Desire across racial lines is real. It’s everywhere in kink,
swinging, and open relationship spaces—and it’s something I’ve felt, witnessed,
and lived.
I’ve been in relationships with women from all kinds of
backgrounds. Not because I collect cultures, but because the connection was real.
Because I was seen—not “just” as a black man or a good fuck—but as a whole
person. As a Black man whose life experiences, worldview, and cultural
context weren’t brushed over or treated like background noise. I was met fully—and
those relationships only deepened because of that.
That’s what appreciation looks like.
When it comes to Black women… I’m in awe. Oh fuck do I love
my black women. The beauty, the oh so deeply feminine power, the presence—it
moves me. And there’s something deeply satisfying, even heartwarming, about
seeing Black women I know—whether partners or friends—being genuinely
appreciated by men of other backgrounds. When I see a connection that’s mutual,
grounded, and emotionally aware, it’s beautiful.
But when I sense fetishisation—when I catch even a hint of
“I’ve always wanted to try a Black woman”—I’m out. I feel repelled. Why?
because I know what’s underneath that phrasing: a stripping away of personhood.
A desire based on myth, not truth.
That same line applies to me, too. If someone’s desire for
me is rooted in a surface-level curiosity, or some "bucket list"
mentality, I’m already halfway gone. I don’t care how hot the surface energy
is—if I don’t feel seen, it’s empty.
Now, here’s something else I’ve noticed over time: amber
flags that show up within our own racial communities. Like when someone
says, “I just don’t date people from my own background.” That just doesn’t sit
right with me—for some, I know it can be rooted in trauma or difficult
experiences they’d rather not relive. I can hold space for that. I get it… to
an extent…..which is why it’s an amber flag as opposed to being bright red.
But it’s still something I take note of. Because when desire
becomes a way of distancing from yourself or your community, I can’t help but
wonder what parts of yourself you're trying not to face. And I know I’ll
eventually be asked to participate in that avoidance that might inadvertently chip
away at my own self-worth if that woman is black .
Anyway, when I do sense genuine appreciation—when someone
connects with the fullness of who I am, and wants me, not just my
background or the fantasy of it—that’s something else entirely. That’s real.
That’s powerful. That’s hot.
And yeah… when it’s done right? When two people meet each other fully, even across differences? When there’s respect, desire, and mutual clarity? It’s horny as fuck. That part’s not lost on me. But it’s the bonus—not the foundation.
That’s why I’m intentional about the creation of Club
BiVersity, we don’t pretend colour doesn’t exist. We don’t claim to be
“post-racial.” We centre the reality that our identities do shape how we
show up—and that’s not something to fear. It’s something to honour.
So if you’re navigating desire across race, culture, or
ethnicity—whether you’re Black, Brown, white, or mixed—my take is this:
Be honest with yourself. Yes be curious about others but also be mindful to pay
attention to what you’re drawn to—and why.
Because when appreciation is real? When it’s layered,
conscious, and rooted in seeing the whole person? That’s where beauty
lives. That’s where pleasure deepens. That’s where sex, love, and kink can be
fucking awesome.
