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Racial justice, fantasies, and the BBC

[Hi! At least a few of you probably got here by googling something along the lines of “big black cock phone sex”. I can check the stats in a few days, but I don’t need to, because I’ve written about Big Black Cock before, and I have a tag for it, so I know people follow that particular path occasionally to get here. If you’re new here, you should know that this is a behind-the-scenes-type blog, not a drumming-up-business blog, so many of the posts here are not sexy. This particular post? Definitely not sexy.

This post is fucking angry.

ANGRY, segueing to DIDACTIC, and maybe a little SNARKY in parts. Here goes:]

Hello, Big Black Cock-seekers. For years I have been uncomfortable with doing your calls. (See this column I wrote, very early on in my phone-sex career.) The reasons why I continue to take your calls are mostly economic; I would be putting myself even further into marginal income territory if I tried to find a phone sex job where I did not have to talk about BBC. But I have to be honest with you right now: in light of all the recent cases of cops killing black people, killings that are tapping into fierce and necessary public rage, I am kinda burning out on your racist bullshit.

I am tired of your seemingly effortless use of the N-word; you don’t even hesitate, it just spews from your lips. (How much practice have you had saying it?) I am tired of talking about all of those enormous black dicks that you want to taste. (They don’t taste like chocolate, dude. They just taste like dick.) I am particularly tired of hearing you talk about your Hot Wife getting with all of that Big Black Cock, simply as a narrative gimmick for you to eventually get “forced” into getting with that BBC. (You can’t even fucking own your own racial fetishes, you have to project them on your supposed wife.)

I am not policing your fantasies. I don’t want to police anything, ever. I don’t know for sure that you have racist thoughts (other than your fantasies). But it’s, shall we say, statistically likely, and I would bet the income from all the BBC calls that I do, that at least 90% of you (and that’s probably generous) haven’t spent any time at all thinking about where your fantasies come from. I bet you haven’t spent much time thinking about racial injustice. I bet the images of the protests on TV scare the living fuck out of you on some basic level, in part because even while you watch the news and shake your head and talk with your wife or girlfriend about it, inside there’s a little (or big) part of your soul that is squirming because you just used the fucking N-word in our last call and you think about sucking BBC a fair bit, and you do not know what to do with that, so you just sit there and sweat a little during the awkward pauses. You are a coward and at some level you KNOW your fantasy is some fetishizing shit like WHOA, you just don’t know what to do with it. Hell, you may not even know the words for it. But you know it’s problematic in some way.

Now. I know, poor reader who came here looking for Big Black Cock, that you didn’t create that internal dynamic, where you can’t seem to control the erotic seething mess that lurks about in your mind and in your private-setting web browser, that throbbing aching image of someone else’s Big Black Cock and your poor defenseless little Tiny White Asshole. You inherited that from centuries of racism—particularly in the US, but elsewhere too—in which black people, especially black men, needed to be policed and controlled and punished. Having set the wheels of oppression in motion with slavery, white men practically had to paint black men as these mindless, slavering sex animals whose virility could not be contained. Once the slave owners started spreading that around, well, their white women and daughters got all curious! And then the strictures on black male sexuality had to be even more rigorously enforced, and on and on and fucking on in this vicious bloody spiral.

Yes, this is grossly simplified. It is also gross, and you inherited it. We all inherited racism when we were born in this country. We’re swimming in it. People on the receiving end of it are drowning in it. It’s not surprising that it sometimes soaks through the highly permeable membrane of our sexual psyches and leaves its mark.

Still with me? Great. Once you know that bit, then it’s time to do the right thing and THINK about it. I’m not saying you have to drop your fantasies. I’m just saying the same thing I say about any kink or fetish or preference: when what turns us on “happens to” line up with problematic things out in the real world, when our desires mesh really well with a fetishizing stereotype or an abusive dynamic that thrives, we owe it to ourselves and to society to really look at that. We need to examine our prejudices, think about what’s getting us off and why, and be aware of how we may or may not be projecting these prejudices back out into the real world.

I also think that some kind of balancing needs to happen. I am not particularly woo-woo, but this feels like a good thing to do for the universe. If you’ve got the money—which, if you’re a consumer of phone-sex services, YOU DO AND DON’T FUCKIN’ LIE—consider sending some respectable amount to the NAACP or a local group dedicated to fighting racial injustice. If you don’t have the money—which, as a phone sex operator, I don’t and that’s the truth—then talk about these issues, at least, keep them out in the open. Hatred and fear grow best in hiding, especially when you’ve got the erotic shame layered on top. It merges unspoken into the rest of the fetid stream of race relations in the US today, and it strengthens these tangled dangerous roots.

What? Oh, yes, I feel like I have to do some balancing, too. I’m not trying to paint myself as above it all. I grew up in the US. And as someone who does BBC calls, and apparently rather well, I benefit in a strangely direct way from the existence of racism. This line of work, though… if I said I would not do BBC calls, I would lose about 30 percent of my call volume. I am in this bind until I leave this field. So I write these things, and I talk about these things, and if I don’t reach my own callers, hopefully I will reach someone else’s.

Hello, Big Black Cock-seekers. This wasn’t what you wanted, but it’s probably what you need.