Gawker recently published an article by Ernest Baker titled, “The Reality of Dating White Women When You’re Black.” In the piece Baker explains, at length, his reasons for only dating White women which boils down to the fact that he was an awkward, Black Boy Nerd and White girls were the only ones who showed him romantic interest.
Initially the article annoyed me—why would I want to read page after page of a Black man claiming Black women weren’t good enough? But when I moved beyond my emotions and Mr. Baker’s contradictory explanation, I was more concerned with his experience as a Black Boy Nerd and the reality that he had a difficult time with Black girls because they probably were more attracted to the Thug/Bad Boy types.
This led me to think about my teenage years and my investment in the Thug/Bad Boy fantasy. During the 90s, Thug Life seemed like the only viable way a Black man could prove his masculinity. I’m speaking in generalities of course; nevertheless, I remember salivating over music videos that showcased the Thug who loved his ride-or-die chick. Jay-Z, Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Nas and countless other Hip Hop artists reinforced gender stereotypes by portraying themselves as hyper-masculine men who took charge of their destinies. In addition to 90s music, there were also television shows that reinforced the Thug/Bad Boy fantasy; for example, Carrie and Mr. Big on Sex and the City, Angela and Jordan Catalano on My So-Called Life, and countless gangster movies. These shows glorified the Thug/Bad Boy, characterizing him as dark, complicated and smoldering, but upon further inspection he was just an elusive commitment phobe. By consuming these images as a teenager, I shaped my perception of masculinity; therefore, when it came time to date, I was drawn to the emotionally-stunted Thug instead of the awkward, Black Boy Nerd.
As I got older, my addiction to the Thug matured; to me, he was a challenge—someone I thought I could change and help recognize his potential. I wanted to inspire, motivate and love this man; even as he withheld his emotions, I yearned for more. I felt like if I earned his love that somehow I was validated—I was the one woman who could get him to emotionally open and commit. It didn’t occur to me until later that my romantic wires were crossed.
We were taught as little girls that if a boy liked us, he showed it by being a jerk. It stands to reason, like the book “He’s Just Not that Into You” explores, that that particular belief causes us to mistake guys’ bad behavior for affection. Think about it: if he doesn’t text right away, he’s elusive, he’s kind of snarky or an outright jerk, we find ourselves more attracted to him. Meanwhile, I wasn’t attracted to the nerdy Ernest Bakers/Steve Urkels of the world; Mr. Nice Guy in the form of a Black Boy Nerd didn’t cause my heart to go pitter-patter. He was “nice” not dangerous and somehow I perceived that as a weakness instead of strength. Enter the age-old saying: Nice guys finish last. I’m ashamed to admit, my “attraction” to the Thug was hardwired into my romantic system, leading me down a path of rejection and heartbreak.
It wasn’t until my 30s that I began questioning my line of thinking in terms of Thugs and Black Boy Nerds; I started to wonder what the Thug brought to the table. Who was he aside from smoldering good looks, stilted conversation and emotional closed-off-ness? Once I stripped away the fantasy, I realized he was a scared little boy, acting out by withholding affection and commitment and I was a scared little girl accepting his bad behavior because I didn’t think I deserved better.
The cycle had to stop.
The awkward, Black Boy Nerd is a rare creature; he isn’t the epitome of masculinity, especially the hyper-masculine Thug of the 90s. He’s considerate, sweet and romantic. He holds your hand during a movie. He probably doesn’t have tattoos or has been in a fight; he laughs at nerdy things, and he’s confident in his intellect and abilities. Is he perfect? No—especially if he’s dated girls who didn’t appreciate him. But ultimately I think he’s more willing to take a chance on something meaningful instead of the Thug/Bad Boy type who manages to elude commitment.
The more I embraced being a Black Girl Nerd, the more I discovered I wanted a Black Boy Nerd of my own. I was tired of the dark, brooding, emotional terrorism of the Thug. I rethought my archaic ideals surrounding masculinity, which helped me to embrace the type of guy that worked for me, not against me. I’m not saying Black Boy Nerds can’t hurt us, but I do think they’re worth getting to know. In addition, I understand we all have a “type” and that we’re comfortable submitting to our romantic wiring, but I believe we can benefit from taking on alternative perspectives and questioning our ideals. This includes awkward, Black Boy Nerds who feel they can only find viable romantic relationships with White women.
By re-examining my stance on masculinity and what I’m “attracted” to, I’m able to appreciate the uniqueness of the Black Boy Nerd. Here’s someone I can be myself with; I can nerd-out on Game of Thrones and Harry Potter. I can snort when I laugh, or freak out over traffic; we can spend the evening inside watching documentaries on Netflix or explore a quiet bookstore downtown. Instead of mysterious and laconic, he’s nervous and available—and to me, it’s adorable.
Awkward, Black Boy Nerds give us the freedom to walk in our authenticity and we do the same for them. Here, our quirks and peccadillos are appreciated, not judged. As a BGN who was definitely addicted to the Thug/Bad Boy, it’s refreshing to experience another side of dating—one with sweet available guys who are interested in getting to know me instead of wasting my time. Yes, he may be awkward but I’ll let you in on a little secret—so am I.
About Chantell Monique
Chantell Monique is a Creative Writing instructor and screenwriter, living in Los Angeles. She holds a MA in English from Indiana University, South Bend. She’s a Black Girl Nerd who’s addicted to Harry Potter, Netflix and anything pertaining to social justice, and female representation in film and television. Twitter @31pottergirl
Tweets with replies by Chantell Monique (@31pottergirl) on Twitter
http://blackgirlnerds.com/the-awkward-black-boy-nerd-and-why-he-deserves-a-chance-2/
Now that she's old and washed up she don't want thugs
I doubt that she really likes "nerdy" black men, she just doesn't want white women to have them.
