What Happens When I Post That I love Black Men

MacNfries said:
... and how's that happening, CJ? Explain if you please.
Click to expand...
I'd rather not becuz that would be me snitching on the cunt/cranky others who were butt hurt over my words but when they dished it out 1st it was ok...so we will just leave it at that Mr. MacNFries is it?😂😂😂😂💯🤔

P.s. Long as I been on this site, I haven't been dimed out by ZERO Black Men on here...so who else would u say is the culprits on a Black and white sex site eh?😂😂😂🤔🤔🤔💯
 
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MacNfries said:
I'm not sure WHY, when someone seems to disagree with a black male or white wife, or white gay male post, that they automatically go to name calling the individual "you're a racist". All I said regarding YOUR remark is that I didn't care who or what you love. (my opinion) Had I wanted to insult you I'd have called you a faggot or something, which I didn't. My comment was keyed off your remark in post #25.
So, I'll give you the same opportunity I usually give others who use that "you're a racist" so loosely. Explain how, by my remark, you determine that I'm a racist? And please elaborate fully.
Then, kindly write those words you called me down on a sheet of 81/2 by 11"paper, fold the paper until you can't fold it anymore, then stick it right up your ass. There, now consider yourself "insulted".
Thank you Dellvan
Click to expand...
The word racist is a powerful weapon and is often used
 
Being raised in a conservative rural area of the Deep South by parents who like their peers had racist views I too was initially troubled by interracial sex . However, despite their racist opinions I knew many white women , including my mom , sexually desired black men . I later noticed my wife checking black guys out so intently that she would lose awareness of how obvious it was.
I finally accepted the fact that bbc desire is extremely strong despite the taboo . I then used it to enhance our bedroom experiences by describing to wife scenarios of her being blacked. Result - wife having immediate and multiple orgasms. Knowing wife cums just from suggestions of getting bbc and my suspicion she has succumbed to it now makes me ejaculate. An erotic admission of bbc superiority
 
LittleSky said:
I was rejected for being White/not black 3 times in the past 12-18 months, it does cut a bit, as a white guy.
Click to expand...
You would love Metro Toronto as l was often rejected being Black as l grew up. However in the recent past our demographics changed wildly. Now those that have their way here are Asian Indians better known as desis and Sikhs, other Asians, and many others.
 
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Jacktone said:
Firstly as a white male I support your choices and I think certainly on this site and many others you will find almost all of us are in support of you.
Surely the old racist days although not over they are fading away , retreating to hiding in anonymity on Twitter or fetishizing their racism into masturbation.
Leaving the odd racist raving at someone in the supermarket often getting a beat down by a Black Man for their trouble.
Don't worry too much things are changing ♠️💪🏿🛐🪿
Click to expand...
100 percent they are and in the UK as well as the US. Just like Jacktone, I and many others support your choices and even on here find it amusing that there are those who claim they aren’t bothered. They express their view in such aggressive ways that it’s clear that they are the very bruised, outraged white males of whom you wrote so eloquently.

It’s good that we are seeing them being pushed to the margins and as someone who grew up in overtly racist times, it is great to see and I continue to support change any way I can.
 
STIFFBBC said:
You would love Metro Toronto as l was often rejected being Black as l grew up. However in the recent past our demographics changed wildly. Now those that have their way here are Asian Indians better known as desis and Sikhs, other Asians, and many others.
Click to expand...
Painful, but at least it make sense.

Not to get political, I'm just salty we allowed it to happen, with votes and policies.

Fellow Canadian here, from Montreal. ;)
 
MsThang said:
Every time I mention — even casually — that I love Black men, I brace myself, not for confusion or curiosity, but for the heat of white male outrage. As a white woman in a consensually nonmonogamous marriage with my white husband, I've been open about my preferences: romantically, sexually, and emotionally, I'm drawn to Black men. And that single truth ignites more fury than my nonmonogamy ever does.
I want to talk about that.
This is not just about who I find attractive. It's about how white supremacy, patriarchal entitlement, and personal liberation all collide the moment a white woman says out loud: I choose something else.

From Racist Roots to Radical Rejection​

I grew up in a racist household. I wish I could soften that sentence, but I can't. The comments were casual and constant, the lines between "us" and "them" clearly drawn. But life, in its beautiful defiance, handed me a different story. My very first love—my first real, soul-shaking love—was a Black man. We were together for four years in college, and during that time, I was immersed in his world, his family, and his culture.
What I learned there, I could never unlearn.
The love was real, as was the community, and the quiet teachings about resilience, joy, pain, and pride were real. I began to see the world differently—not through a textbook or a tweet, but through lived intimate experiences. By the time that relationship ended, I had entirely rejected the racism I had been raised with, and I never looked back.

