When I finally came out in college, I was at a predominantly white school.Many queer folks were closeted, and of the few who were out, most of them were white.I’ve received messages that said, "I love BBC," or "I never been with a Black guy before," or, on the opposite end of the "no Blacks" spectrum, I've seen white men who are "not into white guys, sorry."When I'm dating a white man, I occasionally feel like I need to confront the issue of race head-on and acknowledge the difference in life experiences between me and my partner.It can be frustrating, but also deeply enriching, to teach someone about my cultural upbringing.After graduating, I moved to New York, and though here I was able to find queer friends who are also people of colour, we are still always in the minority at gay bars and clubs.A friend of mine, who is Latino, once asked why I didn't approach Black men in bars.Statements like "no fats or fems" or "no Blacks or Asians" litter profiles in hookup communities on Grindr, Jack'd, and similar platforms.
He questioned why Black men in particular want so desperately to be acknowledged as desirable by white men who have no interest in dating outside their race.
As a dark-skinned Black man, I have faced both overt and subtle instances of racism from white gay men.
The ways in which I have been objectified and fetishised by them has often made me feel that I’m only good enough for sex and not for a relationship.
While I may flirt or develop friendships with other Black gay men, I’ve never seriously pursued a relationship with one.
When I’m on Tinder, the men I’m more likely to swipe right are usually athletic white men between 21 and 30.