A Black Love Chronicle

Sex and drama. We usually try to avoid having too much of both because it can be had for one's health. I honestly don't know what I would do without them, though. The name is Damon Louverture. A tall and ruggedly handsome young Black man living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. These days, I'm taking up Business administration at Carleton University.

Ottawa is the most boring City in the Western Hemisphere. Inhabited by zombie-like Government drones, self-absorbed and deeply xenophobic Euro-trash, constantly feuding ethnic minorities such as Africans, Arabs and Asians along with bigoted losers of all stripes. You might wonder what a Boston-born Haitian-American guy like myself is doing out here in the first place. For a Black guy from Urban America, Ottawa is quite a strange world. However, I am learning to adjust.

Education, that's the only reason why I ever set foot in Canada, folks. Actually, I'm not being completely honest. I'm here because of a woman. Three women, to be exact. Long story. Starts something like this. I was studying at Bay State University in Boston when my world got turned upside down. My best friend Josiah Xavier got mixed up with the wrong people. I've known Josiah since we were pupils at Brockton Community High School. You wouldn't think we'd be friends. He's a Football star and I am a nerd. However, we're both Haitian and we're like brothers. We graduated together and went to Bay State University together. Him on a Football scholarship and me on an academic scholarship.

Josiah has always been a wild, outgoing guy. He got involved with this Italian-American chick named Brigit Florentino and her family members weren't exactly thrilled about it. Josiah is one of those brothers who exclusively chase White chicks. I don't know what he saw in that Brigit chick, to tell you the truth. She was kind of short and average-looking, with an average face, no chest and no ass. However, to him she seemed like a goddess. Folks, the only women who seem like goddesses in my eyes are Black women. That's why I've got a life-sized picture of Tennis superstar Serena Williams in my apartment. I like them tall, thick, bootylicious, Black and stacked. The Black Goddess is my Standard of Beauty.

Anyhow, Josiah and Brigit had their thing and the whole campus was a bit abuzz about it. Bay State University is a fairly nice and diverse school. There are lots of Hispanic, African-American and Asian students on campus. However, some people have always been and will always be miffed about interracial relationships. I thought Josiah knew this. We were starting High School when some White chick falsely accused NBA superstar Kobe Bryant of sexually assaulting her.

She would later drop charges after receiving a lot of money from him. If that's not proof that her allegations were bogus, I don't know what is. A real victim of such a heinous crime would never take money from their victimizer. They would rather send them to hell. Proof positive that this chick was lying. That day I swore to myself that I would stick to my chocolate and never try vanilla. If you catch my drift.

Josiah didn't seem to learn anything from what happened to Kobe. He went out with this Irish chick named Siobhan throughout High School and the fact that her family didn't exactly approve didn't seem to bother him. At Bay State University, he continued with his habits. As for me, I was his best friend and his wingman. I loved the guy and I looked up to him. Of course, while he was going through his relationship with Brigit, I was going through some stuff of my very own.

I had a crush on this tall, beautiful young Black woman named Stacey Winston. She was a true Black American Princess. Leader of the Bay State University Varsity Cheerleading Squad, even though she was one of only three Black girls on the Squad. Stacey was also the undisputed Queen of the social scene at Bay State University. The kind of sister who wouldn't even talk to a brother like me. Damn. Do I know how to pick them or what?

I had a couple of classes with Stacey, but that didn't make things any easier. She was going out with this guy named Titus Braxton. A tall, light-skinned brother with dreadlocks. Captain of the men's wrestling team at Bay State University. Our school was mostly female, with men making up only forty four percent of the eight-thousand-person student body. They were beefing up athletics in an effort to attract male students.

Thus we ended up with new teams such as men's baseball, men's volleyball, men's wrestling, men's soccer, men's track and field and men's swimming. Before, the school only had men's basketball, men's Football and men's cross country, along with women's softball, women's soccer, women's archery, women's swimming, women's field hockey, women's lacrosse, women's track and field, women's volleyball, women's equestrian and women's cross country. There were quite a few Jocks at Bay State University and they were getting all the girls. Just my luck.

