Essays, poems and Stories of an African-American

Thursday, 28 April 2016

Love (well....) so much missed; Interrogating my masculinity

                           Nicole met me at the Bernal Heights Park in San Francisco CA and we instantly synched. She asked me out but I first declined, politely. After all, where I come from it is a man, who asks a woman out. But, then again, I consider myself a liberal. We continued meeting, we started having pecks and touches (simply hand holding. Don't get silly ideas. This is America. Loose hands may be mistaken for assault and around here women are powerful litigants). Ask me about Nicole. A white girl who is from Edgartown MA but came to do her University in San Francisco. She is fluent in Italian, Spanish, French and German as well as English. She plays the guitar and she wears high strapping leather boots with those very minimal shorts. One day, I remarked if she was chased out of her house by a fire. "Duh!" Was the best reply I got out of her. Fast forward, we smooched, hugged, romped and said sweet goodbyes to each other. She went to Europe for the summer, their families are spread all over. A distant great aunt in UK; a distant great uncle in France; a cousin in Italy; and sisters and brothers to great granny in Germany or something like that. But, she went to Europe as far as i'm concerned and when she came back we were platonic. We still talk about so many things, especially Massachusetts since I spent two years there and travelled extensively around that part of New England.

I love women. Women rock!

                                She then offloaded me over to LaDiamond (Ladee). They are both buddies from Junior High and to them it was normal to share me between them. Hahahahahahaha! So, Ladee proposed that we should change positions. Positions. I hadn't got the meaning until....... Anyway, fast forward. We disagreed on so many things and most especially, on the subject of my 'people selling her people to the white slave massa.' She is a History and Communication major with a minor in literature. I used to present my best arguments basing my premise on the prevailing global forces of the time. As well as positing the fact that the Industrial Revolution had a gargantuan juggernaut so thirsty that Africa alone could quench it. The spears and skin shields were no match to the Matchlocks, killing machines and subsequent subjugation of Africa. She never expected this diatribe. All the while, I spent with her she had figured me as a simpleton. I once told her that in my culture we had a saying: 'the slackness of a chain is its strength.' She still believes that 'rumble, rumble, rumble is show of strength.' We still see each other but, I never switched positions to this day! Oh, I miss a kind of loving!

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