Black Love in Today's WorldbySamuelx©
Hello, there. My name is Stefano Bergeron. A big and tall young Black man of Haitian descent living in the city of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born and raised in the city of Boston, Massachusetts, but moved to Ottawa for school because of the Recession. My father, Boston police sergeant James Bergeron thought I'd be safer in Canada than in America given the volatile social and political climate of the country at the time. Too many White radicals walking around hating on President Barack Obama. Too many hate crimes. And too many racist cops shooting innocent young Black men. Yeah, I think my father had a point when he sent me to Canada.
When I first came to the Confederation of Canada in November 2009, I lived in the Ottawa suburb of Orleans with my uncle Leonard Bergeron, my father's little brother. He works as a corrections officer in downtown Ottawa. His wife Martha is a very nice lady. She works as a nurse here in town and she's the best aunt ever. I got along okay with my cousins Valentina and Marcia, both of whom attend the University of Ottawa. Yeah, having family in town helped make the transition okay for me for the most part. Folks, I'm not going to lie to you. When I first got to Ottawa, I felt like this place was a prison.
Growing up in racially diverse Boston, I had lots of friends from diverse backgrounds. My buddy Matt is Jewish. We met during my first year at Bay State College. My buddy Carl is Jamaican. And my other friend Hector is Mexican-American. We all hung out together in downtown Boston every Friday night. Just a band of brothers. In Ottawa, people don't act like that. Blacks and Whites along with other races seem to be uneasy around each other, though they're polite enough for the most part. They pretend to like each other but that's just for show. Welcome to Ottawa. A little hypocrisy goes a long way.
Yeah, I didn't like this city and I didn't hide it. The Canadian government made me wait for everything just because I'm a U.S. citizen. I had to apply for a work permit and wait months to get it. After obtaining my work permit I looked for work but since I wasn't Canadian, most places weren't about to trust a foreigner. Even though I had a clean record both in America and in Canada. As if there is something hidden in Canada that someone from the U.S. would actually want! Never mind. I went to train as a security guard in order to get a job. Afterwards I got my health card and my social insurance card. You need these documents if you're going to live and work in Canada. I began working as a security guard at various locations in the city of Ottawa. And for the most part it was okay, though the pay sucked.
After a few months working in the city of Ottawa, I decided to look for a decent school. I visited the University of Ottawa, Carleton University, Algonquin College and La Cite Collegiale. They're the four big schools in the city of Ottawa. I chose Carleton University because it's more diverse than most of the others. There are lots of immigrants from continental Africa, Asia, the Middle East and the Caribbean living in the city of Ottawa. I'm told they make up close to thirty percent of the city's one million plus inhabitants. Wow. I didn't think Canada had such diversity in their capital. I thought I'd only see white folks around here. I guess I was kind of wrong. Anyhow, I applied to Carleton University and enrolled in the Criminology program. Why Criminology? I was a Criminal Justice major at Bay State College back in Boston. I decided to continue along the same lines while studying in Canada.
I don't think I really knew what loneliness was until I came to Canada. In Boston I always had my family and friends. In Ottawa, I wouldn't say I had nobody. I had some family in town but it's not the same thing as being at home. I moved out of my uncle's house in Orleans and rented an apartment in the suburb of Nepean. It's not too far from the Carleton University campus so it suited me just fine. On campus, I made very few friends. There are lots of Black students on campus, though fifty five percent of them seemed to be women. Relations between Black male and Black female students at Carleton University were a bit tense. The Black women were royally pissed off that most Black males on campus chose to date White women. In turn, Black female students were now chasing White guys like their lives depended on it. This is the mad world I walked into. Apparently, Black Canadians had never heard of Black Love. They're all going interracial now!
As a Black man who loves Black women, I found myself quite confused in this place. There were so many beautiful Black women in the city of Ottawa. Black women make up almost sixty percent of the Black population of the city of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. These ladies came from everywhere. The Republic of Haiti. Jamaica. Trinidad. Djibouti. Somaliland. Ghana. Chad. Ethiopia. Congo. Zaire. The Republic of South Africa. Zimbabwe. Nigeria. Wow. I'm a lifelong resident of the first U.S. State to elect a Black man as Governor in modern times yet it's in lily-White Ottawa that I got in touch with my roots. I was fascinated by the Africans. They're so different from my fellow African-Americans in the U.S. I saw them as my long-lost brothers and sisters. I didn't know Jack about the internecine struggles plaguing the Black community of Canada. Kenyans don't like Ghanaians. Somalians don't like Nigerians. Haitians don't like Somalians. And the various groups among the Black Canadians refused to work together. Even though they're collectively under assault from the forces of racism in White Canadian society. What a bright bunch these Black Canadians are!
Nevertheless, I was very much attracted to the Black ladies of Ottawa. From the smooth-haired, slender and shy Somalian ladies to the curvy Jamaican gals, the regal Haitian women and the daring Nigerian gals. I found these Black ladies uniquely beautiful, strong and sexy. Yet I seemed alone in that viewpoint. Every Black man in the city of Ottawa walks around with a chubby White woman. Especially if he just came to Ottawa from continental Africa or the islands of the Caribbean. Almost in revenge, Black women in Ottawa are grabbing the nearest White man...at least, those White men who aren't into Asian women. I rarely see White guys with White women in Ottawa. They're all into Asian women, though a few are into Black women. Black men in Ottawa exclusively chase White women. What the hell is going on here?
