On Interracial Relationships

I can't believe we're still having this conversation in 2013.

Oh, wait. Yes I can.

For those of you who are as of yet blissfully unaware, Richard Cohen published an opinion piece on November 11 about Chris Christie, the Tea Party, and 2016 presidential prospects. That was all fine and good until he got to this gem of a paragraph:

"Today’s GOP is not racist, as Harry Belafonte alleged about the tea party, but it is deeply troubled — about the expansion of government, about immigration, about secularism, about the mainstreaming of what used to be the avant-garde. People with conventional views must repress a gag reflex when considering the mayor-elect of New York — a white man married to a black woman and with two biracial children. (Should I mention that Bill de Blasio’s wife, Chirlane McCray, used to be a lesbian?) This family represents the cultural changes that have enveloped parts — but not all — of America. To cultural conservatives, this doesn’t look like their country at all."

Thank you for confirming that I never want to read anything that has your name in the by-line.

"People with conventional views must suppress a gag reflex when considering the mayor-elect of New York - a white man married to a black woman and with two biracial children." Ah. Alrighty. So I guess every time one of the millions of bi- and multi-racial people in the country walks by a person with 'conventional' views, people just start gagging all over the place. Let's just ignore the facts that 86% of Americans support interracial marriage and that you have for some reason twisted 'conventional' to mean 'insanely racist'. People that actually marry and reproduce outside of their race are just unnatural. How dare they marry for love and not take into consideration what their partner looks like! Children who can't be easily categorized just make people sick!

THE HORROR

"(Should I mention that Bill de Blasio's wife, Chirlane McCray, used to be a lesbian?)" No. No, you should not. Why? 1) "Used to be a lesbian" is not an insult in any way, shape, or form, as you clearly mean it to be here, and 2) that has nothing to do with her current marriage, her husband's ability to do his job as the mayor, or the point of your article titled "Christie's tea-party problem". At. All. That point is unnecessary, irrelevant, and it makes me wonder why you chose to include it - to place another nail in the coffin of your reputation, perhaps?

"To cultural conservatives, this doesn't look like their country at all." Yeah, don't you just wish we could go back to the good old days when it was illegal to stain a white family tree with a marriage to a black person? It's such a shame that people are slowly realizing that skin color doesn't have to determine their romantic partners.

Mr. Cohen, let me teach you something. You're probably unaware of this, since I highly doubt that you've ever been in an interracial relationship in your life, but those of us who have been are used to this kind of ignorant crap. People like you exist everywhere. How do I know? My family is a wonderful blend of Scotch-Irish, Native American, and black. All of my cousins on my mom's side of the family are biracial. We have all races in my family and everyone is loved - what they look like should not and does not matter. We're family. The end.

Wethers women rocking the multiracial look.

Then there's the fact that for two years of my life, I was in a relationship with a white guy - yes, the very relationship you say makes people with conventional views gag. Contrary to what you would probably expect, the majority of people did not care that our skin tones didn't match. Most people supported us! But then, of course, there's that pesky 14% of people who still refuse to believe that skin color doesn't have to be a factor in a relationship. I got used to double takes when we held hands, even from people who would have voiced their support if asked. I was prepared for the surprised, "Your boyfriend's white?!" I have heard every single variation of the jungle fever jokes and they are not funny.

Those were the easy reactions. I will never be able to explain how it feels to find out that people at your boyfriend's high school have been calling you racial slurs. And you will never know what it's like to have to face one of those people in public, look him in the eyes, and smile with all of the grace and poise you can muster because you are determined not to give him anything else to attack.

Interracial relationships have been getting hate since the dawn of racism. Your lovely piece of work is not the first to try to convince people that they should stay with a partner they 'match'. Let's not forget about the infamous Cheerios commercial that had to disable comments on its YouTube video because of the racism and anger that Cheerios had the nerve to feature an interracial couple. You're not the first. You're not new.

So those of us who have no issues with experiencing the world around us, the wonderful people who choose their partners based on a mutual love and respect and not off of the amount of melanin they have in their skin, the Bill de Blasios and Chirlene McCrays will all continue to love. We will continue to ignore the hateful comments of misguided people like you. And we will keep breaking down the barriers that you are trying so desperately to reconstruct. 

Why acting "White" is ridiculous

Today I'm going to take a bit of a different approach on this blog. Rather than just give you a rundown on what's been happening in my life, I'm going to talk about an issue that's bothered me basically since I was old enough to become aware of it.

I am not like the stereotypical black girls that you see on television. I am terrible at speaking in ebonics (and you really don't want to hear me try). I can't dance, but I will anyway. I'm not from the inner city of anywhere. I don't have a good-for-nothing absent father. I am a nerdy bibliophile from the Midwestern suburbs and I'm damn proud of it. However, there are many times when it seems like my peers - of all colors - are bent on making me realize how I don't conform to what they think I'm supposed to be.

"You know, if someone only heard your voice over the phone, they would never know you were black."
"I mean, no offense or anything, but you do act pretty white."
"You're not really black."

Do tell me more about how the color of my skin is invalidated because of my personality.

