You Hate Black Women

There was a time when saying, "I like chocolate ice cream," didn't require adding, "...and if you don't then you're a loser."

Somewhere along the way, we lost that.

Today, it seems like nobody is allowed to simply appreciate something anymore. Every compliment has to come packaged with an insult. Every preference has to become a competition. Every opinion has to produce a loser.

It's exhausting.

You can like iPhones without pretending Android users are carrying around calculators.

I can prefer Android without acting like every Apple customer was hypnotized by a glowing logo.

Both phones make calls. Both let you waste six hours scrolling through videos you'll forget by tomorrow. 

Sports fans do the same thing.

Someone says LeBron James is their favorite player.

Instead of saying, "I can see why," somebody immediately launches into a ten-minute TED Talk explaining why Michael Jordan would have beaten him while wearing dress shoes. (By the way, I'm Team Jordan.)

Here's a crazy thought: Maybe LeBron is great. Maybe Jordan is great. Maybe your favorite doesn't become taller because you shrunk someone else.

Music fans do it. Political parties do it. People who like cars, video games, restaurants, rappers, actors, etc.

The saddest example, though, is one I see far too often involving Black men.

A Black man falls in love with a White woman (or anyone who isn't Black). Good for him. Love who loves you, bro.

But then comes the unnecessary part.

Some of those Black men feel compelled to explain their choice by putting down Black women.

"They're too loud."

"They're too masculine."

"They've got attitudes."

"They're impossible."

Really?

If another race of woman makes you happy, great. But what exactly did Black women do to deserve becoming your press conference?

Imagine someone announcing they bought a Mercedes and then spending twenty minutes talking about how terrible BMWs are.

Nobody asked. Nobody cared. Just enjoy your Mercedes and keep it moving. Someone else will enjoy the BMW. Trust me.

If your happiness depends on insulting people you didn't choose, maybe you're not as happy as you're pretending to be.

Here's the part that bothers me most: boys are watching this! They're learning that it's okay to put down all Black women if the one you want doesn't want you (which is usually the case).

Real praise doesn't need victims.

• You don't have to convince me your spouse is amazing by insulting mine.
• You don't have to prove your favorite athlete by disrespecting another legend.
• And you don't have to justify your dating preferences by degrading an entire group of people.

Just like what you like and respect what you don't. It's really that simple.

My wife is black. My mom was black. My grandmothers were black. I love black women. I'm not saying they're better than every other woman. I'm saying they're my favorite. I welcome you to pump up your favorite in the comments if you feel compelled.

But "give me a sister, I can't resist her."

So, My IG Got Hacked...

They finally got me. I thought a trusted friend was sending a video to me and didn't realize that they'd been hacked as well until it was too late. I finally got fooled.

My Instagram account of 10+ years is no more. I have uninstalled it and I have moved on.

It's all good though. My activity on IG basically nothing minus the one or two times per week I checked it for funny videos that people send me. I wasn't using it regularly, but it still contained a lot of content.

I hope nothing malicious is done with the photos. With today's A.I. being as good as it is, the last thing that I want to see is my face robbing a bank in Idaho or something. That's a real concern in 2026.

But I also will miss some of the connections. For some people, IG was the only link that I had to them. Friends in Toronto that I met over a decade ago. Friends in Louisiana whose businesses I try to support. Local businesses that I follow for upcoming events. I'll have to find another way to track them all down.

In the meantime, if you see a video of someone who looks like me being chased by the police in a stolen car, just know that it's not really me. And if you later find out that it was me then know that I probably have a pretty good explanation for it.

(And happy birthday to my friend, Tami Scott in Louisville, KY.)

Race Baiting Is Exhausting. For Everybody.

Every morning, before I've even had a chance to convince myself to get out of bed, social media is already yelling.

A racist customer.
A racist cop.
A racist teacher.
A racist company.
A racist neighbor.
A racist cashier who allegedly looked at someone for 1.7 seconds too long.

Some of these stories are absolutely real. Some expose behavior that deserves attention. Some uncover problems that need to be addressed. But somewhere along the line, outrage stopped being the exception and became the business model.

And that's exhausting.

As a Black person, I'm tired of opening my phone and feeling like the internet wants to remind me every single day that somebody somewhere hates me. Whether the story is accurate, exaggerated, missing context, or eventually proven false barely matters by the time it reaches millions of people. The emotional effect is already there.

After a while, you start wondering if the world is actually getting worse, or if algorithms have simply figured out that fear and anger keep us scrolling.

Here's the uncomfortable truth: if your news feed convinces you that racial conflict is happening around every corner, you're going to start seeing racial conflict around every corner.

That isn't healthy. It's also unfair.

Most white people aren't racists. Most Black people aren't walking around expecting racism from every person they meet. Most people are simply trying to get through work, pay bills, raise kids, and figure out why eggs suddenly cost as much as a car payment.

Yet social media rarely rewards ordinary interactions. Nobody posts, "500 people treated me with kindness today."

Instead, we amplify the one awful encounter because outrage gets clicks, comments, shares, and ad revenue. Decency doesn't trend.

There's another side to this that doesn't get discussed enough.

Imagine being a white person who doesn't have a prejudiced bone in your body, yet every day you're confronted with headlines that imply your race needs to answer for the actions of someone you've never met.

That has to be exhausting too.

It creates a conversation where people stop listening because they're already preparing their defense.

Meanwhile, the actual racists, who make up a tiny fraction of the population, get far more influence than they deserve because we hand them the microphone every single day.

We should absolutely call out genuine racism.

We should absolutely seek justice when people are treated unfairly.

But we don't have to build an entire culture around hunting for the next racial controversy before we've even finished discussing or resolving the last one.

Constant outrage has consequences.

• It increases anxiety.
• It fuels suspicion.
• It makes neighbors view one another through stereotypes instead of shared experiences.

Worst of all, it convinces people that progress is impossible, even when history shows we've come much farther than many are willing to admit.

The goal shouldn't be pretending racism doesn't exist.

The goal should be refusing to let racism become the lens through which we interpret every interaction.

Because if every disagreement becomes racism...

If every misunderstanding becomes discrimination...

If every headline becomes another reminder that America is hopelessly divided...

Then the people making money from our anger have already won.

Sometimes common sense means acknowledging that a problem exists without allowing it to consume your identity. I'm not saying that we need fewer conversations about race. Maybe we just need more honest ones.

The kind that don't begin with outrage and don't end with everyone hating each other just a little bit more.