Tanzila Ahmed Doesn’t Date The White Devil

“Mooooom!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “I would never marry a white guy! I would marry anything but white. Person of color, only.”

“Ehhh!” Mom responded, frustrated. “Why not? He could convert!”

“It’s like being with the colonizer. Or an oppressor. I can’t do that.”

– Tanzila Ahmed: Oppressed Bangladesh girl overwhelmed in a world of evil white supremacy.

You may be asking yourself, who the hell is Tanzila Ahmed?  Before we begin, you need to check your privilege, you sick oppressive male and probably white shitlord devils.

Since I’m half/white and half/middle-eastern, I’ll only proceed to check it half-way.  Oh wait, genocide and slavery cards erases it all together.  The beauty of identity politics.

Now we can proceed.

How Social Justice Destroyed A Woman’s Love Life

Let’s get some context on Tanzila Ahmed so we can get a good idea of who she is and the noble ideas she stands for.

Tanzila Ahmed: A noble advocate of letting white men know what devils there are.

So what happened to her?

Well, she was fresh-faced, eager, and full of life.  And then she fell.  Her face to the foe, which took no mercy, would be that of the terrible white devil first boyfiend which would make her dating life irrecoverable.

Yes, it’s a shocking and harrowing tale.

She has one hell of a harrowing tale to tell all you oppressors out there.  It just so happens that she is one of the writers for “Love, InshAllah” a site that offers “fresh perspectives on love” that are so damn fresh, they may no longer represent any actual Islamic doctrine on love, marriage, and all that freaky frisky banter between the genders.  Yes, just the two genders.

In a fantastic and brilliant column filled with a rich and thorough analysis of the Quran, Ahmed – a Bangladesh immigrant – pens a wise and must-read treatise on why she doesn’t date white men simply entitled, “Why I Don’t White Men.” though she is willing to make one exception:

Why does Ahmed “strongly disprove of the white devil men? Her foray into social justice and activism would build a foundation so strong and impervious to empathy and compassion that all barriers and annoyances had to be removed – even the romance of love.  Prepare for an inferiority-complex so strong and ingrained, that it makes the Kardashian sister’s feud about who is more famous look like a Dr. Seus story.

This complex and it’s horrifying results wouldn’t just be limited to her, but her fellow revolutionary compatriots would affirm their romantic breakdowns in all too saddening detail.   Behold one of the comments that in particular caught my privileged shitlord eye; a comment by Hong Gwi-Seok (Peggy) who loved her white husband with all of her heart:

“i hear you. thank you for the beautiful, insightful, honest writing. i am korean american and was married to a white man for 26 years (stayed to raise our 3 kids). as i evolved in my racial identity, he could not come along. he took every criticism of white supremacy personally, so that i felt like i could not speak from my heart to him. he had too much privilege over me, so that i felt second class in my own home. having been there, done that, i am now choosing to be joyfully unpartnered, no money but in the midst of radical community, doing my life’s work.”

Yea, fuck my marriage so I can be joyfully un-partnered because “white privilege” and “white supremacy” are crushing my evolving racial identity.    Her partners refusal to bend over and take it in the ass everyday for the cause of social justice permanently destroyed their passion.

I am still flabbergasted by that comment and just how much social justice ideology could destroy a marriage. Perhaps, we should be less worried about “toxic masculinity” and more worried about toxic racial identity. 

Ahmed would prove to be a rather rebellious ardent and pious Muslim who would actually date men who weren’t Muslim – a sin worthy of family expulsion if you know about the penalties of dating a non-Muslim.

Childhood And The White Oppressors

Ahmed would begin her slow descent into a curious inner narcissism. It would begin in school, in which she was always the girl in the way of the other girls that the guys really wanted to talk to.  She didn’t take this well.  It of course wasn’t her fault, but rather of everyone else.

“The thing was, as a child of immigrants in the 80s, the good Bangladeshi Muslim boys in my age range were few and far between. The crushes I developed were the same crushes that all the girls in my grade school developed: on blond, blue-eyed, athletic, popular boys.”