What Preference Means​

When I say I prefer Black men, I don't mean I've checked a box or assigned value by shade. I'm talking about how I feel in their presence — how I am seen, safe, and energized. Yes, I find Black men physically beautiful. But it's not just about appearance. It's how they express themselves — the confident, playful flirting they've mastered, the kind that's direct without being aggressive, sexy without being crude.
There's a kind of masculinity many Black men exude that's not performative but embodied—and it permits me to be entirely feminine. I don't have to fight to be heard or shrink to be desired. Too often, with white men, I'm either debating for my voice or managing their fragility. I feel invited to relax, glow, and be soft with Black men. There's room for me to exhale.
This isn't idealization. It's the emotional truth of where I feel most in balance.

The Rage of White Men — and Why It's So Loud​

Whenever I speak about this publicly — whether in writing or on my podcast — I'm met with a particular rage. Not from Black people. Not from women. But from white men.
They accuse me of being a fetishist, a race traitor, a degenerate. They toss words like "cuck," "whore," and worse into my inbox as if their cruelty could shame me back into silence. But what they're furious about isn't me. It's the shift I represent.
White male entitlement is deeply rooted in American culture — especially the belief that they are the standard, the pinnacle, the default. When someone like me publicly prefers something else, it shakes the illusion. And rather than reflect on that discomfort, they lash out.
That anger isn't just sexist. It's racist. And it's deeply tied to the broader ecosystem of online male grievance — the so-called "manosphere," where incels, red-pillers, and other fragile egos gather to bemoan a world they think owes them sex, love, and status.
They hate me not because I'm nonmonogamous. They hate me because I'm not choosing them.

No, We Are Not Genetically Different​

Let's make this clear: race is not biological. There are no inherent genetic differences that make one race superior to another.
In 2003, the Human Genome Project found that all humans share 99.9% of their DNA. The tiny percentage of variation among us does not correspond to traditional racial categories. Race, as science confirms, is a social construct—not a biological reality.
Source: Collins, F. S., et al. (2003). A Vision for the Future of Genomics Research. Genome.gov
So, if we talk about race, let's talk about power, history, and culture — not pseudoscience. Because white supremacy always tries to dress up its insecurity in the language of biology. But biology doesn't lie. Racists do.

To the Haters: This Isn't About You​

To the white men who feel personally attacked by my preference: ask yourselves why.
Why does my joy — my private desire made public — trigger such rage in you? Why does a woman choosing something different feel like a threat? The truth is, no one owes you desire. Not your race. Not your gender. Not your heritage. Certainly not me.
Your identity is not diminished because I find something else beautiful. Love is not a pie. More for someone else does not mean less for you.
If hearing me say I prefer Black men makes you seethe, you're not angry at me. You're angry that your world no longer centers you by default.
And to the women who feel curious, conflicted, or quietly affirmed by my words: trust yourself. Desire doesn't need justification, but it does deserve honesty. Ask yourself where your preferences come from. Learn. Listen. Be open. But don't let shame silence you.

Radical Love Is the Most Honest Kind​

I don't need permission to live this way. But I also won't pretend it's easy to speak openly when white fragility keeps raising its fists.
I live my truth not because it's provocative but it is mine. I believe in loving fully, rejecting fear, and claiming the kind of connection that feels most whole to me.
I'm not here to soothe bruised egos. I'm here to live freely. And that includes loving who I love, out loud, without apology.
Click to expand...
I think it’s absolutely Beautiful that you love Black Man and as I white man I am proud my wife loves the BBC and to hell with people that don’t like it it’s their lose
 
MsThang said:
Every time I mention — even casually — that I love Black men, I brace myself, not for confusion or curiosity, but for the heat of white male outrage. As a white woman in a consensually nonmonogamous marriage with my white husband, I've been open about my preferences: romantically, sexually, and emotionally, I'm drawn to Black men. And that single truth ignites more fury than my nonmonogamy ever does.
I want to talk about that.
This is not just about who I find attractive. It's about how white supremacy, patriarchal entitlement, and personal liberation all collide the moment a white woman says out loud: I choose something else.

From Racist Roots to Radical Rejection​

I grew up in a racist household. I wish I could soften that sentence, but I can't. The comments were casual and constant, the lines between "us" and "them" clearly drawn. But life, in its beautiful defiance, handed me a different story. My very first love—my first real, soul-shaking love—was a Black man. We were together for four years in college, and during that time, I was immersed in his world, his family, and his culture.
What I learned there, I could never unlearn.
The love was real, as was the community, and the quiet teachings about resilience, joy, pain, and pride were real. I began to see the world differently—not through a textbook or a tweet, but through lived intimate experiences. By the time that relationship ended, I had entirely rejected the racism I had been raised with, and I never looked back.

