Black gay online dating
My childhood in the Black church led me to believe that Black people were inherently homophobic — a myth — and that the only Black men who were gay were on the down low or infected with HIV — also a myth.
When I finally came out in college, I was at a predominantly white school.
Many queer folks were closeted, and of the few who were out, most of them were white.
After graduating, I moved to New York, and though here I was able to find queer friends who are also people of color, we are still always in the minority at gay bars and clubs.
I’m quickly approaching my 25th birthday and have come to the realization that I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. That's not uncommon among millennials, but as a Black gay man, I've begun to wonder how my race has affected my chances of finding love.
I like to think of myself as someone who’s adventurous when it comes to love and sex, someone who’d never rule out potential partners or new experiences.
But when I discussed my issue with friends, other queer men of color, they all said I have a type: white men.
I tried to deny it, but when I thought about my dating history, I realized that my friends were right.
While I may flirt or develop friendships with other Black gay men, I’ve never seriously pursued a relationship with one.
When I’m on Tinder, the men I’m more likely to swipe right are usually athletic white men between 21 and 30.
And when I scroll through Grindr’s grid of faceless torsos, I find myself only messaging guys with complexions lighter than a paper bag.
Even in person, when I’m trying to muster up the courage to talk to a cute guy, I first wonder if he’s "into black guys." I hate myself for even having to contemplate these things, and I’m now left asking myself: And the more I think about it, the more complicated the answer seems. The only gay people I saw in the media were white, and the few Black queer celebrities that I knew of, like Wanda Sykes and Michael Sam, were in interracial relationships.