Black women in Ottawa claim to want a good Black man but they seemed to have given up on us. They think we've all been brainwashed into chasing White women. Man, I'm not like those Black guys. I'm a good Black man who loves Black women. If you were to check out my computer history, you'd only see Black porn on it. Never White pornographic content. I'm addicted to the works of Black female porn stars like Janet Jacme, Pinky, Angela Assets, Lola Lane, Skyy Black, Africa Allen, Cherokee D'Ass, Vida Valentine, Vanessa Blue, Sierra, Kim Eternity, Angel Eyes and many others. I love all-Black videos featuring big-booty Black ladies getting drilled by well-hung Black studs. No White chicks for me. I hope that's okay with you. I love Black women. Love everything about them. I just hope I can find one to love me, before I die. Unfortunately, the Black ladies I meet never seem to go for me.
I suffer from Nice Guy Syndrome, folks. I'm six-foot-three, big and tall and kind of imposing, but I also have thick nerdy glasses. I go to Star Trek conventions. I own a Wookie costume from my last Star Wars convention. I'm really into science and computers. By the way, I suck at sports. I can't play basketball or football. I suck at soccer. Interestingly, I am a pretty good swimmer. A fact that surprises a lot of people, both Black and White. My father used to take me to the beach in Cape Cod every summer. It's where he met my dear mother Arianna Joseph Bergeron, God rest her soul. She died giving birth to me, so I never knew her. I wonder if being motherless is what made me so awkward around women, especially Black women.
Suffice to say, I'm not exactly a player in the dating game. Black women always tell me that I'm too nice and too friendly. And they always tell me that I try too hard. I'm a nice guy. Is there anything wrong with that? If you ask me, the world could use more nice Black men. Too many of us are seen as roughnecks. Anyhow, my being a nice guy is the reason I didn't get laid until I was twenty. Three years later, I've been with about four different women. I had to change my game otherwise the Bergeron family line was going extinct. I decided to switch things up a bit in Canada. I wore a durag and bought a Black leather jacket. I also left my glasses at home. I couldn't wear contacts. They make my eyes itch. With my new "bad boy" look, I went out in the city. I was a security guard and University student by day and a wannabe-roughneck by night. My bad boy act didn't fool anyone. Black women saw right through it. And I went back to square one. Sexless in the city. Damn.
Then I met her. Who is she? The chick who changes everything. Rania is friendly, and very nice and easygoing. I lucked out when I met her, folks. We were at a bus stop in downtown Ottawa. It was raining and she offered me her umbrella. I wasn't used to such kindness from strangers. I haven't been able to forget her. Actually, the first time I met her, I remembered everything she said except her name. Okay, I remembered that she was from the City of Toronto, had recently moved to Ottawa and worked in Foreign Relations. I forgot her name, but looked for her online and couldn't find her. The second time I ran into her on the bus I actually got the name. But I forgot to ask for her number. I guess she made me nervous. The third time I ran into her at Rideau Centre, I saw her with a White guy. My heart sank. Just my luck. Every Black woman I like is usually into thugs, dating White guys, dating other women, or sometimes all of the above at the same time. Welcome to my life. I turned to walk away, hoping Rania hadn't seen me. She had. And she walked right up to me. Rania was just coming from work and she was having a bite with her gay Irish friend Neil. How quaint!
Well, she asked me to have dinner with them and I accepted. We grabbed a bite in the Food Court. And I learned quite a bit about Rania. For starters, her last name was Stephenson. This gorgeous young Black professional woman of Jamaican descent was a graduate of the University of Toronto. And she was single and looking. Her friend Neil echoed that sentiment. I smiled at them both. Man, I was glad to hear that. This time, Rania gave me her number. And I memorized it with every fiber of my being. When I went home that night, I added her as a friend on Facebook. Then I mustered the courage to ask her out. I took her to the movie Machete. It features macho man Danny Trejo, a Hispanic actor I've always admired. As it turns out, Rania was a fan of Mr. Trejo too and she was glad to see him in a lead role. We enjoyed the movie and grabbed a bite afterwards. I had a blast with Rania. And that's how it all began.
Folks, I am happy to say that Rania and I are definitely a couple. I'm happier than I've ever been in years. I swear that these days, the sky seems bluer and the air sweeter. I'm fascinated by her. A gorgeous, educated and ambitious young Black woman who still believes in the Black Love. She told me that although she was a feminist at heart and a real go-getter, she still believed in Prince Charming. Well, if she wants a chocolate-flavoured Prince Charming, I'm her man! Rania told me that she had been around the dating block. She'd been with Black guys, Asian guys, White guys and Hispanic guys, dating across racial lines in an effort to find love. She discovered that she liked Black guys most of all, though they also brought her a lot of heartache. Her last Black boyfriend, a notary public named Clinton Travis, forgot to tell her he had three sons by two different women, one Black and one White. The last White guy she dated, a corporate accountant named Larry O'Sanders, failed to stand up for her honour when his racist mother and sister called Rania the N-word during a heated argument. Rania looked very sad when she recalled that episode. The sight of this sad look on her pretty face melted my heart. I took her chin in my hand and in an uncharacteristically bold move, I kissed her.
This was our first kiss, folks. I think I'm in love with Rania. My gorgeous Jamaican goddess from the city of Toronto. So sexy, smart, driven and ambitious. She's one of the top consultants at the office of foreign relations in the city of Ottawa. They're offering her assignments overseas and she's fielding job offers from public and private companies all over Canada and America as well. I'm entering my fourth year in Carleton University's Criminology program. I always thought I would go back to Boston when I graduate from Carleton University. I want to become a police officer like my father before me. However, I can always do that later. I'm in my twenties, healthy and educated. If Rania goes overseas for work, I think I'll go with her. At least for a while. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm an ambitious guy. I'm not a doormat. But I think true love is worth putting your ambitions on hold for. I know it's not a guy thing to say that my life without Rania would be empty. I'm just prioritizing. We're going to Boston soon. I want to introduce her to my Dad. She's already met ( and charmed) my family members in Orleans. I want to make our relationship work. My lady means everything to me.