A Black Lesbian Holiday

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The world is such a strange place. And the things people do never cease to amaze me. Seriously. I sometimes wonder if there is something in the water supply of certain cities and towns which makes men and women do all the crazy things they do. It cannot be randomness or dumb luck. I refuse to believe it. My name is Karina Brown and I am a psychology student at the University of Fulton in the city of Boston, Massachusetts.

When I first came to Fulton University, I was an enthusiastic young black woman beginning her journey through higher education. The world-famous Fulton University seemed promising. Located in southeastern Massachusetts, this small private school with only fourteen thousand students was rapidly expanding. It was ranked among the top one hundred schools in America for African-Americans. Fulton University’s student body was wonderfully diverse. The profile described the campus as evenly split between men and women. Forty eight percent of the students were black or Hispanic. Fifty percent were white. Two percent were Asian. Sounds good to me.

I graduated from Brockton Community High School in the summer of 2006. I opted for Fulton University because they were offering me a student-athlete scholarship for Soccer. My parents wanted me to go to Boston College but BC wasn’t interested in me. Neither was Northeastern or UMass-Amherst for that matter. Fulton University had recently started men’s and women’s varsity Soccer teams. They already had excellent programs in men’s and women’s Basketball, men’s and women’s Rifle, coed Archery, men’s and women’s Lacrosse, coed Rowing, men’s and women’s Ice Hockey, men’s Baseball and women’s Softball, coed Wrestling, men’s and women’s Cycling, coed Gymnastics, men’s and women’s Water Polo, coed Fencing, men’s Football, men’s and women’s Sailing, men’s and women’s Rugby, women’s Equestrian, men’s and women’s Swimming and men’s and women’s Volleyball. The NCAA ranked Fulton University among the top fifty schools in Division One athletics.

Thus began my journey. In September 2006, I moved into the dormitory at Sutton Hall in downtown Boston, the only all-female dorm at the school. Only a few blocks away was Washington Hall, the only all-male dormitory on campus. Both were considered the last vestiges of a bygone age. The school’s remaining twenty dormitory buildings were all coed. A lot of people think that being a gay tunceli escort black woman in an all-female and mostly white environment is a good thing. It really isn’t. You won’t believe how much hidden homophobia there is among women. They are less vocal about it than men, but far more vicious. My roommate was a young woman named Bridget Sanders. She came from North Jersey. I wish I could say we got along, but that would be a lie.

On the surface, Bridget and I seemed like we were the same kind of people. I stand six feet two inches tall, heavyset and dark-skinned, with long black hair which I braid into neat cornrows. I love Soccer more than I love oxygen. I’m also openly gay. I don’t hide who I am for nobody. My father, Leonard Brown and his partner, Lloyd Jefferson, taught me better than that. Being the black lesbian daughter of a black gay male household certainly made me different. I tease my older brother Jackson, who plays Soccer for Tufts University, because he’s the only heterosexual person in our family. That makes him the black sheep. All kidding aside, I love my big brother. I am proud of my family. A lot of people I’ve met had a problem with me because I was raised by gay black men. One lesbian chick I dated found my family odd. If a chick can’t handle the men in my life ( my fathers and brother ) then she’s got to go. Family first, always. I don’t compromise myself for anyone.

My roommate Bridget Sanders was a biracial gal from the big city. The privileged daughter of an African-American mother who was a wealthy businesswoman and a white father who was a career military man. This six-foot-tall, curvy, light-bronze-skinned sister was very loud and opinionated. I hate loud women. And I don’t care what ethnicity they affiliate with. I am not a loud person. I can and do speak my mind. And I’ve rarely met anyone foolish enough to make me repeat myself. Bridget Sanders seemed to me like a pampered chick. One of those rich broads who think money grows on trees. Not the kind of person I respect.

Fulton University is a wealthy private school with an annual endowment of three billion dollars. That does not mean all of the students were rich. Student-athletes like myself are usually the most broke people on campus. NCAA rules prevent sportsmen and sportswomen at Division One schools from receiving special treatment. They don’t allow tunceli escort bayan us to work except maybe for a school internship thing or a work-study type of deal. If we violate the rules and get caught, the whole athletic department could be fined and the individual who broke the rules would get his or her ass thrown out of school. Sad, but true.

