I hear you, venting about what your friends say to you because they found out you read the IR genre. Toting the genre as something more than what it is, judging you as though you hate black men when black women have always been and still are the number one supporters of the black man.
But…do you ever feel guilty about reading the genre? Do you ever get those internal feelings, that incongruence that builds each time you come across a male protagonist with light skin, light hair, and/or light eyes who makes you swoon? Do you ever envision yourself in the middle of a raunchy daydream about Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, or Chris Pratt (wait…do I have a Chris thing?) only to snap back to the reality of an Excel spreadsheet that will now take hours to fix?
What I’m asking is…are IR writers doing something taboo, or are we just telling a different kind of love story?