Let’s keep this short and simple.
Kismet’s doppleganger is a black female professional. She has a conference in European City X. She decides to invite her lover along. Her lover is a black man. Her lover is a professional in his own right. He is excited about the prospect.
She knows other frequent flying professional types. He knows other frequent flying professional types. He decides to check in with said frequent flying professional types to see if they know any like minds in European City X who might be willing to spare a room or a couch and share a few meals. He gets a hit–Frequent Flyer Homeboy Number One is down for the cause and happy to help.
Her: “Great! In fact, whether or not you’re able to go, I could use HN1’s help with my next trip. Pass along the information when you have a chance.”
Him: “So you can stay with some dude when you’re in City X? Hell nah. I’ll check with HN1 and let you know what I find out.”
Her: “You’re kidding, right?”
Him: “Nope. You don’t need his information because I have it.”
Her: “Excuse me?”
Him: “Yeah. I’ll be your agent. Besides, you could end up with some rapist.”
Her: “You mean my manager? Yeah, no. I’ve traveled before, dear. So far I’ve done it sola and I’ve been fine. And I think it is more professional if I speak with him about what I need myself.”
Him: “Sorry.” [pause] “I’m a man. And I’m not changing my mind.”
So Kismet is watching this and wondering:
A. Why do upwardly mobile, professional minded, frequent flying black men say they want….
when they really want….
B. Why in the world would any black professional man think it is okay to screen industry contacts for his quite capable and likewise professional female partner?
C. Trust? Faith? Respect?
D. Sir, have we met?
E. Am I the only who sees the black male privilege and latent, I-Grew-Up-Drinking-the-Koolaid capital-M Misogyny dripping all over this entire exchange?
F. I’m a beast on the Google machine. If I want this HN1’s information, I will find it and make that shit look classy.
G. This is why you never piss off a black feminist with a pen. Or a blog.
H. Addendum to F & G: Sir, have we met?
I. Since when is “Sorry, I’m a man” ever led anywhere except the living room couch?
J. I say again:
Sir, have we met. Never mind.