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Quoting Aurorin2:
**I apologize for previous posts that have yet to be published in their entirety. That is a technical glitch of which I have no control. I can only hope that the technical help at IM will make the necessary adjustments to correct the situation soon.
Ever since choosing to make certain parts of my romantic life public, or at least, sharing with some the fact that I am going to date differently in 2010 than I have up until now, I have been reflective of all of my previous relationships. My intention was to learn from previous mistakes or to take note of the things that went well in the relationship to carry those things forth in the next one. I have also been reading quite a bit about others' relationships. Not too long ago, I read a book, whose title I choose not to mention here, that addressed interracial dating. The goal of the book, I had supposed by reading reviews about it, was to offer dating alternatives to single Black women faithfully awaiting the black knight who will sweep them off their feet. Statistically, only about 1 out of 7 of Black women ever get married. So, the author proposed to dispel all the negative stereotypes that reticent Black women may have about dating interracially so that they can improve the chances for their happily ever after. I read the book, and though there were some things I found thought-provoking, I spent much of my reading time allegorically arguing with the author's points. Without going into too much detail, I will say that I disagreed with the characterization of the relationships between Caucasian men and African American women as the most difficult to maintain due to external factors (i.e . society, family, friends, etc..) Admittedly, I have had relationships with men of every ethnicity and the most significant relationships I had were also the most difficult to maintain. Yet, only one of the two men was Caucasian. I felt that her book was lacking a certain perspective, that of the African American woman that dated multi-racially. I felt her descriptions were too simplistic. I was so moved, I contacted the author. She is a very kind woman who not only tolerated my opinions, but also corresponded with me as we discussed this topic. She eventually invited me to "share" my own experiences with her to include them in her next book. I told her that I would consider her offer and promised to get back in touch soon. I've spent every day since then thinking about all my previous relationships in a different way. Now I am stuck with my ambivalence and head full of doubts.
Could telling her our stories be paramount to betraying the confidences of those men I once loved quite deeply? Could I tell her about some of the most painful moments in my life just to prove my point? Is it more important to be right than to be private? Would I really want to see some of the most poignant stories of my past loves retold in a book that is meant to disprove certain stereotypes and prejudices that women (in general) may have about African American, Caucasian, Latino, and Asian men? Even though the stories would be told without reference to our names, I would know that the story was about us. I don't have the right to retell our story and I certainly don't think that I should ever share our secrets.
When a relationship ends, who owns the rights to your story? How many secrets are you willing to reveal?
**I apologize for previous posts that have yet to be published in their entirety. That is a technical glitch of which I have no control. I can only hope that the technical help at IM will make the necessary adjustments to correct the situation soon.
Ever since choosing to make certain parts of my romantic life public, or at least, sharing with some the fact that I am going to date differently in 2010 than I have up until now, I have been reflective of all of my previous relationships. My intention was to learn from previous mistakes or to take note of the things that went well in the relationship to carry those things forth in the next one. I have also been reading quite a bit about others' relationships. Not too long ago, I read a book, whose title I choose not to mention here, that addressed interracial dating. The goal of the book, I had supposed by reading reviews about it, was to offer dating alternatives to single Black women faithfully awaiting the black knight who will sweep them off their feet. Statistically, only about 1 out of 7 of Black women ever get married. So, the author proposed to dispel all the negative stereotypes that reticent Black women may have about dating interracially so that they can improve the chances for their happily ever after. I read the book, and though there were some things I found thought-provoking, I spent much of my reading time allegorically arguing with the author's points. Without going into too much detail, I will say that I disagreed with the characterization of the relationships between Caucasian men and African American women as the most difficult to maintain due to external factors (i.e . society, family, friends, etc..) Admittedly, I have had relationships with men of every ethnicity and the most significant relationships I had were also the most difficult to maintain. Yet, only one of the two men was Caucasian. I felt that her book was lacking a certain perspective, that of the African American woman that dated multi-racially. I felt her descriptions were too simplistic. I was so moved, I contacted the author. She is a very kind woman who not only tolerated my opinions, but also corresponded with me as we discussed this topic. She eventually invited me to "share" my own experiences with her to include them in her next book. I told her that I would consider her offer and promised to get back in touch soon. I've spent every day since then thinking about all my previous relationships in a different way. Now I am stuck with my ambivalence and head full of doubts.
Could telling her our stories be paramount to betraying the confidences of those men I once loved quite deeply? Could I tell her about some of the most painful moments in my life just to prove my point? Is it more important to be right than to be private? Would I really want to see some of the most poignant stories of my past loves retold in a book that is meant to disprove certain stereotypes and prejudices that women (in general) may have about African American, Caucasian, Latino, and Asian men? Even though the stories would be told without reference to our names, I would know that the story was about us. I don't have the right to retell our story and I certainly don't think that I should ever share our secrets.
When a relationship ends, who owns the rights to your story? How many secrets are you willing to reveal?
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