Before I go in too deep about the artist I met, I find it very important to give my understanding of what an artist is to me (yes I used google) - “An artist is a person engaged in one or more of any of a broad spectrum of activities related to creating art”. The artist who happened to capture my attention, which isn’t an easy thing to do might I add, was a short male who happened to be skinny. My observation was from a distance. I couldn’t quite determine their ethnicity, their hair was cut short so that didn’t help at all. I could tell you that I liked his style, very simple yet effective; he wore a white shirt with blue jeans slim fit. I was sure he was light skinned (by this I mean mixed raced) but for me there is something about a black light-skinned that gives him an edge over a mixed race one. Purely that a black man understands the full extent of the black struggle not half of it. Honestly forgot to mention I am about average height an estimation of about 1,62. Natural hair (pats Afro) all the way dark skinned so my melanin pops and breakdances. Probably tell I’ve really been watching too many American shows and spending too much time on social media. Which might seem bad, but it isn’t because I have actually loved myself a bit more. Seeing how dark skinned women are usually treated, how they stand up for themselves has been truly inspiring. Now making my way to him, I got closer. I was instantly let down realizing he was not black, my entire approach switched in an instant. Not sure if he was looking at me or past me, so I turned around to make sure there wasn’t anyone more attractive than me who could have caught his eye. All I saw was an imaginary mirror of myself telling me that, “that man is yours”. Loving the fact he took care of himself by the details of his trimmed beard. Fresh brush cut, sigh of relief he doesn’t have a fade or I would assume the worst about him. Before I wanted to pretend I didn’t see him and walk past not trying to make the first move; a gentle touch followed by a smile dammit why why why why did you have to smile
“Hi”
“Hello, before you carry on I would like to tell you that I am not an easy target. Oh you saw a dark skinned girl and you assumed based on your skin being light I’ll be swooned by you. As society assumes ebony and ivory make for a perfect combination and you want to look like you are pro-black by being into black girls. More specifically a dark skinned one as your friends will be like, oh we are glad you can tell the true beauty of a black woman. Only when you are with a dark skinned one, as we are not seen as equals of beauty to the lighter skin girls. Who can turn the room’s attention with her subtle glow, now you have me believing that I possess such glow. Might I add, I know how I look and that is enough for me. I determine my glow and sir, does it glow.”
His face looked more puzzled than anything. I could have been someone he wanted to put together or came across as a very angry black woman who fit into what society expects from us.
“All I was going to say was your bag is open”
Come on he can’t possibly believe I am that stupid to believe, oh shit it’s actually open. I convinced and came up with a whole ideal up of an artist falling for me. Showing belligerent behavior to a total stranger, what a way to start your morning Eleanor. As you could probably tell I tend to overstep boundaries, I’ve been in one for too long anyway I’m still finding my way.
“Oh my, I really am sorry now I have come across as this imperious person to you. Was probably because I saw you looking at me and thought hey I could be someone you want. That you can truly see beauty which isn’t engraved in you how; I could be beautiful "for a dark skinned woman” lol you probably think I love myself. Which wouldn’t be wrong, I also love all aspects of myself. Oh my name is Eleanor"
“Hello I go by the name of Theodore, my friends prefer Theo. You can call me what you want”
“As long as I am calling”
“What?”
He doesn’t seem to know the Drake line, this could be a good thing as it shows that there isn’t much commercial knowledge of him.
“It’s a line by some singer rapper, very confused guy.
"So Eleanor since you bullied me and assumed to know my tastes in terms of how I define beauty. How about you tell what I am about? That’s if you still want to undermine how excellent black women are to me. Assume I can’t see beauty for what it is which happens to be you.”
Play it cool. Play it cool don’t blush don’t blush, but how could I not did you guys hear what he said? Those brown eyes looking at me. All while he had this shy approach why are mixed race boys a cheat code dammit.
“First what do you actually do?”
“Well I am studying Dramatic arts but I’m a visual art as well, I draw, paint the works. What about yourself?
"I simply studying a general BA with my major being English, trying to be a journalist but in no rush with the regard”
“Not as exciting as I thought you would be, I’m not let down don’t get me wrong. I don’t know I expected more from you is all. Anyway, I suck at doing dates because I’m not a fan of crowds. Feel I can hardly get to know someone when we are surrounded by people, constantly going past us at the same time. My place would be ideal since you have gathered I am not into much commercial music. I can show you my Vinyl collection. My place is at Broadway, not so far from Campus. Take my number and we will see if you really want to see me.”