Note, one should definitely ignore the racial demographics of the highschool and how it IS NOT in Bangladesh concerning “cute boys”.   It wasn’t that she developed her own taste for what was attractive in a boy based on the actual boys in the school, but rather it was environmental influence of those boy-stealing white girls who always seem to prevail – hooting, hollering, and reveling in their white privilege.

Those terrible white cis straight girls.  What oppressors.

“By the time I was in high school, this taste was fully developed. Of course, I never acted on my crush – dating was haram, and my parents would never allow it. But what did it matter anyway? As a brown girl, I wasn’t attractive to these boys either. They were drawn to the tall, blonde cheerleaders. I was always the sidekick to the pretty girls – the geeky, nerdy, student government, asexual, “other” Muslim brown girl. I was the girl that guys would talk to so that they could get closer to my pretty best friends.”

This terrible and traumatizing experience would destroy her self-esteem instilling in her a subconscious desire for revenge and disdain for the white man and his cultural supremacy… in the US… where he makes up 70% of the population, but I digress.

As she displays later and throughout the post, this embrace of social justice would eventually jeopardize her last and final relationship with the white devil, as she just couldn’t be true to herself.  She would describe some of the “problems” with her first oppressive straight white male boyfiend.

“During those years, I was also learning about what it means to be a person of color and how white supremacy plays out in the U.S. In the petri dish of our relationship, I noticed how his white privilege compared to my lack thereof. I had overwhelming student loans, made much less money then him,”

Yes, because “white supremacy” is having less student loans then someone else.  Reverse it, and then let that shit sink in.

“Our relationship came to an explosive end near election day, 2004. I promised myself that I would never actively date a white man again. I needed to get on solid ground on what it meant to be a Desi, an American, and a racial justice activist. I hated the feeling of constantly being reminded of how little power I had as a woman of color. It felt hypocritical to my political beliefs to be dating white.”

Yes, one of the best reasons to break up a relationship is because you need to find yourself as an activist on a quest for power. More power.  That last sentence is a real beauty.

“Most importantly, my career was about training and educating people on social justice issues. The last thing I wanted to do was come home to a space where I had to continue to educate. I wanted to be in a relationship where I could be my full self, no explanation or education needed. He embodied privilege: white privilege, class privilege, gender privilege, education privilege. How could I be in a relationship with a person who constantly reminded me of how much I was lacking?”

Re-read those last two sentences one more time.

Her boyfiend at the time had committed the cardinal original sin of social justice – he was born with white privilege.  Of course it was too much of a strain to “educate” the white devil on his white privilege devilry, because his innate privilege was just too much.

Sit back and take that in.

Love?

Fuck that.  His social, class, gender, and education privileges render him as a person to not only be irrelevant, but scum of the white-washed earth.

“When you are dating as a woman of color, it’s a struggle. But when you are “poor” and dating, the struggles are nuanced and different. Passing becomes of the utmost importance. Pretending to have privilege is paramount.”

I always wonder to myself why dating as a “woman of color” is any more difficult then the destroyed dating market the rest of the population is dealing with.   But, I’ll take her word for it, less I be a misogynistic sexist male shitlord – because when women tell you something, you should always believe them, even if it makes no actual sense.

Wait, let’s check that privilege again.

 

Assumptions About Objects On The Spreadsheet

Okay resume and observe this four paragraph description in which Ahmed makes about the sheer insane amount of different class and cultural filters she ran these men through:

“You wonder what your significant other will say when they see the peeling paint on the walls of your parents’ house, or the roof that needs repair. How what you thought was a middle class home will be perceived as less than when viewed by privileged eyes. How they’ll see your immigrant parents as less intelligent because of their thick accents. How will they even communicate? Will he remember not to touch you or kiss you while they are watching?

You wonder if you pass enough. You weren’t raised to understand the importance of brands and labels, but as an adult have had to learn enough so that you can have conversations about his car, or her purse, or their baby stroller. You wonder if your first date outfit says attractive or exudes cheap. When he orders food for you, you pretend that you know what you are eating, that chewy calamari or slimy oysters. You tout your master’s degree, but you are careful to not talk about how you carry the weight of your school debt because you learned early on that not everyone carries debt the way you do. You avoid conversations about how you had to work as a teen or how your parents borrow money from you. You hope, after looking at the menu, that this is one of the dates where he picks up the bill.

