R-O is the sun and the rain that makes my life a foolish game of falling for him, again and again. Whoa oh / woah Oh / woah Oh, yeah, yeah, eh yeah. Since the 80s—that’s right, the 80s—I’ve been stumbling over the same type of guy, again and again. Whoa oh! It’s happened twice now. Two times I’ve come across a man that I loved, sight unseen, whose name begins with the letters R-O, and something about R-Os, really cute, really together, Black men that have this one thing in common makes me foolish. It’s silly, really. I see R-O, and instantly, I’ve got so much love.
All I want is to hold you.
Let me show how much I love you, baby (Show you)
I don’t mind, and I don’t mind (Loving you)
Boy, I love you,
There’s no one,
above you!
And what’s real is that I can’t seem to shake my love for R-O regardless of what I know about him.
I may be quick to fall for him, but R-O isn’t easily figured out. He’s typical, but also a dream catcher, a winner, a risk taker, and a man who would never sling Crack to the people to bring his dream to fruition. Or if he did, he found a way out and never looked back. He’s a shot caller fueled by the ambitions of honest entrepreneurs, and impassioned by the desire to provide a better-than-better life for the woman he loves and his, his and hers, or her children. He’s a benevolent and beloved leader, compassionate, and not mentally or physically violent. He’s the soul shaker. The wife(y) maker. He’s Fine. So damn fine.
Of course he is. I’m writing this. I always date or fall for fine-ass men with only one not-so-cute guy among the bones in my closet. It’s been noted that this is true. The first time I fell for R-O, I was a sophomore in high school. He was a senior and a star athlete, black with a Gumby cut, and always holding up the wall in before-sagging-was-popular-jeans, a fresh tee, and his letter jacket looking like rain in Louisiana summer heat. The second time I took a tumble over R-O, I never saw him out of his sweaty gym attire. That’s okay, though. He gets a pass for being bald-headed. he didn’t have locs, straight backs, eight-year-old-little-girl-esque relaxed or hot combed ponytails, and certainly no Christina Milian curls. His fine ass also wasn’t rocking any facial hair. R-O has it going on. Even in his work clothes, working up a sweat, he looks good.
It’s to be Expected
Actually, I’m not a fan of men posing in pools of sweat on social media. And maybe R-O, the personal trainer, doesn’t have any style, for certain, though, he has a good body. My undoing? A hint of something magical in the tone of his voice, which speaks to his integrity and essence, has the power to send me over the edge. I can tell by the quality of his voice how he treats the woman he loves. The thing is, R-O only dates redbones. As much as I love R-O and dub him perfect, good-looking, educated, employed, capable of love, responsible and accountable, and inherently possessive of the charm we call swag, these qualities make him unattainable for me because partnering with a whiter woman is a critical part of his come-up, and, plainly, that’s what he likes, redbones.
Yes, as some of you might have expected, R-O is a colorist. That is the primary, defining characteristic of R-O: he only chases and wifes redbones (henceforth, referred to as Kim, AKA Light Skin, Mixed Chick, Art, and Curly Girl only). And the last infers a major reason R-O doesn’t want me and wants Kim instead. Oh girl, I know you know / the way I feel, but let me break it down some more. Hair. I think R-O’s reason for preferring redbones, deep down, is as simple as that. It’s curls versus coils, and I, personally, am low on the totem pole.
It Always Comes Down to Our Hair
I’m convinced the main reason R-O doesn’t want me is that Yaki braiding hair and slayed edges don’t usually sway old, White male partners in a law firm. Likewise, too-tight, too-shrunken coils just don’t make it easy to get checks from White investors at a networking event. Besides, R-O doesn’t like Yaki hair and slayed slash slicked-down edges that depend on Shine ‘n Jam. I don’t want to offend anyone, but I gotta be real. R-O doesn’t entertain 4C chicks. That’s why I wish my 4C kinks were instead easy like Sunday morning 3A curls.
R-O says it’s more than hair that makes him choose Kim over me, over us. He’s got plenty of reasons, and these days those reasons apply to all non-biracial African American women. So, I’ll never get my chance with him. But you know, I don’t think I can ever, in all sincerity, dismiss my love for R-O.
And needing you so,
My Love for you,
I’ll never let go!
I got so much love.
Besides R-O’s discrimination against dark-skinned girls, he’s everything a girl could want. I’m speaking more of the personal trainer than the high-school quarterback when I say that, but anyway, what is wrong with me? Would I sacrifice a couple of forevers with a man who would love me if only I’d stop falling for R-O? Do I really want to be that martyr? I wonder, all the time, if I can change R-O. If there’s something, anything, that would make him see me differently.