What Preference Means​

When I say I prefer Black men, I don't mean I've checked a box or assigned value by shade. I'm talking about how I feel in their presence — how I am seen, safe, and energized. Yes, I find Black men physically beautiful. But it's not just about appearance. It's how they express themselves — the confident, playful flirting they've mastered, the kind that's direct without being aggressive, sexy without being crude.
There's a kind of masculinity many Black men exude that's not performative but embodied—and it permits me to be entirely feminine. I don't have to fight to be heard or shrink to be desired. Too often, with white men, I'm either debating for my voice or managing their fragility. I feel invited to relax, glow, and be soft with Black men. There's room for me to exhale.
This isn't idealization. It's the emotional truth of where I feel most in balance.

The Rage of White Men — and Why It's So Loud​

Whenever I speak about this publicly — whether in writing or on my podcast — I'm met with a particular rage. Not from Black people. Not from women. But from white men.
They accuse me of being a fetishist, a race traitor, a degenerate. They toss words like "cuck," "whore," and worse into my inbox as if their cruelty could shame me back into silence. But what they're furious about isn't me. It's the shift I represent.
White male entitlement is deeply rooted in American culture — especially the belief that they are the standard, the pinnacle, the default. When someone like me publicly prefers something else, it shakes the illusion. And rather than reflect on that discomfort, they lash out.
That anger isn't just sexist. It's racist. And it's deeply tied to the broader ecosystem of online male grievance — the so-called "manosphere," where incels, red-pillers, and other fragile egos gather to bemoan a world they think owes them sex, love, and status.
They hate me not because I'm nonmonogamous. They hate me because I'm not choosing them.

No, We Are Not Genetically Different​

Let's make this clear: race is not biological. There are no inherent genetic differences that make one race superior to another.
In 2003, the Human Genome Project found that all humans share 99.9% of their DNA. The tiny percentage of variation among us does not correspond to traditional racial categories. Race, as science confirms, is a social construct—not a biological reality.
Source: Collins, F. S., et al. (2003). A Vision for the Future of Genomics Research. Genome.gov
So, if we talk about race, let's talk about power, history, and culture — not pseudoscience. Because white supremacy always tries to dress up its insecurity in the language of biology. But biology doesn't lie. Racists do.

To the Haters: This Isn't About You​

To the white men who feel personally attacked by my preference: ask yourselves why.
Why does my joy — my private desire made public — trigger such rage in you? Why does a woman choosing something different feel like a threat? The truth is, no one owes you desire. Not your race. Not your gender. Not your heritage. Certainly not me.
Your identity is not diminished because I find something else beautiful. Love is not a pie. More for someone else does not mean less for you.
If hearing me say I prefer Black men makes you seethe, you're not angry at me. You're angry that your world no longer centers you by default.
And to the women who feel curious, conflicted, or quietly affirmed by my words: trust yourself. Desire doesn't need justification, but it does deserve honesty. Ask yourself where your preferences come from. Learn. Listen. Be open. But don't let shame silence you.

Radical Love Is the Most Honest Kind​

I don't need permission to live this way. But I also won't pretend it's easy to speak openly when white fragility keeps raising its fists.
I live my truth not because it's provocative but it is mine. I believe in loving fully, rejecting fear, and claiming the kind of connection that feels most whole to me.
I'm not here to soothe bruised egos. I'm here to live freely. And that includes loving who I love, out loud, without apology.
Click to expand...
You ( and me) have the right to love anyone ( even yourself..)
I learned,the hard way , not to share my preference...
I almost lost my job,out of jealousy!!
Yes... people seam normal but some burn of jealousy!😔
 
MsThang said:
Every time I mention — even casually — that I love Black men, I brace myself, not for confusion or curiosity, but for the heat of white male outrage. As a white woman in a consensually nonmonogamous marriage with my white husband, I've been open about my preferences: romantically, sexually, and emotionally, I'm drawn to Black men. And that single truth ignites more fury than my nonmonogamy ever does.
I want to talk about that.
This is not just about who I find attractive. It's about how white supremacy, patriarchal entitlement, and personal liberation all collide the moment a white woman says out loud: I choose something else.

