Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner
No thanks, I’ll pass on seconds of the racism.
Please pass the awkwardness
A fish rots from the head down. There is no way around it. I have tried countless times to let sleeping dogs lie but when infractions with racist underpinnings hit close to home, the time to be cordial takes a back seat.
It’s truly unfortunate how people’s discrimination and judgment can infiltrate others’ relationships — purposely trying to taint the very essence of the bond between two souls. This is as old as the first person to walk upright. My son experienced this firsthand and shared the outcome with me during a recent conversation in which he bemoaned a few issues he was having with his girlfriend, more specifically, her father.
His birthday was last month and to celebrate he was invited to dinner by her family. Nice gesture. Needless to say, he did not want to go but obliged out of respect for his female counterpart. As his story unfolded, even I could feel the thick tension of the evening.
He was never a fan of the father ever since their first encounter. I met the man once, as did my son’s grandfather, and the consensus was mutual. There is always “one” in a family — oftentimes more.
He continued.
On the menu for this bounty: stale dinner rolls, gelatinous ziti bake, and, as luck would have it, wilted greens masquerading as a salad. Seconds, please! Standard fare found in the northeast region of the country. Once the topic of politics found its place at the table (and it always does), the father took the liberty to espouse the many social issues he felt were a BLACK mark on society. I’m sure you know where this is going.
My son, who does not share in the same ideology as the patriarch of this bunch, chose to ignore the uneducated rhetoric and exercise his Swiss neutrality. That is until he said to my son, “it’s not your fault, I know you come from a broken home.” YASS! That’s fire right there.
This asshole didn’t even hide his judgment… love it.
Last I checked, neither I nor his mother, needed to invest in crazy glue. To say the least, this did not sit well with my son and thus the magical birthday dinner concluded. Raincheck on the store-bought tiramisu.
Ignorance at its finest.
Truth be told when he was telling me this, my first reaction was to laugh.
As he continued to outline the events post soliloquy, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own similar “first dinner” encounters from when I was his age. Wow, that was a parent thing to say. I explained to him experiences such as the one he described would not be his last, especially if he continued to ride shotgun in the interracial dating car.
It was difficult for him to reconcile what transpired that evening, but I advised him to not let it fester and to move on. No need to let this punk’s misguided viewpoint rent space in your head I told him — it’s not worth your time.
He was particularly discouraged by what he perceived as a lack of support from his girlfriend while airing his grievances afterward. Her seemingly oblivious response just added fuel to the fire. As a tight-knit traditional family, dissension amongst the ranks was unheard of even when strong feelings were involved. There would be no secession.
Without question, we value opinions of our closest confidants in life, but ideally, when it comes to relationships (or dating), it shouldn’t matter what said confidants or family think.
Ultimately, you should know yourself well enough to establish what you want from a partner — someone who makes you happy and treats you well, who understands you — and who has your back.
For many people from traditional families, family influence — sometimes approval — on relationships may be of the highest priority.
At a loss for what to impart to my son, I often relate to his current mental state by sharing past experiences that might resonate with his perspective. This one was easy though. In an effort to expound upon the trials and tribulations of interracial dating especially in a time of heightened civil unrest, I told him a story of a parent dinner I had years ago that was less than optimal.
Sharpen your spear
A former girlfriend and I had reached the point in the relationship when I was to meet her parents for the first time. The “meet and greet” dinner invitation was accepted — reluctantly — and a date was set. I remember the girlfriend being very excited about this assembly. I, on the other hand, was less than enthused and overly cautious about the meeting. These occasions are never relaxed — meeting parents for the first time.
Breaking bread with people who might have preconceived ideas of who you are, is always an unwelcome layer of anxiety and discomfort floating above.
If the parents happen to be white and you are, well, not… you never know what could go down. I’d rather be caught naked at a Klan rally.