Initially the article annoyed me—why would I want to read page after page of a Black man claiming Black women weren’t good enough? But when I moved beyond my emotions and Mr. Baker’s contradictory explanation, I was more concerned with his experience as a Black Boy Nerd and the reality that he had a difficult time with Black girls because they probably were more attracted to the Thug/Bad Boy types.
This led me to think about my teenage years and my investment in the Thug/Bad Boy fantasy. During the 90s, Thug Life seemed like the only viable way a Black man could prove his masculinity. I’m speaking in generalities of course; nevertheless, I remember salivating over music videos that showcased the Thug who loved his ride-or-die chick. Jay-Z, Notorious B.I.G., Tupac, Nas and countless other Hip Hop artists reinforced gender stereotypes by portraying themselves as hyper-masculine men who took charge of their destinies. In addition to 90s music, there were also television shows that reinforced the Thug/Bad Boy fantasy; for example, Carrie and Mr. Big on Sex and the City, Angela and Jordan Catalano on My So-Called Life, and countless gangster movies. These shows glorified the Thug/Bad Boy, characterizing him as dark, complicated and smoldering, but upon further inspection he was just an elusive commitment phobe. By consuming these images as a teenager, I shaped my perception of masculinity; therefore, when it came time to date, I was drawn to the emotionally-stunted Thug instead of the awkward, Black Boy Nerd.
As I got older, my addiction to the Thug matured; to me, he was a challenge—someone I thought I could change and help recognize his potential. I wanted to inspire, motivate and love this man; even as he withheld his emotions, I yearned for more. I felt like if I earned his love that somehow I was validated—I was the one woman who could get him to emotionally open and commit. It didn’t occur to me until later that my romantic wires were crossed.
We were taught as little girls that if a boy liked us, he showed it by being a jerk. It stands to reason, like the book “He’s Just Not that Into You” explores, that that particular belief causes us to mistake guys’ bad behavior for affection. Think about it: if he doesn’t text right away, he’s elusive, he’s kind of snarky or an outright jerk, we find ourselves more attracted to him. Meanwhile, I wasn’t attracted to the nerdy Ernest Bakers/Steve Urkels of the world; Mr. Nice Guy in the form of a Black Boy Nerd didn’t cause my heart to go pitter-patter. He was “nice” not dangerous and somehow I perceived that as a weakness instead of strength. Enter the age-old saying: Nice guys finish last. I’m ashamed to admit, my “attraction” to the Thug was hardwired into my romantic system, leading me down a path of rejection and heartbreak.
It wasn’t until my 30s that I began questioning my line of thinking in terms of Thugs and Black Boy Nerds; I started to wonder what the Thug brought to the table. Who was he aside from smoldering good looks, stilted conversation and emotional closed-off-ness? Once I stripped away the fantasy, I realized he was a scared little boy, acting out by withholding affection and commitment and I was a scared little girl accepting his bad behavior because I didn’t think I deserved better.
The cycle had to stop.
The awkward, Black Boy Nerd is a rare creature; he isn’t the epitome of masculinity, especially the hyper-masculine Thug of the 90s. He’s considerate, sweet and romantic. He holds your hand during a movie. He probably doesn’t have tattoos or has been in a fight; he laughs at nerdy things, and he’s confident in his intellect and abilities. Is he perfect? No—especially if he’s dated girls who didn’t appreciate him. But ultimately I think he’s more willing to take a chance on something meaningful instead of the Thug/Bad Boy type who manages to elude commitment.
The more I embraced being a Black Girl Nerd, the more I discovered I wanted a Black Boy Nerd of my own. I was tired of the dark, brooding, emotional terrorism of the Thug. I rethought my archaic ideals surrounding masculinity, which helped me to embrace the type of guy that worked for me, not against me. I’m not saying Black Boy Nerds can’t hurt us, but I do think they’re worth getting to know. In addition, I understand we all have a “type” and that we’re comfortable submitting to our romantic wiring, but I believe we can benefit from taking on alternative perspectives and questioning our ideals. This includes awkward, Black Boy Nerds who feel they can only find viable romantic relationships with White women.
By re-examining my stance on masculinity and what I’m “attracted” to, I’m able to appreciate the uniqueness of the Black Boy Nerd. Here’s someone I can be myself with; I can nerd-out on Game of Thrones and Harry Potter. I can snort when I laugh, or freak out over traffic; we can spend the evening inside watching documentaries on Netflix or explore a quiet bookstore downtown. Instead of mysterious and laconic, he’s nervous and available—and to me, it’s adorable.
Awkward, Black Boy Nerds give us the freedom to walk in our authenticity and we do the same for them. Here, our quirks and peccadillos are appreciated, not judged. As a BGN who was definitely addicted to the Thug/Bad Boy, it’s refreshing to experience another side of dating—one with sweet available guys who are interested in getting to know me instead of wasting my time. Yes, he may be awkward but I’ll let you in on a little secret—so am I.
About Chantell Monique
Chantell Monique is a Creative Writing instructor and screenwriter, living in Los Angeles. She holds a MA in English from Indiana University, South Bend. She’s a Black Girl Nerd who’s addicted to Harry Potter, Netflix and anything pertaining to social justice, and female representation in film and television. Twitter @31pottergirl
Tweets with replies by Chantell Monique (@31pottergirl) on Twitter
http://blackgirlnerds.com/the-awkward-black-boy-nerd-and-why-he-deserves-a-chance-2/
Now that she's old and washed up she don't want thugs
I doubt that she really likes "nerdy" black men, she just doesn't want white women to have them.
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U neggin ass sneak dissin ass hoe.