Josiah Xavier encouraged me to man up and talk to Stacey Winston, the gal of my dreams. Well, I decided to do just that. One day, I approached her at the campus library and we had a nice chat. She wasn't what I expected. The gal wasn't just beautiful, she was wickedly smart and actually friendly. To my immense surprise she told me she used to live in Brockton and found Boston to be a bit stuffy. Well, that was cool. We sat there talking for over an hour, trading stories about life in the big City. Stacey and I came from backgrounds that weren't too dissimilar.

My father Boris Louverture moved to Boston from the City of Cap-Haitien, Republic of Haiti, while in his late teens. He studied at Suffolk University before joining the Massachusetts State Police. My mother Vanessa Claremont Louverture moved to the City of Miami, Florida, from the town of Port-De-Paix, Republic of Haiti, right after High School. After graduating from Miami-Dade College, she moved to Boston. These days, she's a Nurse at Mass General Hospital.

Stacey was a true B.A.P. Her roots in America ran deep. Her father Joel Winston was an authentic African-American. A proud officer of the Boston Police Department. Stacey's mother, former Supermodel turned TV reporter Jasmine Saint-Hillaire was half Haitian and half White. Together they produced the tall, exquisitely beautiful young Black woman I had a crush on. Wow. I was impressed. Stacey came from good stock. She further impressed me by speaking fluent Haitian Creole. Oh, and she told me she knew how to dance Kompa too. When I told her I'd love to see her dance, she simply got up and broke some moves right in front of me. I was amazed. The gal knew how to pop it, lock it and drop it! I was staring at her dreamily. Which is when her boyfriend Titus walked in.

Yep, Titus came in, with some of his wrestling team cronies with him. He was flanked by a tall, red-haired White guy with a buzz cut and a stocky Hispanic dude with a moustache. His eyes zeroed in on me and he walked right up to me. Upon seeing him approach, Stacey had a look on her face which could only be interpreted as a guilty look. Yeah, she was busted dancing in front of another man. She walked up to Titus, trying to explain herself but he told her to shut up. She looked hurt, and shook her head sadly but obeyed him. I bristled with anger. I'm not the toughest guy on the planet but I'll be damned if I'll let the lady I like get treated like that by some Jock.

I asked Titus if his mother taught him to treat young ladies that way. Upon hearing that, he got mad. And next thing I knew, Titus had me against the wall. Oh, and his buddies were helping him. One of them was restraining Stacey while the other was eyeing me coldly. All this was happening in a usually silent corner of the Bay State University library. I shoved Titus back, and that seemed to surprise him. I don't think people usually stand up to Mr. Jock. He drew back his fist, ready to slam it into my face. I braced myself, but the punch never came.

It never came because someone caught Titus fist. A very strong someone. My best friend Josiah. Yeah, my brother caught the wrestler's hand and twisted it. Titus yelped in pain. Before Titus cronies could react, Josiah punched one and kicked the other. Now all three bozos were howling in pain. Their screams thankfully didn't attract the librarian, an old White guy named Neil who wears a hearing aid. However, there were other people around. When one of them threatened to call the campus police, Titus and his buddies walked out of the library. And to my immense regret, Stacey left with them. She flashed me a look of sympathy before leaving with Titus. A look that just about killed me.

Josiah stayed with me, making sure I was alright. He really got on my case for not knowing how to fight. I'm six-foot-one and I weigh one hundred and eighty pounds soaking wet. I'm not a brawler. I'm a nerd. My glasses are thicker than Steve Urkel's. I was really thankful for Josiah's help but I felt awful. I looked like a punk in front of the gal I liked. If it hadn't been for my best friend, I'd be bleeding right now. Josiah and I left the library together. He had a date with that Brigit chick again. Normally I tease him for messing around with White women but after getting my ass kicked over a Black woman who didn't even like me, I didn't feel too strong.

Josiah kept telling me how he found the White girls easier to deal with and a lot more fun. I just shook my head and went back to my dorm. Girls in general seemed good for one thing, and that's getting guys in trouble. Didn't matter their color. Stacey wasn't into me. She made that clear by leaving with Titus even after he mistreated her right in front of me. I got hurt defending her honour and she left with the bad guy. Maybe girls are really genetically programmed to only like bad boys. Yet they're always whining that there are no good men around. Whatever. I went to bed, feeling like a dumbass.

