By Melody Benjamin
My family ancestry is a Creole motley of European, Latin, African and Native American descents. However, for the sake of a government checklist, I identify with being black. Because of my diverse background and upbringing, race has never been an issue to me. I have always had friends from varied ethnicities; I pride myself in being a part of a social medley.I met my boyfriend nearly three years ago. We met at work. Our relationship, although not without its obstacles, has been a pretty incredible journey. We’ve provoked the worst and inspired the best in each other; all the while remaining best friends. He’s handsome, tallish, funny, smart, lovable–-and white.
We contrast in comparison. He’s fair-skinned, freckled, has strawberry-blonde hair and deep, dark-green eyes. My skin is olive in complexion, my eyes are mossy-brown, my hair is dark-brown and wildly curly, or flat ironed straight and curled, depending on the day. I am high-strung, demanding and neurotic. He’s laid-back, un-rushed and quietly nervous. It’s actually in our differences that we compliment each other.
After the first outing with my boyfriend, I casually mentioned to my mom that I went on a date–with a guy–a white guy. Specifically, an Irish-American. Of the European descents that are embedded in our bloodline, Irish happens to be one of them. What I didn’t expect was my mother’s disapproval. I even stumbled a bit. Needless to say, I was angry. I was heartbroken. Her response was unfathomable. I wasn’t raised with prejudice or bias. Why had my choice commanded, what I thought to be, an ill-suited response?
My mother is a concerned and loving parent, and likely responded out of fear of the hurdles that interracial couples face. I still don’t understand her reasons for concern, but they’re her reasons. After some time passed, her reasons for disapproval changed. Her reasons are now more obscure; suddenly, race is no longer the issue, and the reasons no longer black and white. I’m learning to regard people’s grounds for belief, instead of exhausting myself to understand or alter them. After all, I want people to respect my values and choices in kind.
Parental disapproval is among the most common consequences to interracial
relationships. However, my boyfriend’s family was very accepting from the onset. Race was never an issue. His family and I mutually adore and annoy one another, the normal way of familial interaction. We aren’t always in sync. Even still, I’m treated like a respected member of the family. The only pang of alienation that I’ve felt from familiar faces stems from my own kin. Usually, parents have an idea of what’s best for you, and oftentimes, it’s a piece to a different puzzle–their puzzle. Feeling that your dream is insufficient is ostracising, but time has a way of working things out, especially concerning family matters.
From strangers, we receive varied reactions. Sometimes smiles are sent our way as we stroll affectionately through the mall. Sometimes we have to repeat to the waitress, and loudly, that we are to-geth-er. Sometimes people stare with a slapped face, feeling betrayed. Sometimes they whisper and point. It’s fascinating to see who will be the one to send the smile or the furrowed brow. There’s no consistency of approval or disapproval with a certain race of people; these encounters are as interesting and individual as the persons involved. Although some of these experiences are awkward and unnerving, we’ve decided only to allow the experiences we create impact our relationship. We can’t control how people respond to us, but we can control how we respond to them and to each other.
We’ve learned to surround ourselves with open-minded and loving people. We’ve learned to create our own world, approving only the kind and accepting admission into it. We both have friends that are either married or dating interracially. Whenever we go out and see interracial couples or biracial children, we smile and make a spectacle of it. It’s nice to see that we’re not alone.