Lives matter

Every time you assert the minority category you belong to, you will strengthen that differentiation. So, if you introduce yourself as: “Hi, I’m …. and I am gay.”, it implies that it’s the most important thing to you, that it’s what you want me to remember you for, or even that you want to be greeted and addressed based on the label. It’s the same with black Americans, it seems.

And while I am not opposing that we live in a white male patriarchical society, ie that it is founded by white men that thereby set the standards from which we all evaluate everything, I oppose your problem with it. Just hand it over. Let them deal with it.

I need a man to deal with my problems in Sweden, since the political correctedness and overall cautiousness results in nothing. I have to scream and shout to get anything done, and have had to, for more than a decade. I need a man who can take that fight for me, or simply will not need to, since he will be met differently. My grandfather, who worked as a firechief for 50 years, used to say that women simply have less lung-capacity than men and therefore should avoid becoming firefighters. No need to argue with that.

What are black people especially good at? Why is this looked down on? And does my life matter less because I don’t want to have a black American boyfriend? Or constantly would compare it with African Germans or African Portugese?

I did have a relationship with an African American man. And it was my own fault, because I thought it was cool to have sex with a black guy, after my mother had died and I went to Hawaii in 2004 and 2005.

I was asked out the first time in the United States by a black guy on an airplane between Zürich and Miami in 2002. He called a couple of days later and we went for a drink. Maybe it just became a continue with another person in 2004. And we get what we look for, based on the assumptions we have, prejudice can become racism in action.

But did I want my ex to go after me in 2010? No, I didn’t. And how extremely upsetting it was to hear his black friends wanting us to be together, when I regretted it in the first place because I was never in love with him, but wanted to be nice and give it a chance in 2005 after we met in 2004, just like I was nice in 2010 and went on a date with him again. But, maybe I need to become a bitch to get my no across?

That however, doesn’t exclude my compassion and human support. He told me early on that he didn’t want to hold my hand in public in Honolulu, or even walk close next to me, because then he could be arrested by the cops. For nothing. And I could never understand that since it’s “a black thing”. Other terrible experiences include an “encouraged” vasectomy when he was drafted. And as terrible it was to learn about that, and of his deployment and PTSD, do I want to deal with any of it?

No, I don’t.

I want to love, live and hold hands without having to care about anything more than my own feelings, and the guy’s that I have by my side.

I have grown up with a bestie in Swedish daycare, who is a mulatto. I have danced African dance and I have had a British black Modern dance teacher. I know another American black guy from NYC who is gay and lives in Sweden, and an adopted black Swedish Muslim black guy in Sweden through the advertising industry, and a black guy from Canada in my Bible study group whose financial assistance helped me survive 2019, just like an American Muslim black guy did in 2011 in Hawaii, besides a black woman from Alabama who preached the Bible in Honolulu together with her grits 24/7 in 2010, and another black woman who survived 9/11 in NYC in 2005 sharing her story, friends with my ex. Do I need to keep account?

Can we not just dance and let all our lives matter?

Second photo from the anti-racism campaign in the 1980’s, meaning: “Don’t touch my friend.”

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