and big. I honestly think it’s quite beautiful.”

The one and only time my parents met her, she had her hair down in twists. But it just so happened in these pictures that I sent to my parents that her hair happened to be “up.”

They thought her hair was too “wild.” Trying to convince them her hair was not a big deal (which was harder than I expected because apparently they had black co-workers who agreed with them to validate their point of view) led to learning another set of revelations.

Ultimately, they were against our relationship because they perceived that black American culture and Vietnamese/Asian cultures are far too different to be compatible. Because of this, they felt as if they would not be able to relate or get along with a black family. My parents were also afraid of racism against us and our future children (this especially became a hot topic when the Trayvon Martin murder happened).
However, most of all, I believe they felt that I was rejecting or abandoning their native culture from Vietnam in favor of black and American culture. In graduate school, they once told me they thought I was acting “too black” when they observed me hanging out with my group of predominately black friends, celebrating our graduation. During the course of this relationship, they described to me this fear they had that I would “transform into a black man” and become “unrecognizable” to them when all was said and done.

Now, I recognize how ridiculous this is. At this point in the story, they had only met her ONCE and had never even met her family! However, I will not absolve myself of blame for perpetuating these misperceptions and ill-conceived notions. I believe I made things worse and validated (in their minds) their irrational concerns by becoming avoidant with them.

It can be difficult and wearisome to deal with their resistance and discomfort with our dating relationship week in and week out, and I am not a confrontational person, so eventually I hardly ever discussed the various ins and outs of my dating relationship with them at all. This was problematic in the sense that it more than likely prolonged and dragged out our conflict instead of getting it settled much sooner. It also made things worse because I was “lying by omission” to them. They were hurt by the fact that I wasn’t being open and honest with them, as they were not being told of different and at times important things going on in my life.

“You see, in Vietnamese culture, your entire family (not just your significant other and your own children, but also your parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.) is supposed to be the most important part of your life and your community.”

By not being open and honest with them, I was not only distancing myself from them but also being completely disrespectful to them. The ideas of the children “leaving the nest” and becoming “completely separate and independent” from the parents is seen as being a very American or Western cultural value. So to my folks, based on my actions it seemed like I was rejecting both them and also Vietnamese cultural values in favor of American cultural values instead. This in turn led to them feeling that my girlfriend and our relationship were both bad, corrupting influences on me.

Things finally came to a head, but we all decided to get past our differences and work everything out, because in the end we love each other. They have gotten to know my girlfriend better and spend some more time with her, and now they like her (although they’re still trying to get a handle on her natural hair, but whatever). They are currently supportive of her and our relationship as well as where I want to take it in the future.

It helps that my girlfriend and I are showing that we are interested in learning about (and therefore not rejecting) Vietnamese culture either. We bought some books about Vietnamese culture and CDs that help teach the Vietnamese language. We are going through them together, using my parents to help guide us and answer any questions we have.

I would be remiss if I didn’t give any credit for my girlfriend for putting up with all of this and sticking by me. I couldn’t have done it without her unwavering love and support of me and of us. One of my greatest fears is that she would break up with me because of this struggle with my parents. I certainly would not have blamed her, and I understand the feelings of those on the various interracial blogs I peruse that have stated they wouldn’t date anyone if their family can’t be accepting of them.

This conflict with my parents certainly did cause strains on our relationship. We survived not only because we love and support one another, but also because I was able to assure her and demonstrate to her that I believed in our relationship and did not allow my parents’ disapproval to break us up.

“So yeah, I’m going to ask her to marry me. Very soon.”

I hope you found this to be an interesting and enjoyable read.
Sincerely,
“Long Nguyen”

Chile, bye, in all actuality, I’ll chase a man down like a hound dog sprinting behind an innocent barn rabbit.

I ADORE MEN and I’m sure I grew into this person due to my relationship with my foster father, Big Jesse.