After that fiasco in the library, I decided to focus on my academic work rather than other stuff, like girls. Bay State University's campus in Boston is full of pretty Black girls. They're a truly diverse bunch too. Lots of them are Haitian, Jamaican, Cape Verdean, Continental African and regular African-American.

Too bad none of the Black girls on campus seemed to notice that I existed. Black women are always claiming they can't find a good Black man. Well, I'm a good Black man. I'm a University student. I stay out of trouble. I have a job. I have my own place. I don't have any damn brats. Or psycho ex. I'm the hard-working, educated, law-abiding and decent Black man you never hear about. The one who sleeps alone because the sisters only give the booty to the bad boys of the Black community, and guys of other races. Or other women.

At my church, it was the same thing. I attended the Great Temple, as the Haitian Adventist Church of Brockton, Massachusetts, is aptly called. There were lots of pretty Black girls at my church. Haitian gals are my favourites because of our shared history and culture. Sadly, I was invisible to them too. In Boston, I got hit on by gay guys and chubby White women. Neither lit my fire. I needed me a Black woman. Accept no substitute. I was frustrated, folks. I became a regular at the nearby adult video store.

I purchased the DVDs of Jada Fire, Cherokee D'Ass, Janet Jacme, Chippy D, Candace Von, Menaja Trois, Midori, Skyy Black, Monique, and other famous Black female porn stars. Yeah, it was a sad and lonely period of my life. It's times like these that I get really mad at the men and women of my community. It's like there's an undeclared civil war between Black men and Black women. At the barber shop, I hear Black men bad-mouthing Black women and praising White women. When I pick up my mom at the hair salon, I hear Black women bad-mouthing Black men and praising men of other races. What the fuck? Pardon my French.

Why do Black women and Black men hate their own so much? I am a firm believer in the Black Love, folks. Black Love is beautiful and powerful. Look at Barack and Michelle Obama. Look at Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith. Look at Angela Bassett and her husband Courtney B. Vance. Look at Denzel Washington and his darling wife Pauletta Pearson. Black men and Black women can get together, stay together and achieve anything.

My parents have been married for almost three decades. They're still happy together. Of course, they're from another generation. In my generation, everyone's going interracial and the Black Love seems to be a thing of the past. The media loves to talk about how most Black women will die alone, how most Black men are in trouble with the law and how the Black family unit is destroyed. Well, we shouldn't listen to the media. They don't care about us. We should stick together.

Sometimes, I question myself, though. Of the eight thousand students at Bay State University's Boston campus, twenty one hundred and eighty six of us were Black. And Black women made up fifty four percent of that group. Most of the Black male students are not dating White women and Hispanic women. Most of the eligible Black male students on campus are single because we're not that eager to date outside the race and Black women on campus seem to hate our guts.

So eventually many of my brothers start dating outside because the sisters on campus are too angry to be seen as approachable. I think most Black women in America have a deep dislike of the Black male. A dislike that's starting to be reciprocated, judging by the interracial dating trend embraced by Black men. Black men and Black women in America are set against each other. Why must it always be this way?

Josiah was a proud symbol of that trend, and he didn't mind letting people know it. He and his girlfriend Brigit were really pushing it. The blonde-haired Italian barbie walked around with a T-shirt that said I Heart Black Men. And Josiah had one of those I Prefer Blondes T-shirts. It's amazing. So amazing. What in hell were they thinking? Wherever they went, White men and Black women gave them dirty looks. On campus, I think every Black woman hated Josiah's guts because he's a Black stud. One of the best NCAA Division One College Football players in New England and he only dates White women. I warned Josiah to be careful. A brother couldn't survive out there if both Black women and White men were gunning for him. Josiah, being his usual fearless self, didn't pay any mind to my warnings.

Sometimes, life is just too funny. Black women are all up in arms about the brother who doesn't want them, like my friend Josiah, and ignore the brother who worships them, me. I continued to excel in my classes. The absence of a personal life or a social life worked wonders for my academic performance. I was virtually the only Black male student on campus to make Dean's List every semester. I always reached a 4.0 GPA. My only real competitors were the Japanese guys and the White chicks. I left everyone else in the dust. I continued working hard and living my life. I had no idea my life was about to change.