When one looks at my background, it's pretty obvious why I don't fit any of the stereotypes people hold. Because my father is a doctor and I'm from a two-parent household - another stereotype busted - I come from an affluent family. The Illinois suburbs where I'm from consist of mostly white people. I attended private school through eighth grade and was usually the only claim to diversity my school had. From 5-7th grade, my friend Trinity and I were the only two black people in the entire grade. It makes sense that my core friend group was mostly white - white was the only thing around me. And while my immediate family and godparents were all black, all of them were people that spoke and acted like me. I was a dreamy kid, but I could read people. I saw how they were acting, heard how they spoke, and I imitated it. Eventually, that became a core part of who I was.

Even then, when I was young, I saw the portrayals of how black people were 'supposed' to be on television. I was hyper-aware of the fact that I didn't fit that mold, and it bothered me. These were the only people that looked like me on television - was that the way that I was supposed to act? Was there something wrong about me because I didn't act this way?

When I hit high school, it was made obvious to me that according to both white and black people, apparently, there was.

Public high school was the first time in my life that there was actually a substantial population of black people at the school I attended. Even though I was then able to surround myself with black people, my core friend group remained mostly white. The reason why was simple - that's who I was most comfortable with. The majority of the other black girls at school never ceased to point out how I didn't speak like them, that I acted too 'proper,' that I was too white to be black - that I did not match their idea of 'blackness'.

I got used to snickers and rolled eyes when I spoke or didn't understand a reference they made. After my freshman year, I learned to avoid saying anything in front of them, because I knew that the moment I did, my voice and opinion would be ridiculed. I didn't understand why I was being made fun of - I was black just like they were. How, then, was I acting white when all I was doing was being myself? If I was black, shouldn't the way I was acting be called acting 'black,' too?

The same label of 'other' was placed on me by my white peers as well, but always in a more subtle way and usually with no ill-intentions - though they would never understand the negative effect their words had. Someone would remark that they didn't know any black people, and when I pointed out that they knew me, the response would be, "Well, yeah, but you're not really black." Innocent conversations would leave me out - my white friends could try out hairstyles on each other or share makeup or talk about tanning. None of those hairstyles would work with my curls, their makeup would have looked absolutely ridiculous on my skin, and there was no way that I needed to get any darker. The rise of social media already pointed out to me with every group picture that I was the lone dark face among my friends.

Prom 2011, exhibit A - gee, I wonder which one is me?

Worse were conversations where people would somehow 'forget' I was black. I still remember vividly one break during a shift at the water-park where I was a lifeguard. Normally, people sat quietly around the table for their ten minute break and ate a snack or refilled their water bottles. This time, however, several of the other lifeguards were complaining about how black people couldn't swim and always had to be saved. I stared at them, wide-eyed, waiting for them to remember that I was sitting there - but they never did. "I'm right here!" I finally said incredulously. "Clearly black people can swim since I became a lifeguard."

There was an awkward silence filled only by the buzzing of the air conditioning unit.

"Well, yeah," said one of them, leaning against the wall and giving me a pitying look, "but you're not really black, are you?"

Eventually, I understood the place society had given me - I was too black to be white and too white to be black. What I didn't understand was where that left me.

I didn't become truly comfortable with the balance between who I was and who society expected me to be until I went away to college. Immediately, during the first week, I found other girls like me - the token black girls in their friend groups who were made fun of for being too white, the Oreos.

Tokens unite.

While I had been loved and accepted by my friends from home, who are absolutely wonderful people, it was with this new group of friends that I finally felt understood. It made me realize that there was another way to act 'black' - our way. Then my thoughts went one step further - why on earth did we label the way people acted with color, and why was the way to act 'black' so constricted?

There's more than one way to "act white," to use that flawed terminology. You can be a valley girl or a punk. You can be a skater or a prep. You can be a redneck or a city slicker. You can be a nerd. You can be a jock. The possibilities of what society considers 'white' are endless.

Black people are not allowed this same privilege. There are only two ways to 'act black' according to mainstream America. One is to buy into the gangster culture that is performed on televisions and radios everyday. The other is to fit into the idea of the "good, churchgoing black folk," the lens that Hollywood uses when it attempts to prove that it can portray black people positively.

If you don't fit into either of those two categories, which many people don't, congratulations - you have just been labeled as white. Your skin color and the prejudices that come with it are irrelevant. The racism you will still inevitably experience is irrelevant. Your family history and personal culture - irrelevant. You are not really black. You do not fit neatly into the box.

These categories aren't just limited, they're demeaning. For example, they imply that to be articulate and use the accepted grammatical structure of English is incompatible with blackness - this is a solely white characteristic. "White" encompasses the majority of ways that people can act, as if those with light skin have a monopoly on all of the ways to be. "Acting white" erases not just black culture, but all minority cultures that are just as present in the United States.

It has taken me twenty years, but I'm finally able to be happy outside of the box society created for me. People still attempt to force me to fit their perceptions - just two weeks ago I got the "You're a very white person" comment from someone when he was told that no, I cannot twerk, and when I say I'm from outside Saint Louis, the stock response from people who know the area, is "Oh, East Saint Louis?" Although those comments annoy me to no end, they don't make me feel uneasy anymore.

I am who I am. I am my own version of black. And anyone who can't grasp that can get out of my way.