See, I was a non-apologetic Daddy’s girl who grew up in the loving bubble of a man who gave his love through big doses of all of the good stuff that guys have to offer us female folk.

My father was easy going whereas my mother was conservative and strict. I could ask him anything and he had an answer for me, if not an accurate answer, he had a response so filled with details and particulars that it took time for me to figure out that he was pulling my leg to see how much of a sucker I willing to be.

To this day I love a man with a story to tell.

During my early days of dancing, I would sit and bullshit with the men who frequented the bar I worked in. Most of them were older, working Joe’s who would come in for a beer and to blow steam. They’d get to telling long tales and I’d listen in, and then chime in with a hearty “I CALL BULLSHIT!” to the roar of the listening crowd.

With men, its okay to call them on their shit, it lets them know you’re not a chump. And they appreciate that.

A country boy from North Carolina, my Dad taught me all types of interesting things like; how to carve figures out of wood, how to make a sling shot, how to make home made wine, and how to throw a basketball in the hoop. I still got great aim if ever I need to bust you in the head with a handmade weapon from a distance, you know, like in the zombie movies.

I can still carve pretty good though these days I prefer to use ice or clay. I want to make homemade wine one day, but I never did get too good at basketball….

My Dad had a devilish sense of humor that would unleash a huge laugh and a set of specific body motions to go with it. I loved watching him chuckle while he watched Foghorn Leghorn cartoons on Sunday morning.

He refused to go to church with my mother, and after awhile I managed to stay home with him, and the time we spent watching television and talking is so much more valuable then anything I would have learned at church. I learned to appreciate my father’s efforts to keep us fed, clothed and housed. When I asked him why he chose not to go to church with my mother, he told me that he’s not going to thank a white statute for providing for his family when he gets up to work everyday in order to provide.

That made perfect sense to me. I’m more than happy to show my appreciation to a man whose willing to provide for me and make my life easier. Whether he’s sharing his Chinese chicken wings and french fries or use of his entire mansion.

While alone on some Sunday’s we’d fix things in the house. I was his helper and it was my very important job to hand him tools while he explained what we were doing and why.

He never…..ever….EVER….got tired of answering my endless streams of ‘Why?’ And for that, I’m so grateful. I’m now a woman who loves to ‘help’ a guy handle a project, I stick my face all into whatever it is and ask ‘why?’ so that I can learn something new.

I won’t date a man who can’t fix things or one who is unable to teach me anything. I can give my car a tune up, change a tire, replace fuses in cars and the house and I’m not too shabby with a screwdriver though my hands are too small so I just use a nail and hammer, same difference.

But I can put together Ikea furniture in my sleep. Guys like girls who can ‘do shit’.

My father loved music and entertaining. He was also a great cook who would take me with him along trips about town to collect certain ingredients for certain dishes he promised his friends he would prepare for the Christmas holidays. The holidays were a cause for people, music and noise. He and his friends would sit in the kitchen seated wherever there was room. He would brag and boast as he urged his guests to try a little of this, and don’t forget to grab a slice of that before its all gone.

Glasses of home made wine poured freely, and in time, the singing would begin. My mother would fuss about the noise and then storm off to bed. I would sneak back out of my room and have a dam ball watching them carry on until I would eventually be bribed with silver dollars to go to sleep.

I love having the people that I love in my home, feeding them, taking care of them, loving them. And I love a man who loves and enjoys having friends and family around.

My Dad, yeah, he showed me how to appreciate that about men, too.

I expect men to have friends, and a social life and a way to blow off steam. I love men who think its their job to grill, to cut the Thanksgiving Turkey, or a man who goes out of his way to cook something for me. It’s their way of showing love, and even though it might not be a Tiffany diamond encrusted bracelet, it means the same dam thing to me.

Sunday mornings were filled with talk radio and conversation. My Dad made these biscuits from scratch that would make you slap your Momma. Though I was usually the helper, Dad wouldn’t allow help with his Special Sunday Breakfast, this was something he was doing for his special ladies.