Bridget Sanders was a pampered bitch who spent money like it was going out of style. I mean, she would always go shopping and return to the dorm with like twelve hundred dollars worth of stuff. In this economy, I think even rich people are toning down their spending. Yet Bridget didn’t seem to realize that or care. I am not jealous of her. I just wish someone would shake that bratty bitch and knock some sense into her. She’s like the biracial version of Paris Hilton, folks. Her parents were filthy rich and she seemed hell-bent on partying hard and drinking her way into an early grave. My father taught me that the weak deserve their fate. I agree with him. Fools like Bridget Sanders got what they deserved sooner or later.

One night, I came home to find the dorm in disarray. Young men and women were dancing and drinking while loud music played. What the fuck? The dorm rules strictly forbid drinking on the premises! I looked for the person responsible for throwing the party and, lo and behold, the culprit was none other than Bridget Sanders. I confronted her about it. Bridget shoved her hand in front of my face and told me to chill. Oh, no she didn’t! Before I knew it, I was smacking the shit out of her and she was whimpering like a little bitch. It took three grown men to pull me off her. I guess I lost it there for a bit, but she had it coming!

The next day, I was summoned to the Dean’s Office. The Dean of Students was this really nice guy named Jim. He used to be my advisor a while ago. I explained the situation to him. He talked to the Head of Student Housing and they solved the problem by sending me to Scott’s Hall, a coed dorm a few blocks away from my old one. I didn’t care, as long as I didn’t run into Bridget Sanders and her groupies. I was a little nervous about meeting my new roommate. But I soon found out I was nervous about nothing.

My new roommate was a five-foot-ten, thick-bodied, red-haired and green-eyed chick from my neck of the woods. Eileen O’Shea was her escort tunceli name and she came from East Bridgewater. She transferred from to Fulton University from Bridgewater State College and had received a student-athlete scholarship to play for the women’s rugby team. This chick looked real familiar. I soon found out why. We played against each other on the soccer field a few years back. Brockton versus Bridgewater. We lost that day, but I assured Eileen there were no hard feelings.

Eileen and I had far more in common either of us initially realized. We were both student-athletes from neighboring towns. Also, we were both queer. I’d been out and proud as a black lesbian all my life, benefit of being raised by two gay black men. Eileen was out too, and her Irish-Catholic parents were struggling with the truth that their daughter would never marry someone of the opposite sex. Personally, I don’t know what the fuss is about. A gay son or lesbian daughter can still marry and do the whole family in the suburbs thing just like heterosexuals do. My parents did it, and they’re both gay men! I told Eileen this one evening while she was feeling down about herself. She laughed, and so did I. From that moment on, we were the best of friends.

We hung out together in the city. Sometimes, we went to catch a movie at Loews theater in downtown Boston. I was pleased to discover that Eileen like science fiction movies and action flicks as much as I do. I’m a gay black woman who hates chick flicks. Needless to say, the women I befriend find me weird. Yeah, Eileen was cool. When Christmas Break came, since her folks went to New Mexico for a little vacation, I invited her to spend Christmas with me and the family.

Thus, I finally came home with a nice ‘date’. My fathers, Leonard Brown and Lloyd Jefferson, were thrilled to meet my new friend. They found Eileen charming. My brother Jackson Brown also brought home a friend. A short but pretty Asian chick he introduced as Gina Chang, his girlfriend at Tufts University. Well, that was a surprise. Gina Chang was surprisingly nice. She majored in medicine and was bright, articulate and friendly. I congratulated Jackson on finally meeting someone who was okay. My brother has a nasty habit of only dating sluts. It’s not his fault. He tends to fall for those bed-hopping, tiny-brained individuals known as college sports groupies.

As I sat there next to Eileen, I thanked God for His blessings. I’m a gay black woman whose best friend is a gay white chick. And my parents are two gay black men. And my brother is a straight black guy who’s dating a pretty but nerdy Asian chick. Isn’t life funny? I’m home for the holidays with those I love. Life is good.

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