The 'Preference' Game
We all have that story. The first time a guy told us that we weren’t his ‘type’. Messages sent on your app of choice, photos unlocked, and assuming that the worst response was no response. But my foolish heart sunk into the pit of my stomach when I read, “Sorry, I only mess with lightskins”. I was young, dumb, and -- yeah. But I saw these conversations as first dates. And whatever the result, it was like waiting for that call back the next day that would never come. Looking back now, it feels silly.
The next time I dealt with this situation was actually with someone that I still call a friend to this day. We began with harmless flirting, but ended up ‘talking’ on a more serious basis. I was used to him complimenting me, and saying how cute I was. But one day, he took it a step further. I remember being on Facetime, gazing into the face of this gorgeous guy that I never would have dreamed I would be able to catch the attention of. We were having a normal conversation, when he decided to let me in on a little secret – “You know I’m only really into lightskins. There’s just something about them. But you’re really cute for a brownskin.”
At the time I was young — a freshman in college, and just beginning to become comfortable dating. There was still a sense of shock when guys would approach me. This odd ‘complement’ was coming from someone that I considered out of my league – he was masculine, with light eyes, tattoos, and the picture perfect definition of the ‘trade’. I was flattered. Being the exception to his rules felt grand. But over time, as we grew out of our romantic relationship, this statement coming from my friend was uncomfortable. I didn’t like the look in his eyes as he praised his exes like gold plated idols, while I still felt like the rose that grew from the concrete. And the sting of comments like these became unbearable, especially as I grew more confident in my skin.
Being gay and black comes with a lot of hardships, but being told you’re undateable by other gay black men will never stop making you feel shitty. It took me a very long time to take pride in the lovely shade of brown that I am. And at this point in life, entertaining men that go on and on about their preferences feels like an insult to myself and that growth.
Recently, I’ve been reading THICK by sociology professor Tressie McMillan Cottom. Though this collection of essays centers around black women and body image, when she delves into the topic of preference I see the parallel to those found in the black queer community. “There aren’t any ‘good’ preferences. There are only preferences that are validated by others, differently, based on social contexts.” She goes even further by calling the commonly heard notion that “I just like what I like” a “capitalist lie”.
We often hate critiquing things like preferences, because many of us are actively complicit in the practice. I still hear gay men talking about ‘good hair’, and being able to garner 10,000 followers on Instagram from simply being an average looking light-skinned man. Unfortunately, we live in an age where while being proud of our melanin, and beginning conversations on the effects of white supremacy on our daily life – many gay men stop at acknowledging their own harmful preferences. Admitting that there’s something structurally oppressive about your dating habits, and even the folks you choose to associate with is uncomfortable. No one is asking you to abandon your friends, or break up with your significant other. But colorism and privilege are very real — and, no, reverse colorism doesn’t exist.
Desirability is a factor in our own personal lives and the representation we see concerning queer black folks in media. Those who are muscled, lighter, and more 'palatable' will always be placed at the forefront. And that is something to be critiqued. Even in the relationships we see, there will always be at least one partner who can pass the paper bag test (and oftentimes they are white).
These things are not bound to go away in the next few weeks, months, or years. But if we put in the work, maybe one day we won’t have to suffer through a parade of beige in every queer film, or flooding those “sexy black guys” Instagram pages. ‘Light-skinned’ will no longer be classified as a personality straight, and your value will no longer be determined by the hue of your skin.
