There’s been a rise in conversations around “Black Love,” and truthfully, it often feels like we struggle to stay united. When I see an Instagram page highlighting interracial couples, I don’t feel the need to follow it just to spread hate or start drama because my views are different. It feels like, every time something meaningful emerges in the black community, we get pushback. Sometimes from outsiders, but way too often, the division comes from within. We’re quick to criticize the very things meant to bring us together.
Remember when “Black Lives Matter” first took off? Some people twisted it into something negative, claiming it meant that black lives were more important. When in reality, the message was simple: we matter too. Same goes for “black love.” It’s about recognition, unity, and the strength that comes from embracing our own.
Love is limitless and transcends in many; shapes, sizes, colors, religions, and more. Everyone should be free to love who they love. When we say “black love,” we are simply emphasizing our presence in this conversation. It recognizes the love shared between black individuals, affirming that we too possess the capacity to love and receive love. The way we express that love is uniquely our own. This includes how we show affection, offer support, hold one another accountable, and understand each other. It’s another way we choose to celebrate ourselves and those who choose to connect with us.
Back in 1993, community organizer Ayo Handy-Kendi introduced the term “Black Love.” Inspired by Spike Lee’s Malcolm X, she created “Black Love Day.” It was meant to be celebrated on February 13th, just before Valentine’s Day, as a way to bring the community together and celebrate us. In a New York Times quote, she said:
“Black Love Day gives us that chance to bond and reconnect around who we really are as a people… Not only to be proud of our accomplishments, but to be unapologetically black and feel good about that.”
Each day, we see heartfelt displays of love in our communities, through cherished TV shows and movies, on our social media feeds, and within the pages of our favorite books. Yet, time and again, the most celebrated love stories overlook the experiences of black individuals. Back in the day, we did see some representation of black families, but too often, it was heavy with stereotypes or confined us to struggle narratives. Still, it was meaningful to see individuals who looked like us.
In today's world, however, the representation of black couples is noticeably limited. While we are offered roles and love stories, they frequently feature black individuals paired with non-black partners, like black women with white men or black men with white women. To ensure that we were included and we’re properly represented, we took it upon ourselves to carve out a space where we always belonged.
Around 2015, we adopted the hashtag #BlackLove to affirm our value. It wasn't created to separate, but to be seen. It allowed us to showcase loving, successful relationships and challenge the narrative that such bonds don't exist within our community. We too come from stable & nurturing homes. We too have, two parents households and strong male figures. Our community is filled with educated individuals and families building generational wealth and legacies.
Black love has always existed, but like many other trends in this new decade, it has gained significant attention. Over the years, individuals from various backgrounds within the black community began to share their experiences, highlighting the journeys they undertake to build and nurture their relationships. This movement instilled hope and inspired many to seek their own version of “black love.”
In 2017, the OWN Network teamed up with Black Love Inc. to launch a show that highlighted couples who represented the heart of “black love.” The series gave a real look into love, marriage, and relationships in the black community. Celebrating the highs, addressing the lows, and everything in between. It featured couples like Meagan Good and DeVon Franklin, Tia Mowry and Cory Hardrict, and Remy Ma and Papoose. These pairs were looked up to as "relationship goals."
Social media has a way of putting celebrities on pedestals, often expecting them to be perfect examples of how to live and love. That’s a lot of pressure. They're human, but they don’t always get the space to be real or vulnerable, especially when so many people are watching and rooting for them.
Since then, all three couples have gone their separate ways, and their breakups hit hard for a lot of people. Every time a well-known black couple splits, it feels like hope fades a little. Folks start picking sides, guessing what went wrong, and clinging to the few couples still standing. In today’s world, we tend to tie our beliefs to people and when they fall short, it can feel like the whole idea falls apart too. Breakups like these have stirred up new questions: What does “black love” really mean? Is it still something we believe in, or just something we wanted to believe?
It feels as though the concept of "black love" is losing its true essence.
Many black men and women feel deeply hurt by this term, viewing it as yet another way to belittle their choices and experiences with interracial dating. Yet, I believe that choosing a partner who isn’t black does not in any way lessen your worth or your identity as a black individual. This term isn’t meant to cast a shadow over you; rather, it’s to highlight its importance and the richness it offers to those who choose to embrace a black partner.
