A few years ago, three college friends and I decided to take a road trip from Dallas to New Orleans. Somewhere between badly belting Leon Bridges and gushing over the southern sky, we ended up spending hours talking about love, opening up to each other about our desires and insecurities. My then-roommate suggested that one of the boys on the trip and I would make a cute couple. I denied the romantic chemistry, and the boy (who, by the way, is also Black) quickly shot back, “Well, I don’t date Black girls anyway,” as if to clarify any misconceptions.