“I’ve never been with a black girl before.” Those words were supposed to make me feel honored, to make me feel like being his “first black girl” was a prize. It was meant to make me feel like a winner. The only thing it made me feel was hatred. Honestly, I didn’t want to sleep with him at that point. Like many young girls, I have always wanted the modern day Cinderella story. The issue with this story is that Prince Charming used is white. The view of my perfect guy was essentially the stereotypical guy that Elle Woods would go for, and I was illegally black. Legally speaking I’d be considered an African-American, but that isn't the case anymore. Either way, I am a person, more specifically, an American of “African” descent, but I am also a woman. Being all of these things simultaneously is nearly oxymoronic. The term "American" does not imply non-European descent which is why everything else is hyphenated. I am a suburban black kid, and like the hyphen, I am often forgotten. What is not forgotten is that to American culture, my black skin is a commodity because it is exotic to white hands. Perhaps I would be exotic if I was still African. White boys still whisper to me that I am “pretty for a black girl,” as if it is supposed to make me feel better about being black. I do not want their condolences. I do not, have not, nor will I ever need the white, or whitewashed masses to tell me that I am pretty in comparison to Eurocentric beauty standards. Fuck you, and your beauty standards. Fuck you, and your Eurocentrism. Honestly, fuck you and Europe for all I care.