Trying not to be offended by him saying he expected more from me, which wasn’t totally that bad as I expect a lot from myself as well. I didn’t want to seem to eager.
“7pm will do fine”
“Won’t that be too late for you?”
“I’m a big girl, I’ll manage”
We hugged and I took his number. I wouldn’t play, I would very much go to his place later today.
To be honest making my way out of campus, I really didn’t know what to expect. Okay okay I’m lying, what I did expect was a very messy apartment as the general stereotype of an artist is a person who has their art around them always trying to finish this drawing or that painting. All the while I was thinking about this, not paying attention to the road I hear a hoot coming my way. Quickly looking left I see an oncoming taxi as I jump ahead all I heard was “better move jou shit” talk about anger issues. Never get why Taxi drivers are so aggressive, guess the need for money will make anyone lose their minds eventually. Having already been to Broadway before, I remembered their stupid sign-in rule. Where the person who lived here had to come down. Meaning I had to call Theo
“Hello”
“It is Eleanor please come down”
“It’s half 6 you are a bit early but you will mind the mess then”
Knew it! I called it. Some stereotypes always fit the bill, my instincts were right. The security guard gave me a disappointed look when I told him where I was going. To be honest I was tentative about whether or not to ask about his previous encounters. Would probably put myself through unnecessary pain. He opened the door and greeted the security guard, who ignored him as I went through the door.
“He doesn’t seem to like you much”
“Yeah well I got with a girl who he had a crush on, go figure”
Not sure if that statement impressed me based on the pure honesty or I was a bit irked by how casual he was about it. In the elevator I tried not looking at him, having been pressed up against the wall near the buttons he came across me to press 13 then went to the opposite end of the wall. Trying not to look at him directly as I would have been gripped by his charm. I then opted to look at the mirror, as I was about to catch him staring at me, the lift opened. He led the way, we passed a door in a passage which wasn’t really needed. We stopped at the first door on the left; number 1301. My excitement died instantly. Granted the room was very spacious with a huge living area. His bed was on the left with no door, which led into the bathroom. There was a beautiful view of the city where he probably fucked a lot of girls there. What I was let down by, was a lack of a mess from an artist. Granted there were paintings on the wall. A few quotes by Einstein and a Malcolm X picture, but his own art was so well placed in a corner near the balcony. Having researched artists such as Francis Bacon (who enveloped himself in a mess which fueled his art) All of the surroundings made me wonder how good of an artist he was
“For an artist your place is very clean. To be honest I expected a mess, all I see are dishes that haven’t done.”
“I opted to keep my surroundings clean after I have completed a set of drawings. The reason why I said it was a bit of a mess was because I was completing a piece inspired by you”
I was already a muse. I couldn’t show my excitement as I didn’t want to give him an idea that he had power over me.
“What about me inspired it? How quick are you at sketching, I only met you today”
“I left campus as soon as we finished that’s why I wanted it to be 7pm. The piece is about the whole dark skinned notion of beauty”
“Show me… Let me see”
It was covered behind a white robe and I wish it stayed that way when he showed me.
“What the entire fuck is that??”
Trying my best to not blow a fuse as to what I am currently being shown
“Woah woah I thought you would appreciate it”
Before the conversation continues I would like to describe the painting to you. The picture was a girl who was light skinned shedding into a dark skinned woman. The title was ‘true essence of beauty’.
“Dude, No. No. No. This was not what I meant about beauty. Being a beautiful woman shouldn’t be determined by skin. What this shows is that in order for a dark skinned woman to be seen as beautiful you have to get rid of a lighter skin for the beauty to be truly seen. Which is not the point. Beauty shouldn’t have a preference which tends to happen in the way you would see dark skinned models less favored compared to lighter skinned ones. It is called privilege and it isn’t the fault of those who have it, no. The problem here is society and how they perceive and favor one shade from another. You simply don’t get that Theodore with a name that sounds like your parents wanted you to fit into any box society will let you into.”
After my great monologue I left crying proving my point how mixed race boys simple don’t get it. Making me wonder which man will ever get a woman like me…
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