On Love, Power, and the Illusion of “Simple” Choices

Written by Joni Roberts

Traveler, storyteller, and public health advocate

I’ve been sitting with a conversation I had recently, and the more I think about it, the less simple it becomes.

On the surface, it was a story about a man considering taking a break from his girlfriend while living abroad.

But underneath?

It was about power. Privilege. Desire. And the quiet ways people move through the world without fully interrogating what’s shaping their choices.

What struck me most was this:

It felt like fetishization.

A white man preparing to move to a Black country, suggesting a “break” from his white girlfriend—not because the relationship was broken, but because he wanted the freedom to date local Black women.

Not abstractly. Not hypothetically. Intentionally.

Because he had done it before. Because it “felt good” the last time he was there.

And that raises a harder question:

How much do you love someone if you’re willing to pause the relationship for short-term pleasure?

Not because of distance alone. But because of opportunity.

Because of access.

And that’s where privilege enters the room.

Because his ability to even consider this—to frame it as a casual, temporary exploration—isn’t happening in a vacuum.

It’s shaped by:

• Whiteness

• Americanness

• Perceived (or real) wealth

• The symbolism of a “first-world” life

• The unspoken power of mobility—especially the possibility of offering access to visas, travel, or a different future

All of these things can make someone more desirable in a local context.

Not just as a person—but as an opportunity.

And yet, none of that seemed to factor into his initial thinking.

What he centered was his desire.

Not the implications. Not the dynamics. Not the asymmetry.

Just the experience.

And from a public health lens, that’s what makes this so familiar.

Because this is how inequities often operate.

Decisions that feel “simple” to the person making them—because they have the resources, the access, the safety nets—are rarely simple in the broader system they exist within.

When you have:

• Information

• Mobility

• Financial stability

• Social protection

You can afford to treat things as temporary.

But for someone else, that same interaction might carry:

• Emotional weight

• Economic implications

• Social consequences

• Long-term expectations

And that imbalance matters.

What also stood out to me was what was missing.

At no point—initially—were the women centered in this story.

Not his girlfriend. Not the potential local partner.

Their perspectives weren’t part of the decision-making process.

It wasn’t: How would this impact them? It was: What do I want while I’m there?

And that, too, is telling.

Because this isn’t just about one man or one relationship.

It’s about a broader pattern—how easily people with privilege can move through spaces, relationships, and experiences without fully accounting for the power they carry with them.

And to be fair, there was a moment of reflection.

He eventually recognized that it wouldn’t be fair. That dating locally without intention—without the willingness to stay, commit, or bridge lives—could cause harm.

But it also came after the desire.

After the plan.

After the assumption that this was just something he could do.

And maybe that’s the real tension here.

Not that people have desires. Not that relationships get complicated across distance.

But that we don’t always interrogate why something feels available to us in the first place.

This conversation reminded me of my previous reflections on relationships—but this time, through a male lens.

And it left me with this:

If a decision only feels simple because you hold all the cards— then it probably isn’t simple at all.