My mother wouldn’t indulge in biscuits and molasses, but Dad would serve mine just like his, buttered and smeared on a huge plate. Away from my mother’s disapproving stare, we would use the biscuits to ‘sop up’ the molasses  smack our lips and lick our fingers at the kitchen table in silence. I sure did love fatback way back then.

He taught me that men are more than willing to indulge in your whims if you’ll allow them to.

Priceless.

The first kiss that set your body all tingly? That was a guy that did that, No?

The cool geeky guy that helped you get through high school chem class by giving you answers to test? Yup, that’s just a guy angel. (Thanks, Andre)

Little boy hugs and kisses, which don’t come as nearly as easily or as often as girl affection does, so you’re all the more sure to take in every little bit of guy sweetness while you can from little guys.

Guys…the people that are usually sexy firemen.
Guys…..your brothers, male cousins and uncles. You do adore them don’t you? As a teen I was totally into my one boy cousin, away from adults and his sister, we actually got along pretty good and he was no where near as obsessively hood Christian as his sister became.

Guys..the platonic ones that would occupy my stoop as a teen. The ones who told me I was cool, even though I hadn’t yet realized I was.

Guys…the ones who like you enough to tell you the truth about that wack dude your dating, and kind enough not to take your moment of weakness as an opportunity for him to slide in on  some Superman Lover type shit.

Guys…the ones who carry furniture when you move.

Don’t get me started on looking at them…? *sigh* I mean how does one gaze upon men like this, and so, so, so many more and not just….

Old Tyrese circa Sweet Lady days

Afro Maxwell or clean cut Maxwell

Ken Watanabe (Yes, Lawd)

Michael Phelp *blink*

Mikhail Baryshnakov

Their voice. Capable of inflicting so many emotion simply by inflection.

The way they smell when they smell really good. I’ll have a  random man pass me in a huge place like Grand Central Station and like a vampire sniffing human blood. I gets a little dizzy and flush in the face, if you catch my drift.

And what about the guys who make life easier?

Like your accountant who looks just like Doogie Howser. How do you not love a guy that saves and hides your money legally?

Not every man is meant for you to sleep with, or marry but I said all this to say…

Do you love men?

And if not….why?

Because if you’re here considering marriage or a relationship and don’t necessarily like men, then a lot more stands in your way besides racial disparities and dating, my dear.

Passive anger isn’t sexy, and judging from some of the comments found here and there on the interwebs, some of us may need to practice being good friends with men before we even attempt to be good partners for them.

That’s just my five cents…you can keep the change.

Within the heterosexual dating market, men tend to prefer women who personify the feminine ideal while women prefer men who embody masculinity. Galinsky showed that men are more attracted to Asian women relative to black women, while women are more attracted to black men relative to Asian men. Even more interesting, the more a man valued femininity the more likely he was attracted to an Asian women and the less likely he was attracted to an black women. The same effect occurred for women, with attraction to masculinity driving the differential attraction to black men and Asian men.

This news is not surprising to me, which is why I made the video, “Why the Strong Black Woman Must Die.”

I’d also like to “kill” what this woman represents for black women:

The grotesque neck-twirling, lip screwed up ball-busting black woman is what many people think of when they conjure up images of black women.

Never mind that I know more black women that look and act like this woman…

Most of my African American girlfriends embody the many of the qualities of our first lady.

Asian Men are ‘Soft?”

No need for a towel. This man is so hot that water will boil right off.

Conversely, Asian men are viewed as “soft” or “feminine” by other racial groups. Think about how this impacts swirling. The masculine stereotype attributed to black people benefits black men when it comes to interracial dating, and one can suggest the data supports this. The researchers looked at 2000 Census data and saw that “among black-white marriages, 73 percent had a black husband.” The “feminine” stereotype benefits Asian women, which the data also supports, but leaves Asian men in the lurch, just the same as how the “masculine” stereotype dings black women