Island Girl

It’s that time of year again. Love Island time! Every evening (except Saturdays where they get to have a break, go to the beach and try not to crack on with each other without the cameras in tow) we gather via Twitter (Black Twitter UK v Fiat 500 Twitter) to watch, the laugh, to hype a gaggle of girls and a batch of boys find love and maybe win some money at the end of it. It’s fantastic TV and even better social media bants.

This will sound awful unless you understand, but I could watch Love Island in mental peace when there weren’t any black girls on the show. I’ll explain. Last year, Samira Mighty, she of ‘cutsie’ and the ‘yaaaaas’ scream as she got a text fame, was the last girl to be picked. Why? I cannot for the life of me tell you. Except for the fact that she’s a black girl. Her body as a dancer is fire. She connected strongly with the other girls in the villa, especially fan fave Dani but she didn’t seem to inspire the same in the penile of the species. Why? Coz apparently black is a type that men (of all races) are not interested in. The contestants will say this out loud. On national TV. With their whole chest. 

“She’s not my type.” 

“But you said you like brunettes.” 

“She’s not brunette, she’s…” cue awkward gesturing.

It was a disappointing end for Samira, even though she found love in the villa with then beau Frankie, we hardly saw them together to understand Samira’s breakdown when he was selected to leave. The editing made sure their connection was never seen by the light of day. We don’t talk about what happened after. We don’t.

This year we have the gorgeous Yewande. As soon as her face popped up as one of this year’s contestants, I groaned. I guessed far too well where the attacks would come. Her hair. Her teeth. Her mouth. Her sleek physique. But if I tell you the sheer amount of comments about a black woman’s hair in 2019 between 9 and 10 pm BST, you wouldn’t believe me. Brush it; tug it back; do something with it; it’s looking rough. Yewande was another girl chosen last and seemingly none of the boys were interested in because she wasn’t their type. How? She’s crazy smart, she’s got a banging body, and she’s Irish! Yesterday, an Irish girl entered the villa and one of the boys who had a date with her was sparkly eyed because she was Irish too. Guess what colour she was?

It’s ultimately disappointing watching this show fail in diversity time and time again. To keep prompting type as a colour. I swear, if one girl this year says “mixed race is my type” I will hurt people. A lot of people. It's stressful as a black woman to watch a healthy, beautiful, intelligent, young black woman have her self esteem chipped away day by day literally because she's not white and blonde. 

Some would query then why I write interracial romance novels, if I have such an issue with people claiming a type. You cannot unequivocally state that an entire race of people is not attractive because of the colour of their skin and call it a preference. That’s wholly racist, and if you don’t understand why, you’re lost. You haven’t met every single black person on this planet to say you aren’t attracted to them.

Further, black women are bottom of the list where dating and marriage is concerned. It’s exactly why I write stories with black women front and centre. With their hair in any type of way. Wig, extensions, braids, relaxed, twists, natural Afro (represent Miss Eva). It’s why I want black heroines to be appreciated for their beautiful skin. For their heritage. Their sparkling personalities and their pillowy lips (long before women with a surname that begins with a K began to extol the virtues of fillers). My heroines are first choice. Are the dream women. The quality that has been missing from the heroes’ lives. The one thing worth any and all sacrifice to keep in their lives.

I’ll persevere with Love Island. Only because it’s like watching tv with a family of comedians who speak my language. But I’ll keep writing the happy endings for black women that seems to continuously elude reality tv. And reality itself.