From Racist Roots to Radical Rejection​

I grew up in a racist household. I wish I could soften that sentence, but I can't. The comments were casual and constant, the lines between "us" and "them" clearly drawn. But life, in its beautiful defiance, handed me a different story. My very first love—my first real, soul-shaking love—was a Black man. We were together for four years in college, and during that time, I was immersed in his world, his family, and his culture.
What I learned there, I could never unlearn.
The love was real, as was the community, and the quiet teachings about resilience, joy, pain, and pride were real. I began to see the world differently—not through a textbook or a tweet, but through lived intimate experiences. By the time that relationship ended, I had entirely rejected the racism I had been raised with, and I never looked back.

What Preference Means​

When I say I prefer Black men, I don't mean I've checked a box or assigned value by shade. I'm talking about how I feel in their presence — how I am seen, safe, and energized. Yes, I find Black men physically beautiful. But it's not just about appearance. It's how they express themselves — the confident, playful flirting they've mastered, the kind that's direct without being aggressive, sexy without being crude.
There's a kind of masculinity many Black men exude that's not performative but embodied—and it permits me to be entirely feminine. I don't have to fight to be heard or shrink to be desired. Too often, with white men, I'm either debating for my voice or managing their fragility. I feel invited to relax, glow, and be soft with Black men. There's room for me to exhale.
This isn't idealization. It's the emotional truth of where I feel most in balance.

The Rage of White Men — and Why It's So Loud​

Whenever I speak about this publicly — whether in writing or on my podcast — I'm met with a particular rage. Not from Black people. Not from women. But from white men.
They accuse me of being a fetishist, a race traitor, a degenerate. They toss words like "cuck," "whore," and worse into my inbox as if their cruelty could shame me back into silence. But what they're furious about isn't me. It's the shift I represent.
White male entitlement is deeply rooted in American culture — especially the belief that they are the standard, the pinnacle, the default. When someone like me publicly prefers something else, it shakes the illusion. And rather than reflect on that discomfort, they lash out.
That anger isn't just sexist. It's racist. And it's deeply tied to the broader ecosystem of online male grievance — the so-called "manosphere," where incels, red-pillers, and other fragile egos gather to bemoan a world they think owes them sex, love, and status.
They hate me not because I'm nonmonogamous. They hate me because I'm not choosing them.

No, We Are Not Genetically Different​

Let's make this clear: race is not biological. There are no inherent genetic differences that make one race superior to another.
In 2003, the Human Genome Project found that all humans share 99.9% of their DNA. The tiny percentage of variation among us does not correspond to traditional racial categories. Race, as science confirms, is a social construct—not a biological reality.
Source: Collins, F. S., et al. (2003). A Vision for the Future of Genomics Research. Genome.gov
So, if we talk about race, let's talk about power, history, and culture — not pseudoscience. Because white supremacy always tries to dress up its insecurity in the language of biology. But biology doesn't lie. Racists do.

To the Haters: This Isn't About You​

To the white men who feel personally attacked by my preference: ask yourselves why.
Why does my joy — my private desire made public — trigger such rage in you? Why does a woman choosing something different feel like a threat? The truth is, no one owes you desire. Not your race. Not your gender. Not your heritage. Certainly not me.
Your identity is not diminished because I find something else beautiful. Love is not a pie. More for someone else does not mean less for you.
If hearing me say I prefer Black men makes you seethe, you're not angry at me. You're angry that your world no longer centers you by default.
And to the women who feel curious, conflicted, or quietly affirmed by my words: trust yourself. Desire doesn't need justification, but it does deserve honesty. Ask yourself where your preferences come from. Learn. Listen. Be open. But don't let shame silence you.

Radical Love Is the Most Honest Kind​

I don't need permission to live this way. But I also won't pretend it's easy to speak openly when white fragility keeps raising its fists.
I live my truth not because it's provocative but it is mine. I believe in loving fully, rejecting fear, and claiming the kind of connection that feels most whole to me.
I'm not here to soothe bruised egos. I'm here to live freely. And that includes loving who I love, out loud, without apology.
Click to expand...
That’s so cool to read… true black lover
 
MsThang said:
Every time I mention — even casually — that I love Black men, I brace myself, not for confusion or curiosity, but for the heat of white male outrage. As a white woman in a consensually nonmonogamous marriage with my white husband, I've been open about my preferences: romantically, sexually, and emotionally, I'm drawn to Black men. And that single truth ignites more fury than my nonmonogamy ever does.
I want to talk about that.
This is not just about who I find attractive. It's about how white supremacy, patriarchal entitlement, and personal liberation all collide the moment a white woman says out loud: I choose something else.