Josiah had always been my hero, my rescuer and my defender. I didn't know that he'd soon need defending because of his many enemies. Titus and his wrestling team cronies hadn't forgotten the hurt he put on them at the library. And Brigit's conservative Italian-American family weren't happy about their favourite daughter flaunting her relationship with a Black College Football stud.

Josiah's picture-perfect world was headed for a crash. I could kind of see it coming but I had no idea how to stop it. I warned him to be careful. Every Black woman on campus referred to him as the 'White-washed brother'. The White guys weren't thrilled about his relationship with Brigit either. She wasn't that great-looking but she came from old money. Her grandfather Gino Florentino used to be in the Massachusetts State Senate.

All the White chicks on campus were gushing over Josiah. It's funny how they seem to like a Black man when he's on top and they're ultimately the ones trying to drag him down. Remember Shakespeare's Othello? Remember Kobe Bryant? Remember Tiger Woods? I set out to save Josiah from himself, and his enemies. In both respects, I was destined to fail miserably.

The end came unexpectedly. After Bay State University's big Football game against the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, Josiah went to celebrate with his pals in a fancy club in downtown Boston. As his best buddy, I went to celebrate with him. Brigit was there too. As expected. Also present was Brigit's older brother Gaetano Florentino, who ironically played Football for UMass-Amherst. He wasn't thrilled when his sister Brigit started dry grinding with Football stud Josiah on the dance floor in front of everybody. Also present was Titus, who got in the club because he pretended to be a member of the Football team.

I should also mention that both gentlemen had guns. The stage was set for a brutal, deadly confrontation. And so it went, in spite of my best efforts to stop it. Gaetano pulled a gun on Josiah before I could stop him. Brigit heroically or foolishly leapt in front of Josiah, and Titus sprayed everyone present with bullets. By some miracle, he only missed me. By the night's end, Gaetano was dead, Josiah was in critical condition, Brigit was paralyzed from the waist down and Titus was on the run from both the Boston Police Department and the Massachusetts State Police. He was shot and killed in a warehouse three days later.

Yeah, that's the way it went, folks. My best friend Josiah would make a full recovery, but his Football days were over. He went back to campus totally disgraced. Brigit's family were gunning for him because their favourite daughter was paralyzed and their favourite son was dead partly because of him. The Florentinos had a lot of wealth and power in New England. And they wanted to make Josiah pay. Thus ended my first year at Bay State University, folks.

The Florentino clan wanted to bring a world of pain to Josiah and anyone close to him. That list of unfortunate folks included me, his best friend. For this reason, I had to watch my back. My parents thought it would be best if I left Boston for a while. And I couldn't disagree. Josiah skipped town and didn't tell anyone where he was going. I wish him luck. I tried to warn him. He didn't listen. Look what happened to him.

Yeah, I had to stay out of Boston for a while. I would miss the City of my birth dearly. I also missed Stacey Winston. The gorgeous Black American Princess I loved but never had a chance with. However, partly because of her issues with Titus Braxton and partly because of Brigit Florentino's romance with Josiah, I had to leave town. See, I told you I left Boston for Ottawa because of two women. I packed my belongings and moved to Ottawa. My father's older brother, my uncle Raymond, lived in Ottawa with his wife and daughter. He offered me a place to stay. I transferred my credits from Bay State University in Boston, Massachusetts, to Carleton University in Ottawa, Ontario.

When I first arrived in Ottawa, I hated it. It's boring, stale and lily-White. However, I am learning to adjust. Being a Haitian-American in Ottawa is complicated, folks. I had to apply for a study permit before I could enrol at Carleton University. I also had to apply for a work permit before I could even look for work in the Confederation of Canada. The only place that offered my newcomer ass a job was a security company. Carleton University is charging me international student fees but it's still far less expensive than Boston's very own Bay State University, so thank God for small favors. Thanks are starting to happen for me out here. I finally got my Social Insurance Card and my Health Card in the mail, the perks of having a part-time job. Canada gives free health care to all of its citizens but only gives health care to foreigners if they're working. Generous, aren't they?