I tend to come to things late: Twitter, The Wire and puberty were all delayed arrivals into my life. And losing my virginity was no different. I rocked up to the University of Manchester in 2010 tragically chaste and sexually frustrated. It was what you might call a pre-“woke” epoch; we were still drunk on lad culture. My flatmate Liam quickly fashioned himself as the top lad; he would confess later that he’d made a secret bet that he could shag every girl in the group.

By the middle of my first year, my turn had come. I was in his room on the pretence of “watching a film”, but the foregone conclusion – have sex, then pretend it never happened – was punctured irreparably. As we kissed, Liam whispered: “I’ve never had sex with a black girl before” – the anti-aphrodisiac for women of colour everywhere. That was the end of that. Luckily, university was full of other young, drunk people with plenty of leisure time, so it wasn’t too difficult to get laid. But an awareness of my race, and a persistent bout of thrush, followed me through university and beyond.

I had spent most of my teens avoiding thinking about my ethnicity; blending in and miracle boob growth were my principal wishes at that age. But at university my sense of “difference” was heightened. It wasn’t just confined to the obvious: the lack of BME students or academics, or the history lecturer who claimed that British colonialists were well-intentioned. It began to crop up in my love life – such as the time I was asked whether my vagina was pink inside (FYI, it is).

The more I learned about racism and feminism, the smaller the pool of potential suitors became. While being thoughtful, funny, smart and able to put up with my unbearable flaws is a must, I became aware that my match also has to be serious about social justice to be my type on (recycled, sustainably sourced) paper.

Today, my work involves researching the links between race and inequality for two thinktanks. If “woke” means being alert to injustice in society, especially racism, then I am on constant high alert. A potential partner needs to be at least on medium alert for it to be workable. Eventually, I took a vow to date woke men only. But only after numerous bad experiences.

It was on exchange at the University of Toronto, aged 21, where the first racist domino fell. No longer shackled by my virginity, I woke up naked but for a coat on a stranger’s bathroom floor. I was pleased to find it was the flat of the best-looking guy at the frat party. We dated for a few months, but unfortunately Sam turned out to be a Republican and a biological racist. At a party, he told a confused group of fellow students that “black people are biologically predisposed to violence”, before tagging “Kim isn’t like that”, on to the end. Lucky me. An important lesson was learned: check if they’re overtly racist before intercourse.

Sure, people have types, but nothing makes you feel more like a trinket than being chosen for your ethnicity

I’ve shared a bed and overpriced meal with some less obviously deplorable offenders back home in the UK. With a university boyfriend, the incompatibility started small. I collected newspaper clippings about institutional racism in the Metropolitan police, but he wasn’t convinced. I asked him not to smoke weed with me in public, explaining that the rules were different for me. He didn’t understand why I cared. After we broke up, he admitted that he never spoke up when people made racist or sexist comments at work. I knew our friendship was finally over when he sent me an ill-judged treatise on race from the white male’s perspective while “finding himself” in India.

James Baldwin said that to be black and relatively conscious is “to be in a rage almost all the time”. It’s not the sexiest Tinder tagline, but dating someone “not woke” does leave you in a state of constant fury. I’m all for debate, but I don’t want my relationship to be reminiscent of Question Time. I’m looking for someone to be angry with, not at. There are enough other reasons in any relationship to be enraged, so why add another one?

But even after my vow to find a woke guy, things didn’t go smoothly. There was the man who, while nice, wanted to talk about “whether Cecil Rhodes was that bad” before I’d even had a morning cuppa. While on a date at a smart restaurant, he asked whether I had a dad, because he knew this was “a problem” in my community. Once it became clear that he only dated women of colour, my doubts grew. Sure, people have types, but nothing makes you feel more like a trinket than being chosen for your ethnicity. No one would say “all white people” are their type, apart from white supremacists. People specify and give details: brown hair, blue eyes, tall or short. Perhaps they’ll even talk about personality! Black and mixed-race people are not a type.

When my white friend told me how much of a confidence boost Tinder was, I didn’t have the heart to say that for me it was anything but. Black women receive the fewest messages on OKCupid and the fewest “swipes right” on Tinder, and my inbox was no different. So, for 2018, I swore I’d meet people in real life. On New Year’s Eve, I was asked out by a guy at a party. He was intelligent, attractive and, according to my wokeness calculator, 65% woke – the highest score yet. To reach this level, you must be at ease with a few basics. For example: you know reverse racism isn’t real; you never play “devil’s advocate” without knowledge of a subject; and you understand that poverty is not the fault of poor people. The rating couldn’t go above 65% in this case, because he is a civil servant with centrist foreign policy views. And he hadn’t read the Malcolm X autobiography.

But after months of dates, attending parties together and the purchase of a Scrabble set, I had no idea whether or not I was still single. The funny thing about the Foreign Office is that it tends to make staff leave the country for years at a time, with no consideration of my dating plight. Would I have to start the whole, wretched woke man search from scratch?

Kind of. Turns out our expiration date is coming up faster than expected: he’s getting a new post abroad. So when Weekend asked me if I would take part in their Blind Date series, I said yes. Fingers crossed he’s wide awake.

How to be woke: the dos and don’ts



Don’t say

All Lives Matter

OMG, I’m nearly as dark as you in this heat!

But you guys have Beyoncé?

I don’t know much about this, but...

I’m just not that into politics

You can’t say anything any more

The N word or P word (even during Gold Digger)

Do say

Black lives matter

What pronouns do you prefer?

Racism is about power and prejudice

It’s true, Britain didn’t build the railways in British India

Poverty is not the fault of poor people

I don’t know about that subject, tell me more

Names have been changed.



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