Tell me how to love you, baby
I don’t mind, and I don’t mind.
Boy, I love you.
There’s no one above you!
But there it is. That which stands between us. My complexion. My dark complexion (and my accompanying 4C hair) is what makes R-O just an obsession and unavailable to me. We know there are a respectable number of Black men who say they don’t discriminate against dark-skinned women, but R-O will tell you point-blank that he only dates Kims. He doesn’t even know we exist because he cannot see Crayola-crayon-original-brown and darker shades. I’ve personally tried every trick I’ve learned: sex, sexts, songs, pink, but no matter how hard I try, I’m as invisible as space, black.
There are times when a dark-skinned girl catches R-O’s eye, but no matter how exquisite her charms are, he will not wife her. When it comes to choosing his mate, only Kim will do. A dark-skinned girl can be his homie, just one of the guys, lovable—his “lover,” and his friend—the woman who lovingly holds his head in her lap while listening to him pine for Kim when she leaves him. Sure to take her back, though, it’s Kim, who will bring him to one knee.
He’s Not Necessarily into White Women
Unlike African-descended American Black men who strictly date outside of their race, R-O’s women don’t have to be White. He’s not against a completely White wife. Spicy, so they say, Hispanic women are his fantasy. And his White Curiosity doesn’t stop at Latinas. R-O fantasizes about the only woman he believes will let him lead and who will remove his shoes for him at the end of his day every day, regardless of what she has endured, and she’s Asian.
Whatever his tastes or the individual characteristics he seeks, R-O will only walk into a room with a whiter girl, Kim on his arm. Not even a chocolate puff piece like Godiva is presentable enough for a social with his Divine Nine friends. Yep! Basically, R-O thinks I’m a “jigga what?” A “jiggaboo.” How he loves his Gamma Rays with their fair skin, silky, loose, curly hair, and fake blue eyes. No matter, though. If I could go back to my school days, I doubt I’d change one thing. And I’d do it all again and again.
Whoa oh / Whoa oh…
As sad as that is, I’ve got so much love for R-O.
Only You, oh, yeah (know me)
Tell me how to love you, baby (show me)
I don’t mind, and I don’t mind (tell me)
Boy, I love you,
Always thinking of you!
R-O’s discrimination doesn’t stop me from wanting him. All in all, I think R-O is “a fine, proud, surviving, splendid Black man!” Just like Marcee thought of Rod in Jerry Maguire. And he is, or he would be, if he weren’t so damned typical. If only I could restore his vision to the time when I was his queen, when he, not only I, believed in our shared destiny, two black bodies, one divine path. Slash. The days before light was right. Slash that. Before, a fairer Black woman with silky hair and very light almond skin was put before him as an ideal, and he perpetuated colorism by accepting her, sight unseen, over me. Before he drafted his preferences.
The Almighty Preferences
R-O and the reasons he says he prefers lighter, whiter, or White women are what this blog series is all about. Mainly, because I love him and have been unable to stop loving him. It doesn’t matter that he can’t appreciate my dark skin, which is often a similar hue to his. Sometimes I’m lighter. And it doesn’t matter that he consciously chooses women who he thinks look nothing like me. It doesn’t even matter that he doesn’t, these days, find me worthy of any love. I keep falling for and choosing R-O. I know his preferences, and still, I think he’s so damn cute, so damn fine, and so damn together that I constantly deceive myself into believing there is something about me that will be different from every other dark-skinned girl he abhors. Do I believe I can cure R-O? Maybe I just don’t believe his reasons. They’re the same old tired explanations today that they were in the 80s. None of them has changed. It’s the same s*** (just a) different day.
Some of us are enlightened and thus have moved on enough to snag even Asians. You know the belief that whiter is more beautiful is fundamental in Asian culture. But the world is changing, and even though colorism profoundly persists in the Black community, there are those of us who are finding love beyond R-O. I would do the same if I were still looking for love and if I could move on too. In my case, though, I can’t achieve what they call closure until I debunk, utterly understand, or accept R-O’s reasons. Thus, I’m laying out all his reasons for not loving me back, and hopefully, I’ll get over him.
Because I’m truly,
truly in love with you, Boy.
I’m truly
head over heels with your love.
I need you-ooh-ooh-ooh,
and with your love I’m free.
And truly,
you know you’re alright
wii-ith me-ee.
Liner Notes
This essay quotes or references the following artists and writers who shaped my thinking: Lionel Richie • Heather Headley • Chrisette Michele • Tyla • Cameron Crowe • Spike Lee
by Nijaeri
Why Don't You See Me? 