My relationship is my favorite thing about me. That might sound a bit cliché, but it is. My boyfriend Brandon cares for me and is very respectable, but that’s not what this post about. This post is about something very different from how great he is (even though I could go on and on about that topic).

The first outing that my boyfriend and I really had was when I went to church with him. Going to church and sharing God with someone who you really care about is magnificent. While I was there, I bonded with his mother and met some of their church friends. Their church is very tight knit and I loved them immediately. I really hope that the feeling was reciprocated (most likely it was because I’m a catch). Anyway, after church they usually go out to eat, catch up on their weeks, and laugh about how life is treating each of them. So I go with them because Brandon wanted me to be able to bond with his mother some more and his church family. Who am I to say no?

We went to Babe's. I had only been here one previous time and I loved it.

It’s a Sunday in January and it’s freezing cold. Babe’s waiting area is outside, where they have a few heaters and a lot of hungry people. We waited for a while and then went in, had our lunch, and laughed for few hours. It was great. I felt such a strong attachment to Brandon at that point when he let me in.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the story that I wanted to tell.

The story actually starts as we are leaving Babe's. His mother stays to pay for us and she tells Brandon and I to wait outside for her, which we don’t mind doing since we needed a chance to talk in private about everything that happened.

We walk out of the restaurant and there are a group of black boys outside who were around our age. They glanced at Brandon and I and then to each other and they began laughing. For some reason, my heart began to sink. My first instinct was to turn and say something to them, but my very respectable boyfriend pulled me by the hand out from under their eyes.

I was amazed. No, I was surprised that that was the reaction that was held by my own kind and then it dawned on me: I am a black woman who is dating a white male and, for some reason, that has got to be the funniest thing to black men. I am with a man who I enjoy, who makes me laugh, and who respects me for who I am and not what I have to offer. I didn’t know that it was funny to mock someone’s relationship because it’s not what they had in mind for me.

It also boggles me because black boys love to date outside of their race and then shame their own black women. So when a black woman chooses to date a white man or a Hispanic man, it is funny and it’s also terrible that a black woman would “date outside of their race.” It shocks me that they aren’t happy that we could find someone who loves us for us. The only thing that matters is making a joke out if it and then shaming their own kind.

It should stop. There’s no reason why everyone can’t be happy with who they are with or who they think would treat them right. There’s no reason. There shouldn’t be this divide between our us. We should be trying to uplift one another with each accomplishment. There should be no reason why black women can’t date outside of their race just like many black men do.

What’s the actual difference?