Is it possible for a Black man to fetishize his own race? That's what I want to know. My name is Dillon Blackmore, but you can call me D.B. I was born in the City of Halifax, Nova Scotia, to a Jamaican immigrant father and a white Canadian mother. That's a story in and of itself, how my parents met and stayed together. I'll tell you about it some other time.
At the age of nineteen, I moved to the City of Detroit, Michigan, to attend the University of Detroit-Mercy. It wasn't easy for me to grow up as a mixed-race brother in the City of Halifax, where the blatant racism is pretty much in your face. And don't even get me started on what my parents, Louis Blackmore and Lucille Cypher-Blackmore went through as an interracial couple. The province of Nova Scotia in many ways is the Mississippi of Canada. I couldn't wait to get the hell away from there. That's why I moved to Detroit, the blackest locale in North America.
A lot of people talk down about the City of Detroit, and think that it's a representation of a failed metropolis. All because Detroit didn't whether the last recession as well as other American cities like Boston or New York. I am a Canadian man living in the City of Detroit, Michigan, and I love it. I know that the mess in nearby Flynt has us looking bad but we can only solve our issues one problem at a time. I like Detroit and I find it to be a vibrant, racially diverse and fun place with a unique culture. One that no other North American city can match, not even Toronto or New York.
In the City of Detroit, I see black men walking around with their white wives and mixed-race offspring without fear or shame. I promise you that this doesn't happen in the Canadian province of Nova Scotia. I remember walking down the street in the City of Halifax with my parents and seeing angry looks on the faces of white males walking by. Some of these bozos would cough, sneeze and spit on the ground as we walked by. How I despised these bigots. Americans are surprised when I tell them how mean and bigoted Canadians can be. Enter the Great White North at your own risk, folks.
"Dillon, are we going to do this or what?" Tamika Charleston asked, hands on her hips, snatching me out of my reverie. I looked at the six-foot-tall, curvy and gorgeously dark-skinned, Afro-sporting vision of mahogany beauty standing before me and smiled. I met Tamika in my criminal psychology class. The curvy cutie was curious about my Canadian accent, and I was honestly curious about that thick ass of hers. Yup, that's why I had to holler. We have a lot of black folks in Nova Scotian towns like Halifax, Dartmouth and Preston but they're nothing like the ones in the U.S.
The black women of America are feisty and fearless. A lot of them give brothers grief but a lot more of them are fiercely loyal to the black man. I totally dig that about them. I got tired of banging white girls who wouldn't look at me when they saw me walking down the street in Halifax because they're afraid of what their racist family members and uptight friends might say. Team Villa, thanks but no thanks. This Canadian brother definitely loves his Chocolate...
