Black Men are Gods Ch. 18

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Contrary to what you might have heard, the state of the affairs between Black men and Black women in North America is not deplorable. Don’t believe everything the media tells you. They only choose to show negative images of us. I know Black guys and Black girls who are scholarship winners, outstanding achievers, gifted intellectuals and savvy businesspeople yet their accomplishments are ignored by the media. Especially those of us who hail from the Caribbean. Haitians, Jamaicans, Trinidadians and the like. We the island folks can accomplish great things when given the chance. Take me for example. My name is Georgia Jean-Robert. A Haitian-American gal living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts.

At six-foot-two, I stood a head taller than most people at my very diverse high school in the City of Champions. Being a dark-skinned and voluptuous young Black woman in a country that worships skinny white chicks hasn’t been easy for me. In America, a cute gal with large breasts, a curvy body and a big booty isn’t exactly the epitome of beauty. Skeletal chicks seem to be. Things are changing, though. I’ve seen many curvy ladies of African and Hispanic descent in the movies lately. Here’s to hoping that this trend continues. A lot of people look at you and think they know you. Quite often, their impressions couldn’t be further from the truth. For example, who would ever guess that I was a varsity ice hockey player just by looking at me?

At Brockton Community High School, I was the first Black girl to try out for the Men’s Varsity Ice Hockey team. And I played hockey all four years of high school. After graduating in May of 2008, I enrolled at the world-famous Cadmus College. A private school with a student body of eleven thousand people. Located in the heart of Boston. Cadmus College is surprisingly affordable, charging six grand a year for in-state students, including room and board. Since I was on an athletic scholarship, I didn’t have to worry about that. I’m happy to say that Cadmus College takes care of its jocks. A lot of schools are neglecting athletics during the Recession and I don’t like that at all.

Athletics are a priority at Cadmus College. They compete in Men’s and Women’s Basketball, Men’s Baseball, Women’s Softball, Men’s and Women’s Ice Hockey, Men’s and Women’s Golf, Men’s and Women’s Gymnastics, Men’s Soccer, Women’s Track & Field, Women’s Soccer, Men’s Football, Men’s and Women’s Wrestling and Men’s and Women’s Swimming. It’s one of the most diverse schools in the Greater Boston Area. Thirty six percent of all students are of African-American, Hispanic or Asian descent. The school appealed to me for that reason. I’d gotten accepted at bigger schools like Boston College, Boston University and Northeastern but I felt like I’d stick out like a sore thumb at those lily-white schools. At Cadmus College, I had a chance to blend in. Hell, the new istanbul travesti President of Cadmus College, Dr. Rosa Santiago is a lady of African-American and Hispanic descent. How about that?

At Cadmus College, I began my new life. My parents, Elisabeth and Gerald Jean-Robert weren’t exactly thrilled with my choice of schools. They met at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst twenty two years ago. Two Haitian-American business majors who fell madly in love. They got married right after graduation. As you can imagine, they wanted me to attend their alma mater. I visited UMass-Amherst last year and although it’s a fine campus, it’s not really my style. I like the big city. My brother Jerome is a sophomore at Amherst and although I love my brother dearly, I can’t stomach going to the same school as him. When he lived in Brockton, he attended Cardinal Spelman High School while I went to the public high school. Why? Simply because he always tries to outshine me and a gal’s got to stake her territory.

Going to my brother’s school was out of the question. Cadmus College, here I come. I moved into the Madeline Halls dorm building on Commonwealth Avenue in August of 2008. Like all incoming freshmen, I was required to meet with my advisor and also my coach and future teammates. The Coach of the all new women’s varsity ice hockey team at Cadmus College was Marvin Luciano, an Italian guy in his mid-forties. He was tall, slightly chubby, with light bronze skin, thick black hair and dark eyes. With his steely brown eyes, he kind of looks mean, until you get to know him. He used to play hockey at Boston College back in the day. After a ten-year stint in the NHL, he returned to New England to coach women’s ice hockey.

The hockey team was full of white chicks, as can be expected. I wasn’t the only person of color, though. Chandra Lee, an Asian-American gal from Boston Latin Academy and Rosario Sanchez, a Mexican chick from Brampton, Canada, were the other women of color on the team. I was pleasantly surprised. I’d heard of Chandra Lee. Last year, she was making headlines at her high school by leading the boys ice hockey team past their toughest rivals. How about that? Chandra and I became fast friends. She was tall, sexy as hell and kind of reminded me of the world-famous actress Lucy Liu, only hotter. She’s the only gal at school I considered a friend. I’ve always been shy, and I don’t make friends easily. This year, I wanted a fresh start without any drama. I had enough of that last year.

