Naamloos

Yes, I’m white.

And yes — I prefer Black men. So what?!

Especially African men: dark, intense, with thick black lips and a presence that commands.

They are more beautiful than any pale blue-eyed boy society ever tried to force down our throats.

I don’t owe anyone an explanation for my desire.

This isn’t fetish.

It’s called freedom.

It’s my body choosing what makes me burn,

whether it’s to love and build a family — or to enjoy one wild night with no strings.

Because pleasure is a right. And my desire doesn’t need your approval.

They tried to stop us with racist laws, with shame, with fear.

But this is the 21st century.

I’m a free white woman.

Free to love, to moan, to surrender,

to kiss an African immigrant’s black lips in broad daylight —

and if anyone’s bothered, I’ll kiss him again, deeper, right in front of you.

Because love has no color —

but my desire does.

And it’s dark like ebony.