When I was a little girl, I loved chocolate. There are countless photos of me with it all over my face. I didn’t just love the taste of chocolate; I loved its deep, rich color, too, and as a result I loved black people. I was, I am told, beside myself that I was so pasty and white, and wished to have dark skin.
One day, my mother and I were on the bus and I was seated next to a young African-American boy with very dark brown skin. I stared at him reverently, as he, I imagine, shifted slowly away from the crazy-eyed white girl. And then, unable to contain myself, I spoke.
“I love chocolate.”
I pretty much realized Martin Luther King’s dream right there on the M4.
Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!
"as he, I imagine, shifted slowly away from the crazy-eyed white girl"
ReplyDeleteTHIS is hilarity.
Mostly because it's most men's reaction to my apparently belligerent flirting style.