To be loved by a Black woman is to be loved by an eternal source of joy, creation, and stimulation. Her love is as endless as the sea. Her eyes are the gatekeepers to a whimsical wonderland, flush with the aroma of your favorite meal and memories. Her aura shines as bright as the morning sun. Her warm embrace can soothe the most rugged and wretched corners of our inner selves. She can make time stand still with a simple glance.
Have you ever honestly peered into her eyes and bore witness to all she is, all she was, all she had to and continues to endure just to be in her skin, to live and love as a Black woman? With each breath she takes, with every word she utters, she is breathing life into you, into us, into the soil of our souls. Her story is our history. We have her to thank for the richness of life and the memories we hold so dear in our hearts. Have you ever met someone so selfless yet so self-assured? She is regal by nature, for it is her birthright. So to be loved by one is one of the grandest delights and wonders this life could ever offer.
To be loved by a Black woman is to be loved by life itself. The world is not as heavy when sharing your heart with her, not because she is carrying the weight for you, but because she can lighten the heaviest of loads with three simple words - “I got you.” When she got you, all you want to do is give her every piece of you - mind, body, and soul. Loving a Black woman is an honor I am personally blessed with and cherish more and more each waking day.
My wife and I cried together in bed one morning this week. We were both filled with so much gratitude for where we found ourselves at that moment. It was a moment where the essence of love unveiled itself. We were so inextricably connected as partners, as lovers, as genuinely kindred spirits. It was a feeling that swelled up in the depths of my body. We were spellbound, freed to frolic joyously together throughout the vast valley of love’s most precious intimacies.
I am loved by a Black woman. Life could never be better.