Also, some people in our community feel a way when successful Black individuals end up with non-black partners. That feeling is deep. It’s not just about preference, it’s about feeling unseen, like we’re only desirable once we’ve made it. It’s a valid emotion, even if it comes off as bitter. Our dating pool can feel small, and when someone “makes it out” but doesn’t bring that love back home, it stings. Especially when they come back to the community expecting love and support after things go left.
On a surface level, we say we’re inclusive and I believe we are. But it often feels like we’re not given the same love unless we meet certain conditions. That’s why seeing black couples thrive in the media brings so much pride. It’s not just about validation. It’s about visibility. Representation still matters.
On the flip side, whenever a new couple is featured on blogs, they quickly become objects of admiration, with fans proclaiming they "better not break up" as if their happiness is our own personal investment. Many couples who may not serve as ideal role models are being presented to us as the new benchmark for relationships. Meanwhile, established couples who were once idealized are now subjected to scrutiny and mockery for the challenges they are facing in their relationships or personal lives.
We’re in a new era, with more access to information, experiences, and platforms. Social media has made conversations more raw, more honest, and sometimes more painful. Comments like “black men always cheat,” “marriage doesn’t mean anything,” or “our grandparents weren’t any better” flood the timeline. It seems many are arriving at the viewpoint that the significance of commitment in relationships, doesn’t carry the same weight as it once did.
Of course, marriage isn't the end-all-be-all! Many successful couples opt out of marriage altogether. Their love and commitment can be just as strong, if not stronger, than those who choose to say “I do.” However, these days, it feels like some men are more willing to create broken homes than build solid ones. While some women seem more content with being moms or girlfriends than wives. I’m not here to push the traditional mold. I don’t think a ring defines worth. But let’s not pretend that single parenthood is the goal. We shouldn’t glamorize the struggle just because we’ve learned how to survive it.
So why is there fear around marriage but not around raising kids, living together, and spending years building something temporary? That’s real commitment too.
Our grandparents had their own set of problems. Many stayed through infidelity, emotional absence, or just plain survival. Some endured segregation, working tirelessly to create something from nothing and traditional gender roles shaped their experiences. Men were taught to provide, while women were taught to endure. Love, for many, meant sacrifice. Some stayed out of fear. Others stayed out of loyalty, or because they didn’t see another option. Their love was flawed, but it was also foundational and we carry both the trauma and the tradition with us today.
That said, I absolutely do not endorse or celebrate individuals who choose to stay in unhealthy relationships. But, I do admire those who weathered storms and somehow maintained their love against all odds. I also respect those who chose to part ways and found new love, even if it looks different from what we traditionally anticipate.
Now, some say black love doesn’t deserve its own label. Due to the perceptions that black men often don’t respect black women or fail to meet their needs. Some people believe that black men have a reputation for being violent, unfaithful, and bringing little to a relationship, leaving behind heartache and pain. On the flip side, there are arguments claiming that black women lack standards, can be overwhelming to deal with, want to rely on men for support, and struggle to be anything beyond a “strong black woman.” These are just a few of the negative stereotypes I’ve encountered.
That’s why representation is so key. Because when you’re hurting, it’s easy to believe the worst. But one failed relationship or one person's bad actions, doesn’t speak for an entire community.
I came across someone recently who said that “black love” is a scam. Like it’s some kind of trick or something you can buy. To me, “black love” simply means two black people choosing to love and support one another. It's about connection, respect, and shared experiences.
Black Love is more than just romance. It’s about how we support each other, care for our families, show up for our friends, and love ourselves. It’s in our shared experiences, our culture, and the way we lift each other up.
It’s time we move past our differences and the need to constantly prove our perspectives. Instead, let’s focus on embracing and uplifting one another. Choosing to date within the black community is just as valid as choosing to date outside of it. There’s no need for harsh judgment or dismissing the value of a black partner. Everyone has the right to choose who they share their life with. At the end of the day, what matters most is being loved by someone who genuinely loves and respects you, period.