Letters

You want us to want you? Christ, the feeling is mutual.

I haven't seen "Wedding Crashers" and I probably won't unless my girlfriend insists on renting it when it hits DVD. Still, I read Ms. Dickerson's article with a high level of interest.

I'm white, and I live in Detroit, and I don't have any answers to the questions Ms. Dickerson raises, but taking my own social circle as a highly informal test sample, I do know that my friends and I are all in love with black women, and that none of us have ever had a black wife or girlfriend.

It's not because we think black women are unworthy, or unladylike, or anything like that. Rightly or wrongly we all suffer the same implacable sense that black women would never go for us. There's definitely the perception of an impenetrability there, a line that any one of us would happily cross if we had any idea freakin' how or where to start.

I'm sure there are plenty of different factors at play (not the least of which is that my friends and I are a bunch of idiots), but I'll bet our relentlessly divisive media hasn't helped much. At any rate, I can assure Ms. Dickerson that when it comes to this kind of separatism, we white guys very much share her disappointment.

-- J.B.T.

Debra J. Dickerson's recent column, "I Want You to Want Me" could not have been more off the mark. As a young black woman, I found Dickerson's ranting about how "unlovable" black women are to be irresponsible, presumptuous and ridiculously narrow-minded. I'm not a "gender crasher." I'm not "an imposter fronting as a real woman." I'm not a "bitch," as Dickerson suggests many black women are. Her weak-willed way of thinking only supports the racism she so vehemently protests.

Wake up! There are so many strong-willed, sexy, intelligent black females out there that men of all races cannot keep their eyes off of, and I'm one of them. I'm not sitting at home, alone, watching old episodes of "Soul Food." I'm out there among the rest of the world, strutting my stuff with grace and confidence, laughing all the way through "Wedding Crashers," "Shout" montage and all.

To all the men out there, I say: You Want Me to Want You. To Debra J. Dickerson, I say: If you want to be fuckable, check the hurt and the drama at the door. Life's too short. And if that's not a turnoff, I don't know what is.

-- R.J.

When I saw "Wedding Crashers," I didn't want to be one of the wooed and bedded young girls. I thought if Vince and Owen tried those tired lines on a sister, they would have been laughed off in an instant.

I didn't envy them. Instead I enjoyed the plot, the jokes, the romances and Owen Wilson despite the distracting nose. The movie was that entertaining.

When I buy my movie ticket, I expect diversion and escape, not diversity.

-- Catherine Mims Yamaguchi

Like Mrs. Dickerson I am an African-American who at times feels there is not a place for me within this society. Just as she feels that African-American women must overcome being seen as un-sexy mules, I, as an African-American man, deal with the stereotypes that peg me as lazy, oversexed and prone to violence. I deal with these attitudes not only from society at large, but also from within my own community.

As a shy, computer-loving intellectual who lived in a small mountain town until early adolescence, I do not fit the description of the ideal man for most African-American women in my city. As a consequence my two most recent relationships, including my present marriage to a wonderful Latin woman, have been outside of my race. Despite being happily married, I still sometimes wonder what could be so wrong with me that I did not settle down with an African-American woman. It is an issue that I know that I need to make peace with, but it is difficult to let it go when even those who know me best give some credence to it.

Recently I was talking about women with one of my oldest and dearest friends and in the course of discussing a hypothetical situation, I mentioned having a relationship with an African-American woman. My friend's response cut me like a knife. He told me that he could not see me being with an African-American woman because he did not think that they were "my type."

As you can see, the struggle to fit in and find one's place is universal. Every person has dealt with it at one point or another. African-Americans facing this struggle must not only contend with their own personal questions of identity, but must also combat additional forces that were created by old attitudes -- attitudes that started long before Mrs. Dickerson and I were born and will sadly continue long after we leave this world.

The fight against being marginalized is a struggle for all African-Americans, male and female alike. I would like to stand up for sisters like Mrs. Dickerson and to help them realize that when many African-American men see an African-American woman raising two kids on her own or struggling to make her mark in corporate America we don't see a mule, but instead see someone who is like our mothers, sisters, aunts, cousins and grandmothers -- a beautiful black woman.

-- Jackie R. Williams

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