Don't call me black
Source: ynet
July 31, 2007 Author: Gideon G
I look good, a regular guy with a job, hobbies, and a great apartment. My accent is hardly noticeable. I am healthy and completely normal. Too normal, perhaps. I had to overcome many hurdles because of my ethnicity. My family arrived from Ethiopia and although my parents and I were born in Israel I can't get a date
Gideon G. Published: 07.31.07, 22:34 / Israel Singles
My name's Gideon. I am Ethiopian, Second generation in Israel. It may sound strange but I feel Israeli. Why wouldn't I feel Israeli? My parents were born here. I was born here. I served in the army, I'm a university graduate. I have Israeli friends. Not Ethiopians, I mean. Do you get it?
I hate to complain. I was raised that way and I believe a person must face their own reality. Meaning, change what he can and accept what he can't. A real cliché but I really believe it and try to live my life accordingly. Because I hate complaints, writing this is not easy.
I had to overcome many hurdles throughout my life. Hurdles I had to face because of my ethnicity, because that ethnicity is evident to anyone looking at me.
In most places I found myself the only Ethiopian or one of few. The only black. I have no problem with the word "black." I think those who avoid it because of political correctness are no better than those who do.
I was born in a predominantly Ethiopian neighborhood but at a young age my parents decided to leave the "ghetto" and move to a regular neighborhood – quite an unusual feat for an Ethiopian family. I mean Israelis of Ethiopian origin.
I encountered racism everywhere I went. It was expressed in various ways: at times it was outright mockery, at times it was behind my back, sometimes it was pity. Yet, slowly, I managed to fit in (I hate this phrase). I graduated high school, served in the army, traveled in South America, graduated from university and got a normal (i.e. not "typical" Ethiopian) job.
Not one Israeli woman wanted me
The last hurdle I was not able to overcome so far: Israeli women. Not a single Israeli woman wanted to date me. I had female friends in the army and through school. I have a good relationship with the ones at work. But a girlfriend? Sex? No way.
Let's be clear – it is because of my origin. Any attempt to explain it differently is pathetic. Believe me I look good. A normal person: with a job, hobbies, and a great apartment. I hardly have an accent. I am completely normal. Too normal perhaps. I see my friends: ordinary guys that are no better than me – unless you regard white skin as an advantage – meet girls, date, fall in love. Some are more successful than others but they have a love life. I have none. Naturally I had some relationships but they were all with Ethiopian women.
I can tell they are embarrassed to reject me
When I try to hit a girl who's not Ethiopian – it doesn't happen often but occasionally it does – I see them get embarrassed. They really feel uncomfortable rejecting me. I can visualize what they're thinking. How much they are afraid I'll think it's because of the color of my skin.
My friends tell me Israeli women can be real nasty when they are not interested in a guy. Yet when they reject me they are so nice, filled with compassion. I can almost hear their thoughts: "These Ethiopians are such gentle, sweet people. I must be careful not to hurt them; especially after all they've been through."
When I sighed-up to a popular dating site, I did not receive a single positive feedback. Just for fun, I took off my photo, changed the information about my ethnicity and skin color and contacted a couple of girls. Suddenly, I got positive responses.
A few weeks ago I went to a party with a friend. I had a really pleasant conversation with one of the girls. I was planning on asking her for her number. At some point I went to the bathroom and as I was coming back, I overheard her talk to one of her friends. The friend asked: "So what do you think about – what's his name?"
"I think it’s Gideon, I am not sure, He's okay, sort of cute."
"Would you date an Ethiopian?"
"Don't know, I think the differences in mentality are too big."
She did not mind the racist question. She answered it as if it was the most trivial question. After all, I am Ethiopian first, black. She did not let the fact that the conversation we had flowed beautifully ruin her theory about "gaps in mentality."
Advertisement
For a moment I thought I should confront her, tell her I overheard the conversation she had. But I felt weak. Maybe I did not want to spoil her image of nice, gentle Ethiopians, so I just left the party.
I was ashamed.
Should I conclude this by saying "I can not believe that in the 21 century Israel, such racism exists," but I won't, because I do believe. More so, I know.
