Honey-Colored

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“African Bees Like Honey” by austinevan is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Rule #4 - If going on a blind date, be suspicious if a black woman describes herself as “honey-colored.” And by all means, be specific about your appearance to avoid confusion or misunderstanding.

Back in the summer of 1995, I was full-fledged into my Afrocentric phase and wanted to date a black woman. Scouring the classified section of the Village Voice newspaper, I came across an ad that read: “Single African-American female, medium height, honey-colored, looking for African-American man for casual relationship, friends first, but could lead to romance.” I contacted her, and we chatted briefly. She asked me about my appearance, and I described myself as tall, brown-skinned (I had a summer tan), with hazel eyes. So far, so good, until we met in person.

For starters, she was not medium height but short—no big deal. Immediately, my presence startled her. “You’re not brown-skinned; you're damn near white,” she said. Man, that hurt. So, I told her, “Taneesha, you’re not exactly what I...” Before I could finish, she hiked up her skirt, thrust out her left thigh, and said, “See, honey-colored!” Perhaps she was referring to the darker honey varietals, such as Manuka or Chestnut, or maybe I needed to have my eyes examined because her skin wasn’t even close to honey-colored. This woman was black, jet black, blacker than a black velvet petunia; so black, all I could see were the whites of her eyes and the grimace from her flawless white teeth.

We entered the restaurant and ordered drinks. An uncomfortable silence lingered between us while she glanced up at me several times over her menu with a look of disdain. And then, out of nowhere, she said, “So, what are you going to order, clams on the half shell? Aint that what white people eat?” This was turning into the date from hell.

Fortunately, I was rescued by someone she knew. I’d forgotten his name, Gregory, something, and just like her, he was a dark-skinned black. Taneesha's demeanor changed dramatically. Her frown lifted into a gaping grin, her eyes sparkled, and she asked Gregory to join us. He hesitated for a moment, but I insisted. We shook hands. Now was my opportunity to exit this situation without causing a scene. I took a last swig of my beer and said, “Whoa, look at the time; nice meeting you both, but I gotta run.”

And I ran. I ran away from black women until I met my beautiful wife, who didn’t have a problem with my color, nor I hers, and we’ve been happily married for 25 years.

Nowadays, with the advancement of smartphones and social media, biracial men don’t have to worry about meeting a woman sight unseen. However, straight, biracial men need to remember that the Tanneshas of America will always choose the dark-skinned male first.