I Can't Settle for a BMW

There was a cover article in Newsweek several years ago celebrating black women and at the same time subvertly condemning black men. For several weeks following its publishing, my telephone and fiber optics lines were on fire, as my girlfriends and I dissected, discussed, debated, and decried the points raised in the article. The main point I remember that was constantly reiterated is something like black women graduate from college at a percentage almost 30% higher than blacks. Basically, we are running out of college educated men (and presumably all that goes with that: money, job, trips to the Bahamas, a nice car, cultured conversation, going to restaurants that require reservations).

When I discussed the article's findings with my college-educated black male friends, they laughed and teased me, suggesting I start getting used to keggers and wear a scarf on my head at night. They knew they could pick from the creme de la creme. Do you know what would happen if an educated black man, who was even marginally attractive came across a group of college educated black women. Madness!

I know. Because I've seen it happen.

My first job out of college was at a non-profit organization. There were about 15 total employees and of that number exactly 2 were men. We were idealistic, excited to be working in the community and striving to bring hope to our people. At the same time we were young, and liked to have fun. We worked long hours but we would have fun cracking on each other, shopping online, discussing the latest black celebrity gossip, and yes, talking about how there were no good black men to be found.

One day, just before lunch, we saw the executive director walk out of his office laughing and patting the back of a black man. He was tall, he was handsome; we were entranced. Our office is set up as a large bullpen and everyone had their space around the sides of the rectangle. Basically, we are all in one large room. So when our boss walked by to escort his guest out, you could have heard a pin drop. We all were trying to be sly and acted engrossed in our email or stacks of paper, but you know we were ear hustling for sure!

This mystery man began working for us as the new general counsel. He was a very nice, personable, somewhat shy guy, and very intelligent. But he really didn't see it coming. Within the next couple of weeks, he had 13 offers to go to lunch, 5 offers to serve as his personal assistant, 3 women brought in peach cobbler when it was discovered it was his favorite dish. As the days progressed, skirts got a little shorter, heels a little taller, and everyone's hair was on point. I knew it was a problem when seriously considered walking into his office with my aereola partially showing, just to set myself apart from the pack.

I say all that to say this: Although the odds are difficult, although competition is fierce, I want to marry my dream man. I don't want to settle for the BMW (Black Man Working). I refuse to downgrade my expectations because of supposed "statistics". I know that through hard work, dedication and creativity, I will find my Mr. Right. And I won't have to flash a nipple to get him.