Posted in Relationships

Everybody’s​ a Vilain

As much as I like to reflect upon my love life and always see myself as the innocent princess, that overcame heartbreak, but that’s not completely true. 

My college years have definitely been eventful and left a couple of broken-hearted casualties along the way. I remember my freshman year after I accepted the internship with the US Coast Guard, I needed to get in shape ASAP. I ended up getting this guy I always saw working out around campus to help whip me into shape. 

Honestly, I was just being myself and was super surprised when I found out he liked me. Unfortunately, my motto was too just go with the flow, but that’s a terrible mentality when it comes to dating. It wasn’t until maybe two weeks in, I realized I needed to end this “relationship”  because honestly, it was only one-sided.  While I was still living a single lifestyle, he was falling for me deeper. 

Trying not to hurt his feelings, and postpone the breakup only made things worst. So, like a coward one morning I broke up with him over text, and gave the worlds most cliche excuse “it’s not you, it’s me”. We ran to each other at a party the following weekend, and he confronted me asking what can he do to make things better. I don’t really remember the conversation, but I do remember the hurt in his eyes. That moment I knew, I’ll always be the villain in his story.

Honesty, everyone is the villain in someone’s story, we’re all humans and make mistakes. I just try to improve upon myself. If he does happen to ever read this, I am sorry, and was just immature and wasn’t used to male attention. 

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

British Love Story

Let me tell y’all about this man I met at the mall; the poor soul was struggling attempting to buy clothes and asked for my opinion. As a shopaholic, I was more than happy to help him pick out some new clothes, plus I thought he was really cute. He was definitely my ideal type, a chocolate nerd. After we did a little bit of shopping he asked me if I wanted to get something to eat. We went to a Mexican restaurant, which I don’t recommend in England.

Regardless of the food, the conversation just flowed so naturally between us, and we talked about almost everything. At this point in time, I did not have a romantic interest in him, I was just excited about making a British friend. I knew I would eventually be coming home, and did not want to continue my terrible pattern of starting a relationship, knowing it’ll eventually turn long distance.

We were always blunt with each other, and he expressed his distaste for long-distance relationships and broke down the male to female ratio of the world, and he won’t be pressed over any woman. At that moment I knew it was going to be a beautiful friendship, two logical souls who weren’t going to get emotionally attached. 

As the summer progressed, we started spending pretty much every day with each other. I felt like I was with someone I knew my whole life, completely comfortable around him. We both shared a dry, sarcastic, and corny sense humor, which honestly described our relationship. 

Eventually, of course, we developed feelings for each other, and on several different occasions, he tried to get me to confess my feelings. I could never find the words to let him know, that I love and was going to miss him. He became my best friend, and there’s no way I could have adequately expressed how I felt. I knew I was leaving, but deep down there was a part of me that didn’t want to leave him.

He is definitely one of a kind and I wish there were more men like him out in the world. Saying goodbye was difficult, I cried my eyes out when the plane was taking off. As hard as it was to leave a beautiful relationship in England, I know it was the best decision. I’d rather treasure the memories and let go; than to hold on and ruin the relationship. Who knows what the future has in store? 

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

Will I Ever Learn?

In this dating game, we often like to blame the other player when the outcome is not as desired. We may recognize our mistakes after self-reflecting, but then often times end up in the same situation with another person. I know for me, I sometimes set myself up for failure.

At a friend’s birthday celebration, a couple of years ago, one of my classmates admits to me he has had a crush on me for a while. He claims I always ignored him or looked evil every time he tried to talk to me. I thought he was a nice guy and cute, so I thought to myself, why not what’s the worst that can happen.

Some background knowledge about the guy, he was moving to the other side of the country for an internship and graduate school a week after his confessed admiration for me. So, I already set my mind to keep my guards up and never actually get attached or really let him in.

At first, that worked out perfectly, all of our conversations were pretty superficial, and we both were clearly guarded and unbothered by it. I honestly do not recall, when that began to change, and we started to let each other in. The more I got to know him, the more I became attached, and developed deeper feelings for him.

I don’t think I ever showed him my developing feelings, because I knew better than to get attached to a man on the other side of the country, after I recently got burned from a similar situation. Although I knew better, I couldn’t help it, and secretly wished things would turn out in my favor. We began to go get into petty arguments, and I had several failed attempts to cut him off. The sad truth was I really liked him and could see a future with him, but that was a fantasy, that I knew wouldn’t happen.