I got my heart broken last year. I fell in love with this gorgeous Cape Verdean chick named Linda Mendes. Until the day I found out we had the same birthday, we lived in different worlds. The first day of February 2008, we both turned eighteen. Two gals who were different as can be. She was captain of the women’s soccer team at Brockton Community High School istanbul travestileri and my personal idol. A tall, gorgeous young woman with light brown skin, curly black hair and pale gray eyes. She’s the first person I ever fell in love with. I had crushes on guys growing up, especially my brother’s friends from the Football team but I didn’t know what love is until I met Linda Mendes. She opened a whole new world for me. We became inseparable. I even invited her to my church, the Haitian-American Seventh-Day Adventist Church located not far from Downtown Brockton. Linda was so pretty and charming that my church friends and family members loved her as well. Our parents knew we were close, they just didn’t know how close. One day, things changed between us forever.

Linda Mendes invited me to her house on Hillberg, in Brockton’s West Side. Linda and her family lived in a really nice house. My folks live in a mansion on Ash Street, with a big yard and a swimming pool yet her house dwarfed ours. Linda’s mother Lisa Rodriguez Mendes was a powerful politician back in Cape Verde and her father Joao Mendes was a high-ranking member of the Massachusetts State Police. I was impressed by her family and their lovely house. That fine summer day, we were swimming in her pool when she kissed me for the first time. In that moment, I left my world behind. Linda claimed me. Mind, body and soul. I was in love with this sexy Cape Verdean chick and if loving her was wrong then I didn’t want to be right. When she kissed me passionately and caressed my body, I burned for her. When she gently licked my breasts and parted my strong legs, I moaned. When her fingers began playing with my pussy, I gasped in surprise and begged her for more. I gave myself to her sweet kisses, tender caresses and probing fingers and tongue. Linda drank me in. She’s the first person I made love to. And the only woman I’ve ever loved. I thought she loved me too. Unfortunately, Linda Mendes was a serial heartbreaker. She left me for this Haitian guy named George Joseph, from the Football team. I wanted to go to Prom with her but she wouldn’t have me. I graduated high school with a broken heart.

At Cadmus College, I tried to forge a new life for myself. It wasn’t easy. Even at this diverse school, people mostly hung out with those like themselves. The white brats hung out with their fellows, members of the wealthy Irish and Italian communities of Boston. The African-American students didn’t seem to care to mix with the white brats or the Asian and Hispanic students. Wow. So much for collegiate integration. We all lived within our little cliques. It didn’t matter that the Governor of Massachusetts is a Black man and the President of the United States is a Black man. Some things simply never change. Americans are the most xenophobic people on the planet Earth.

My friend Chandra Lee was my life travesti istanbul line and my rock. She’s the kind of friend you can always depend on. When we took on our NCAA Division One rivals from Boston College and Boston University, she had my back. Coach decided to make me goalkeeper because I was the biggest chick on the team. Just my luck. The women used me as target practice. When we were on the ice, Chandra was quite often my last line of defense. Since we both majored in Criminal Justice, we had some of the same classes. She was smart, perky and totally cool. Not to mention easy on the eyes. I’ve noticed a lot of beautiful women on campus. I once got asked out by this red-haired white chick named Sheila O’Shea but I turned her down because aggressive broads aren’t really my style. There were some sexy Black women on campus. Including a lot of openly gay Black women. I had a slight crush on this sexy, openly gay Haitian-American sociology professor named Miranda Saint-Pierre but she rebuffed my advances. Apparently she was dating some Irish chick from Wellesley. Man, my college days were lonely. I wonder if other women are as bored as I am. Sometimes, I wondered about my friend Chandra. She was tall, sexy and smart. Her parents had some serious money. Guys and gals seemed to like her. So why was she single? One day, I decided to ask her. Chandra and I had been friends for ages but I never asked about her personal life.

One Friday night, we were in my dorm and she brought out the Brokeback Mountain DVD. I loved that movie. I was curious as to why she chose it, though. Chandra and I lay on the bed, watching the movie. I cry every time I watch this movie. Why can’t gay characters have happy endings in the movies? Why must our stories end in tears? Straight people hate us this much? As I watched the movie, I noticed Chandra kept brushing against me. I thought nothing of it. As far as I knew, it was accidental. Truth be told, lying so close to her was making me nervous. Chandra has a seriously hot body. She’s five-foot-eleven, lean and muscular, with fine breasts and a big butt. Just the way I liked my women. Unfortunately, she was hopelessly heterosexual. Or so I thought. I gathered my courage, and asked her why she was single. Chandra looked at me with raised eyebrows. I swallowed hard, and told her that if I had a body like hers, I’d definitely be getting some on a Friday night rather than staying home. Chandra laughed, and told me she didn’t want to go out on Friday nights. She’d rather stay home with me. That answer shocked me more than a lightning bolt would have.

I stared at Chandra, speechless. Chandra did the last thing I expected. She took my face in her hands and kissed me. I was stunned, but found myself kissing her back passionately. As unexpected as this moment was, I didn’t want it to end. When our lips parted, Chandra smiled at me and told me that she fancied me. Translation? She liked me ever since we met. Wow. I smiled, and breathlessly told Chandra that I liked her since the day we met too. Grinning, she kissed me again. We didn’t go out that Friday night. We found something much better to do.

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