We started attending parties where I happened to be one of the few white group. Guys would address me personally, hardly ever avoiding grabbing my buttocks or inquiring the question, “So you prefer black colored men?” I was known as that female who was merely contemplating dark colored guys and suddenly, you that took me ages to become confident with became one I found myself questioning once more. “You have no a**, Erica” one guy said at one of them people as LL magnificent J’s “Big Ole buttocks” blasted through speakers, while another told me he had been prepared to deal with my shortage of a chest because I got “an a** like a dancer.” Most of the music throughout the broadcast by black colored writers and singers appeared to put emphasis on parts of the body that I happened to be inadequate. Flo Rida’s “Can’t accept it as true” flowed through celebration speakers with its lyrics “Damn that white girl had gotten some a** we don’t accept it” and “black female had gotten some a** they ain’t no secret”, taking me personally back to thoughts of insecurity we began creating as somewhat kid.