At the end of the day, he ends up dating someone closer to him, and initially I was hurt, but I got over it. I realized I have a pattern of picking guys, who for one reason or another aren’t completely available to me. Possibly a sign of my commitment issues, or just a freaky coincidence. Either way, I do think everyone plays a part in why we often end up disappointed in this dating game.

Posted in Afro Muslimah's Love Stories

Dating as a Black Muslimah

I consider myself to be extremely blessed, growing up in a two-parent middle-class home; living with an example of black love and excellence. My mother was married and pregnant with my older brother at my age. I’m sure she looks at me confused, why I’m still single and my idea of a romantic night, is with Netflix, tacos, and of course a bottle of wine. I sometimes think my mom was blessed and escaped all the trials and tribulations of the dating world, especially dating as a black woman.
I often feel like in many aspects of my life I am fighting this war to prove my worth, and succeeding, except when it comes to my love life. My favorite genre to read and watch is Romantic Comedies; I love a beautiful love story. Somehow this hopeless romantic has given up on her own love story. I’m not bitter or an angry black woman, I’m just disappointed.
My parents worked so hard to build up my self-esteem and ensuring I know how valuable I am. It wasn’t until I entered the world when I understood why. Each day there is a subtle reminder, that as a black woman, I’m not good enough. I can’t help but notice that on social media, men glorify every race of women, expect black; admiring all hair textures, except for tight coils. Men seem to love our full lips, curvy shapes, and soulful eyes on everyone, except for black women. I have had a very ethnically diverse upbringing.
I grew up in a Muslim household and had a multicultural experience. At first glance, most people wouldn’t think I am Muslim, and to be fair I don’t always conduct myself in the most Islamic way. When it comes to dating, I’ve had the pleasure of dating three different variations of myself, and each one attracted a different kind of man.
As a hijabi, I suppose there was some type of mystery about me. People assumed I wasn’t Black American, and curious to know about my background. Often the negative image of Muslims in the media kept suitors away. For the others, who pursued me, I placed them in two categories. The first were the ones, who assumed I wasn’t black, and showed their disappointment and disinterest when they discovered the truth. The second were the ones who accepted me and still were interested in dating a black woman. Unfortunately, to my dismay, they always said something to ruin it for themselves. My top deal-breaker lines were, you’re pretty for a black girl, I can tell you have “good hair” under your scarf, and you’re not black, you are Muslim too, so that makes you special. Honestly, hearing those remarks from nonblack men never affected me, but hearing them from black men was disappointing. Although none of them said it, it was obvious being just black wasn’t good enough to deserve their love and affection.
When I decided to come out of hijab, I knew I was ready for a drastic change. I cut and dyed my hair. I left my hair in its the natural kinky state and wanted to announce to the world, yes, I am a Black Woman, and proud of my roots. With this new attitude and style, I noticed I was attracting different types of men. The majority were black men, who loved and wanted to be with a black queen. Everything they did was to express how woke they were, including dating a natural black woman. I often felt that they were more interested in the idea of me than reality. A lot of assumptions are made about black women, with something as simple as hair. Wearing my natural hair, people assumed I was this woke young college student ready to start a revolution. Honestly, I just happen to love my natural hair and wasn’t interested in being a part of any movement. Unfortunately, the young black kings I was talking to never took the time to learn that about me. Instead tried to use me as an accessory piece to their woke persona.
Although I remained with my natural hair, I often decided to straighten my hair or wear a weave. Of course with a less natural look, I once again attracted another type of guy. I do not know exactly how to categorize these men, but I noticed a pattern of similarities. They always spoke about how much they love natural beauty and told me I looked better with my natural texture and without any makeup, but I received the most compliments from them with makeup on and my hair straightened. Honestly, I don’t think they’re even aware of their hypocrisy, but at the end of the day, I knew they weren’t the men for me.
As I stated earlier, I love a good love story and fairytale, and one of my favorites is Princess and the Frog. I like to consider all of my past and failed suitors to be frogs, and I still haven’t found my prince. My prince charming is someone, who loves and appreciates all three variations of Kareema because those three strong sides make a perfect whole. Reflecting on my dating life, I’ve noticed that men or just people in general already have a definition or box they place black women in and expect us to fit this small definition. So, to answer your question, what it’s like to date as a black woman, it is an emotional roller coaster. Unfortunately, too many of us have similar experiences, and the only thing we have in common is our skin color. In a variation of a quote from Forest Gump, but truly black women are like a box of chocolate and you’ll never know what you’ll get, please stop treating us all the same. As for me, I’m going to continue and enjoy this bumpy ride, until I find my prince.