Excerpt from Dr. Michael Eric Dyson's book "The Michael Eric Dyson Reader".
"Look at me," the sister blurted in exasperation. "It's Saturday night, and I can't buy a date."
She attended a black tie in Chicago that the 100 Black Men of Chicago sponsored. The even drew many of Chicago's elite, prominent clergy, physicians, entrepreneurs, and politicians. Her skin was brown and smooth-all sweet chocolate dipped into sensuous ebony hues - and her sparkling eyes set like flaming candles above her arching cheekbones. Her hair was a stylish black splash, with her limbs elegantly gesturing and her hands delicately pointing as her painted, manicured nails punctuated her message. As we talked for half an hour, it was clear that she was not only drop-dead gorgeous, but also bright as all outdoors, down-to-earth but schooled, witty and urbane but a true home girl, used to the corporate game she played as an executive but wearing her status loosely. Highly intelligent, educated, perceptive, in love with her people, down for the cause, a lover of black men-and she was alone, by herself, without a date in sight on a Saturday evening that brimmed with romantic promise.
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked me. "I'm not trying to get married tomorrow-I'm not pressuring black men that way. I just want somebody to spend some time with, someone with whom I can have a good discussion and a good meal, and somebody I can laugh with. I just want a date, for God's sake, not a husband!"
Can any of you ladies relate to this story?