How attractive is the black slave man through the eyes of a white woman?

Several days before the civil war breaks out, in which nobody knows how many men will die. I am sitting in the old rocking chair on the long terrace at the plantation's big house. I watch from the distance the blacks slave working hard, with shackles on their feet picking cotton under a hot sun at a time of year during this summer. Which seems eternal for my taste. Silently asking myself: What will happen after all this?

If the heat is unbearable sitting under the shade on this terrace, where I can feel the fresh air that a hot and humid day can offer, I wonder how hard it must be for those who have to work all day during the summer when the sun is constantly on your back. If I think about it: Why am I complaining so much?

Because of their conditions of slaves, all the workers are half naked. Some showing in their bodies the hardness of the work and no matter how painful the sores on the feet or hands are, they must work in the field. How much this type of work is killing them little by little? It is something that nobody seems to care about, and more when they are considered less than human. I can see also the marks of the lashes of those who don't take orders from their master, who have to work from sunrise to sunset without rest or without complaining.

Because of the harshness of the work, the intense heat, the constant use of the same dirty rags and the bad smell that always occurs when someone is rarely allowed to clean up, either because of the little or no personal attention given to these slaves for their owner or because they don't receive enough water to drink, much less to bathe is one reason why none of the masters want to be near these slaves, including me.

Without wanting it, my eyes looked intensely in the distance at a black man, strong, sweaty and handsome, who for some reason catches my attention. Seeing if everyone hasn't noticed it yet, I discovered at that moment how attractive this black man is physically, when I couldn't erase the images of him in my mind for several minutes, but either the erotic fantasies of every woman has when finds a man attractive.

Admitting to myself that this black slave was the reason for these fantasies in me, I feel confused, ashamed, excited but at the same time scared and more when every one repeats loudly that a black slaves will always be below a white man.

One of the great problems of this obsessive thought is that for a white woman like me it is forbidden to look a black slave, much less to conceive some kind of romantic approach with a black man, much less have sex with that man because at this moment this type of relationship between a slave and her master is forbidden.

How terrible it is for a white woman like me, when I'm not allowed to be married to a black man no matter how much that man is part of my heart, no matter how much that man means to me as a woman, without him ever having the opportunity to know about this feeling. That is not fair!

It is forbidden for a white woman to look into the eyes of a slave man without the company of her husband. I don't even want to think what the others would say if they were to find out about my feelings towards a black man.




In this case the white supremacy does not apply when it comes to a white woman falling in love with a black man and more if that man is a slave. That means a shame for a woman and white and the sure death of the black man.

Sometimes I ask myself in silence, If God cares what a woman feels. If in heaven our skin color ceases to exist? If in the eyes of God we are all equal? I wonder If a white woman can feel love for a black man? Knowing a little about the king of heaven, I know that for our created everything is possible. I have faith that it will be so!


This prohibition of this type of romantic relationship between a black man and a white woman no matter how handsome that black man is or how much in love this woman is, its something that takes away my dream and more when the southern states prefer a civil war that allows the liberation of all slaves by its owners.

These winds of war only reaffirm the attitude of the states of the union of keeping the black man in perpetuating slavery, but also to maintain the supremacy that the white man should have over the blacks. Which makes this relationship impossible. Every white man is crazy when they start a war to keep another man in a system of involuntary slavery.

In this case my feelings as a woman and my reason as a human being are on the same side, contrary to the white man whose feelings of inflated superiority are above reason without caring about the negative consequences of his actions of his wrong racist philosophy. Luckily I am not a white man, I am a white woman, although I have to accept that history will judge us both equally.

Starting from this reality I must accept that no matter how much I like that black man is something that I must learn to suppress if I want to protect my status as a decent woman in front of other ladies, society or in front of my religious faith, but also if I want to protect the life of this black slave, because the moment someone finds out that this black slave has his eyes on me "He is a dead black".

What will happen when the civil war ends? What will happen to him? Will he remain a slave or will he be a free black? Can a white woman have some kind of marital relationship with a black after the civil war? I'm dying to know the answers.

This deep love I have and all the  erotic fantasies in which this black slave is the cause can be a reality without feeling ashamed of what people will say about me, especially my family if slavery is abolished after the war.

Will white supremacy ever accept the union between a black man and a white woman? They are answers that I don't know at this moment. But there's one thing I'm sure of and I'm attracted to that black man who worked hard on my father's plantation.

Note: This story is fictional and you should see it within this context.