You choose your words carefully. Never say the words that gave away your improper pedigree, avoid the words you never learned to say. Google big words before saying them just to make sure you are using them correctly. Be carefully vague. Say your Mom works “at the airport” instead of as a cashier in the airport parking lot. Say Dad was an engineer and is now semi-retired. There’s no need for them to hear your family’s survival stories. Talk about how your parents own their house, but don’t talk about how it was almost taken away, or how you the roof leaks now and there’s no money to fix it. When they ask, “Why don’t you put it on your credit card?” pretend you don’t have credit cards for ethical reasons, not because you wouldn’t be approved for one.

You are careful to highlight the “exotic” nature of being brown – how you eat fancy “Indian” dishes, when really you ate at home because it was the cheapest. How you do yoga at home, but fail to mention that it’s because Indophile yogis in Silverlake studios annoy you. Nod when they note the Third World poverty of your motherland. Pretend to know enough about South Asian foreign policy so you don’t look stupid when they mention something they learned in their private school education. Talk about the non-violence movement and smile when they say Gandhi is inspiring. Don’t talk about family vacations as a child – because your only family vacations involved seeing extended family in Bangladesh. Suppress your look of envy when you hear their stories about sleep-away camps, cruise ship family vacations, or family dinners at fancy restaurants.”

Wow. No wonder dating is so damn hard for her. She assumes the absolute worst about all perspective romantic possibilities and turns every encounter into a sitcom where every situation is cringe worthy and awkward.   It’s not about her character as a person, but about the clothes she has and the important degree she doesn’t know if she mention or not.

I don’t know about you, but based on those four paragraphs, I can feel the connection and sparks of romance in the air.

It almost seems like she is talking about “objects” in a spreadsheet that are being run through a complex dating algorithm on OKCupid.    Take the movie the “Notebook”, insert two robots with deficient programming, and reverse the entire plot of the movie and her qualms start to make more sense.

What missing in this miring complexity of cultural, racial, economic, and every other fucking possible factor of diversity?

Love. Romance. Passion. The stuff of every romance movie of the last 5 decades.

All the stuff that makes our stomachs flutter and our ladies giggle.  Suffice to say, but I thought most actual living human beings in most Western countries date for love and don’t give a shit about your motherland, your weird cultural dishes, or how much money you or your family has.

“So you give up on dating. Because when it comes down to surviving and finding love, you can’t figure out how to do both sanely at the same time. You’d rather survive alone. And you wonder, how long you can pass until people discover you are a poser. Or if you’ll spend the rest of your life simply passing.”

She now has nothing left – except for her books, cats, and racial community classes.

“Tanzila Ahmed is an activist, storyteller, and politico based in Los Angeles. She can be heard and read monthly on the #GoodMuslimBadMuslim podcast and Radical Love column respectively.”

Well, fancy that.

I don’t know about you, but she definitely appears to be very fulfilled with her life and to be loving every moment of it. That’s how I want to be – an ideologue with a romance so strong, that education privilege can doom it to the dustbin of tumblr relationship advice gone terribly wrong.

You know, I’m not surprised that all the actual eligible Bangladesh men aren’t falling over each other in an attempt to grab this beautiful snowflake and carry her off to the magical lands of passionate love.   Also the fact that she seems to be about as much of a practicing Muslim as I am an ardent Buddhist is certainly scoring some major brownie points in her romantic favor.

For her sake and that of others, perhaps it’s best that Ahmed doesn’t date anyone – for a very long time. Or perhaps it’s just one big ploy to get those devil hunters out there and after her because those shriveling ovaries aren’t getting anymore fertile now that she’s in her 30s:

Hell, at least when I hooked up for the only time with a Muslim girl, our differences didn’t matter as much as the passion of the moment and my dazzling eyes that she couldn’t look away from did.  (Okay being half Armenian, good looking, and very knowledgeable about Muslim culture and history did help.)

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