From Racist Roots to Radical Rejection​

I grew up in a racist household. I wish I could soften that sentence, but I can't. The comments were casual and constant, the lines between "us" and "them" clearly drawn. But life, in its beautiful defiance, handed me a different story. My very first love—my first real, soul-shaking love—was a Black man. We were together for four years in college, and during that time, I was immersed in his world, his family, and his culture.
What I learned there, I could never unlearn.
The love was real, as was the community, and the quiet teachings about resilience, joy, pain, and pride were real. I began to see the world differently—not through a textbook or a tweet, but through lived intimate experiences. By the time that relationship ended, I had entirely rejected the racism I had been raised with, and I never looked back.

What Preference Means​

When I say I prefer Black men, I don't mean I've checked a box or assigned value by shade. I'm talking about how I feel in their presence — how I am seen, safe, and energized. Yes, I find Black men physically beautiful. But it's not just about appearance. It's how they express themselves — the confident, playful flirting they've mastered, the kind that's direct without being aggressive, sexy without being crude.
There's a kind of masculinity many Black men exude that's not performative but embodied—and it permits me to be entirely feminine. I don't have to fight to be heard or shrink to be desired. Too often, with white men, I'm either debating for my voice or managing their fragility. I feel invited to relax, glow, and be soft with Black men. There's room for me to exhale.
This isn't idealization. It's the emotional truth of where I feel most in balance.

The Rage of White Men — and Why It's So Loud​

Whenever I speak about this publicly — whether in writing or on my podcast — I'm met with a particular rage. Not from Black people. Not from women. But from white men.
They accuse me of being a fetishist, a race traitor, a degenerate. They toss words like "cuck," "whore," and worse into my inbox as if their cruelty could shame me back into silence. But what they're furious about isn't me. It's the shift I represent.
White male entitlement is deeply rooted in American culture — especially the belief that they are the standard, the pinnacle, the default. When someone like me publicly prefers something else, it shakes the illusion. And rather than reflect on that discomfort, they lash out.
That anger isn't just sexist. It's racist. And it's deeply tied to the broader ecosystem of online male grievance — the so-called "manosphere," where incels, red-pillers, and other fragile egos gather to bemoan a world they think owes them sex, love, and status.
They hate me not because I'm nonmonogamous. They hate me because I'm not choosing them.

No, We Are Not Genetically Different​

Let's make this clear: race is not biological. There are no inherent genetic differences that make one race superior to another.
In 2003, the Human Genome Project found that all humans share 99.9% of their DNA. The tiny percentage of variation among us does not correspond to traditional racial categories. Race, as science confirms, is a social construct—not a biological reality.
Source: Collins, F. S., et al. (2003). A Vision for the Future of Genomics Research. Genome.gov
So, if we talk about race, let's talk about power, history, and culture — not pseudoscience. Because white supremacy always tries to dress up its insecurity in the language of biology. But biology doesn't lie. Racists do.

To the Haters: This Isn't About You​

To the white men who feel personally attacked by my preference: ask yourselves why.
Why does my joy — my private desire made public — trigger such rage in you? Why does a woman choosing something different feel like a threat? The truth is, no one owes you desire. Not your race. Not your gender. Not your heritage. Certainly not me.
Your identity is not diminished because I find something else beautiful. Love is not a pie. More for someone else does not mean less for you.
If hearing me say I prefer Black men makes you seethe, you're not angry at me. You're angry that your world no longer centers you by default.
And to the women who feel curious, conflicted, or quietly affirmed by my words: trust yourself. Desire doesn't need justification, but it does deserve honesty. Ask yourself where your preferences come from. Learn. Listen. Be open. But don't let shame silence you.

Radical Love Is the Most Honest Kind​

I don't need permission to live this way. But I also won't pretend it's easy to speak openly when white fragility keeps raising its fists.
I live my truth not because it's provocative but it is mine. I believe in loving fully, rejecting fear, and claiming the kind of connection that feels most whole to me.
I'm not here to soothe bruised egos. I'm here to live freely. And that includes loving who I love, out loud, without apology.
Click to expand...
Wow! That's a very Extremely great and brutally honest and forthcoming with the deepest passion of the way you feel about the interracial lifestyle and the Incredible way you are so extremely hated and rejected by the white Men and I have alot of experiences with the similar ways of your experiences with knowing that your 100% factual in your definition of understanding in the way you are easily aware that most people are not able to come close to understanding the meaning or grasping the concept of the way you are sharing your experiences with the community. You are so knowledgeable and very understanding and you are going to be okay I have no doubts whatsoever. God bless you and you enjoy your night Beautiful!
 
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