• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Interracial Love
  • /
  • Quebec Lady For Haitian Gentleman

Quebec Lady For Haitian Gentleman

Opposites attract, and that makes for wonderful fun, I think. Take my wife Jeannette Saint-Jean and me for example. We couldn't be more different from each other yet we're passionately in love. I was born on the island of Haiti in 1967. My parents, Louis and Marie Cavalier moved to the City of Montreal, province of Quebec, in the summer of 1972. I attended the University of Montreal from 1986 to 1990, graduating with a bachelor's degree in sociology. I studied Law at McGill University, earning my J.D. in 1994.

I've always been somewhat of a nerd. Six-foot-three, lean and muscular Black men can't be nerds. We're supposed to be sportsmen or something. Yet I am nerdy as can be. Most people don't realize this when they look at me, though. In the eyes of the world, my alter go Adam Cavalier is a successful attorney and restaurant owner. A successful man in his own right. No one knows that behind this façade, it's only me. It's not easy being a Black man in the Confederation of Canada. Even though I grew up here and speak English and French flawlessly, people still ask me daily that questions which all non-Whites in Canada hear at least once a week. Where do you come from? The most politically and socially loaded question anyone can ask you in Canada.

White folks in Canada don't get asked that question. You could be an Irish guy straight from Galway or an Australian woman who just flew in from Tasmania and you're assumed to be a 'true Canadian' based on your skin tone. Yet another symptom of systemic White privilege, I guess. The truly privileged aren't even aware of it, it's basically second nature. My parents taught me early on that society is racist towards our people and that only through hard work and education can we ever uplift ourselves. A lot of young Black men living in Montreal were drawn to rap music, wanton women and drugs. My parents kept me on the straight and narrow path. School, the library and church, those were the only places I was allowed to go.

My parents moved to Quebec from Haiti so we could build a better lives for ourselves. As a young Haitian immigrant living in the City of Montreal, Quebec, I took their words to heart and dedicated myself to improving my lot in life. I graduated from Saint Catherine Academy and won an academic scholarship to the University of Montreal. It wasn't easy attending one of Quebec's most prestigious schools as a brother from the Caribbean, but I managed. In time, I came to think of the University of Montreal as home away from home. It's where I met the woman destined to change my life forever. Jeannette Saint-Jean, a tall, red-haired and green-eyed Caucasian woman I spotted coming out of the gym one afternoon. From the first time I laid eyes on her, I must say that I was kind of smitten. Yeah, I think I developed a crush on her right then and there.

Jeannette Saint-Jean was beautiful, and also wealthy and privileged. Her father, Ernest Saint-Jean, isn't a typical Quebecer. He was born in Versailles, France, and moved to Quebec as a young man. He made a fortune in the textiles industry. Jeannette has direct French ancestry through him. I didn't think anything would come of it. I mean, Jeannette and I came from different worlds. The University of Montreal was a fairly diverse place in those days just like today. Lots of Africans, Asians, Hispanics and other nationalities among the Quebecers and English Canadian students. Still, interracial dating was quietly frowned upon and the few interracial couples I saw often drew looks from people, especially if the woman was White and the man was Black. Montreal folks didn't seem to mind White men dating Black women. And why should they? From the beginning, White men have been permitted to do whatever they want wherever they go.

At the time I met Jeannette, I was nursing a broken heart. I had recently gotten dumped by Alexandra Pierre, this tall, fine-looking young Haitian woman I knew from the Haitian Adventist Church of Montreal. Alexandra and I grew up next door to each other, and we basically knew each other our whole lives. After high school, I went to the University of Montreal and she went to Concordia University. We began dating, and for a while, everything seemed perfect. Alexandra was gorgeous, smart and ambitious. I totally thought she and I were going to be together forever. I was raised to be a good Black man. Good Black men go to church, excel in school, stay out of trouble and take care of their Black women.

