Black men dating ethiopian women
Black men dating ethiopian women
defines the word “exotic” as “strikingly, excitingly, or mysteriously different or unusual.” The street usage, however, is varied and oftentimes inaccurate.
Moses, a Jew, apparently married a black African and was approved by God.
After being in Ethiopia for about a week and going into the city several times with my host brother, he offered to show me the nightlife of Addis.
He explained that he, his sister and I would drive into the city, meet up with their friends, and check out some bars and dance clubs.
There, amid failed advances, he proposed marriage and explained that even though I might not want to marry him, it was clearly God’s will.
This was a small hiccup in an otherwise amazing month in Ethiopia, but it did teach me two things: don’t be as trusting of Ethiopian men as I was and keep your intimidating male friends with you when you travel in Ethiopia.
And it makes the relationships between women all the more difficult at times, doesn’t it? Again, if you aren’t exposed to the information you need to get past these issues, it’s hard to imagine how you would. Well, we aren’t the architects of our own pathology, as the ever-brilliant Esther Armah once quipped. Once someone has the information available to help them to question their preference or bias and they still don’t see an issue with said preference, perhaps, then, there is more room to criticize. In an era where representations of Black beauty in the media are more diverse than in the past—yet still skew toward certain aesthetics—how do we collectively even out the playing field regarding the ways in which we judge beauty?
Once I was made aware of the fact that Ethiopian women were fetishized by a number of African-American brothers (in particular, those who weren’t so excited by Black women who aren’t considered “exotic” or who wouldn’t go for an African sister who had darker skin and kinkier hair), I experienced a period of resentment toward them. I know that preference doesn’t always have deep roots, but I do know that certain hair textures and facial features (typically, those that are associated with European beauty ideals) get an inordinate amount of props from some of our people. Where do we find the space to teach ourselves not to make one sister “regular” and the other “exotic”—and to abandon the tendency to fetishize the mixed woman over the non-mixed one, or the East African stunner over the West African honey?We decided that for the first two weeks, I would stay with a host family in Addis Ababa and volunteer at a local school while my friends visited family in Gambella.Then we would meet up and travel around the country for the last two weeks of our stay.Once, while walking through the streets, a boy sitting outside his house sang a line from a popular Rihanna song, “Oh na na, what’s your name? Those were probably some of the few English words he knew.Heads turned everywhere I went, to the point where one of my friends reminded me later, “You better enjoy this now because you know it won’t be the same once we go back to the States.” Though there were six people in my host family, my host brother was the one I ended up spending the most time with since he spoke much better English than anyone else and was the only one with a car to drive into the city.I was already halfway out the door and didn’t think anything of it, and my host brother and I got into the car and headed for the city.