The dinner itself went okay, for the most part uneventful. No significant disturbances or accusations to speak of, just awkwardness. The memory that sticks out most in my mind from that experience was what the mother had said to the girlfriend days prior to the showdown. In preparation for the evening, the mother was apparently expressing her uneasiness and naiveté for how to welcome me upon arrival.
On the eve of “the dinner,” the girlfriend and I were discussing the pending inquisition and a possible exit strategy. It was during this conversation she felt the need to tell me what her mother had asked her about what to expect when I arrived, “will he have a bone in his nose,” she asked. As if I was some scary native ready to jump out from behind a bush and snatch her up for my human stew. I must admit I was taken aback a bit by this little nugget.
I hadn’t even thought of such a visual before, certainly not as it pertains to me. After my initial WTF, I began to lob a few sarcastic questions over the fence — not too scathing where a rescinded invite would be warranted. Come to think of it, perhaps they should have been.
The fun didn’t stop there. To further paint this masterpiece, her mother continued her ignorance tour with a follow-up question… What do they eat? Not, what does HE eat? Typical inquiry if concerned about a guest’s dietary restrictions. Her failed Mensa membership question… what do THEY eat? Because you know, we only eat white babies, girlfriend’s Italian mothers and their horrendous cooking, and of course uncomfortable situations dripping with racism and ignorance.
The girlfriend, very close to her family, especially her mother, played it off as: that’s just how she is, she doesn’t know any better. Sound familiar? Over the years, I have come to realize this response is all too common — having been in this situation before, many, many times.
Looking back, the absurdity of that night still makes me belly laugh. Clearly, I was keeping the wrong company.
I should have listened to my mother.
Look for love not race
Page three of my parenting playbook, right after how not to drool on yourself in public and right before keeping your hands off a hot stove, is understanding discrimination, in particular, how the world will treat you. This juicy subject made its debut early on but with the caveat that most everything my son will encounter in life will have a thin veil of racism trying to envelop him.
This is the world we live in and to help prepare him for this unfairness, I chose to be as transparent as possible when he was young.
Is it educating or is it parenting, or both… my mind wonders when I field another subject involving racial discrimination and how to respond. This is what I grapple with when discussing the latest societal concern he has.
What would best serve him in this situation?
How can he navigate this issue and not become jaded?
Can he have a perspective of optimism, and realism as well?
Should he feel anger?
There have been many incidents while growing up Black, more specifically dating, where the racist views of parents (white parents in particular) would introduce themselves early on, ultimately being an unstoppable force in the destruction of a potential relationship. This was (is) the norm and of course affected whom I could associate with. I am seeing this now in what my son has to deal with.
My objective is never to snuff out any remaining hope he might have for future relationships, but to be transparent and express my truth — his truth. I typically hang back as to not influence his dating escapades. However, when he confides in me about something that bothers him, I will always be upfront.
It’s best he learns on his own, lives his life, even if that means experiencing disappointment. My goal is to make sure he has the tools to manage those tough times.
I have tried to instill in my son what matters most — an open mind and open heart and not succumbing to those who want to stifle his happiness. The true crime is never about the couple or finding the perfect mate; it’s about the views of others trying to commandeer what is none of their business.
Dating outside your race can be tough and not always successful. It doesn’t help when the deck is stacked against you because of some people’s bias and concerted efforts to destroy your peace of mind.
You shouldn’t have to define what makes you happy to anyone, not your family, not your friends, not anyone. Full stop.
I was lucky. I found my queen. It’s clear she lost the bet, but I try every day to make her feel as though she had won. The world hasn’t changed, but I have. I see the world for what it is and hope my son will as well. I’m confident he will find true happiness with whomever he chooses to spend his life with. Most likely there will be more “first dinners” to get through, racist hurdles to overcome, and interracial dating challenges to face, but in the end, I’ll have his back.
Love… what a wonderful thing.
Maybe the best of things.
Love who you love. PERIOD.
Thank you for reading!