That was the example my father passed onto me, and I believed it wholeheartedly. Besides, in those days, Quebec was kind of a racist place and if you're Black, they don't like me. Trust me, when I got a job as a librarian's assistant at the University of Montreal, people were surprised. It's one of the best-paying student jobs at school and it's typically the domain of Caucasian students. Oh, well. Us Haitians like to break barriers. Still, one has to be careful. You often heard stories of Black men getting in trouble over young White women. A lot of the White girls out there seemed like hypocrites to me. Eager to mess around with brothers but where are they when a brother needs help? They're at home, playing with their Barbie dolls. Honestly, I didn't see myself with anyone except a Black woman. I didn't think any woman who isn't Black could understand me or relate to what I endure in Canadian society as a Black man pursuing higher education. Besides, I always thought White folks, especially White women, had easy lives and wouldn't know struggle if it hit them in the face. Yeah, we lived in different worlds, even though Canadian society in the latter days of the twentieth century had never been as segregated as the USA was in those days.

Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was telling you about Alexandra Pierre and me. I was in love with the fine Haitian sister and she seemed to be growing colder and more distant toward me. I asked her what was wrong and she refused to tell me. One day, I don't know why but I followed her as she walked from campus to her job at the Tim Horton's. There, I saw her kissing Ted, a tall White guy I recognized from school. How to describe how I felt in that moment? I think a knife to the heart would have hurt less. What did I do? I stood there like a powerless bozo and finally, I walked away. I went to the campus library, to a quiet corner near the archives room, the place which had long been my refuge, and there, I sat down and buried my face in my hands.

Now, a grown man shouldn't cry in public but the tears were flowing but I couldn't stop them. Luckily there was no one around me, or so I thought. Well, I was wrong. Are you alright? A soft voice asked me. I looked up, and gasped. A vision of beauty took my breath away. It was Jeannette Saint-Jean, the six-foot-tall, gorgeously curvy and decidedly wealthy French Canadian gal that every man on campus wanted. She smiled at me and asked me if everything was alright. I wiped my eyes, forced a brave smile, and told her I had allergies. Pretty lame, right? I know, but I couldn't tell her the truth. Jeannette sat next to me, and told me she wouldn't leave until I told her the truth. That's just how she was. Nosy, inquisitive, sensitive and downright fearless. I sighed, and then, with a resigned look on my face, I told her what happened. When I finished with my sad little tale, Jeannette gathered me in her arms and hugged me tenderly.

And there you have it, ladies. How I met Jeannette Saint-Jean, the love of my life. We became friends that day, and she helped me put my life back together when my relationship with Alexandra Pierre ended. I was wrong about so many things. Jeannette and I had a lot in common. We're both from immigrant backgrounds. Her mother is a Quebecer but her father is straight from France. My folks and I moved to Quebec from Haiti, a homeland I'm fond of though I don't remember much about it. Jeannette and I became inseparable, and she introduced me to her friends and family. We endured our share of prejudice and disapproval from both of our families. My parents thought I was betraying my proud Haitian heritage and the afro-centric mindset they raised me to have by being with a White woman. And Jeannette's parents simply couldn't stomach the thought of her being with "one of those Blacks". Well, we defied them by sticking together. After graduating from the University of Montreal together, we got married.

My gorgeous and absolutely wonderful wife Jeannette has been my rock ever since. She helped me set up my Law practice. We live in Laval together, and we are the proud parents of four wonderful brats. Our eldest daughter, Sabrina, was born in 1983. Our first son Luther followed in 1986. In 1988, our twins Nicolas and Nicole were born. I thank God for His blessings. It's amazing what a man can do when he has the right woman in his life. Nowadays, I only practice law on occasion. I teach criminal justice at the University of Montreal, and spend much of my free time with my family. Jeannette works for the Bank of Montreal as a branch manager. Recently the two of us fulfilled a lifelong dream of opening a Franco-Haitian restaurant, Chateau Du Cavalier. I'm happy, ladies and gentlemen. I have everything I could ever want and more. And I'm thankful for what I have. Peace.

  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Interracial Love
  • /
  • Quebec Lady For Haitian Gentleman

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 36 milliseconds