Interracial Dating
The Problem With Interracial Dating… The Parents
Mama said, “love who you love, as long as they are white.”
“Over my dead body!”
“I don’t want that n****r in this house!”
Only the tip of the iceberg of what has been said by white parents after learning their daughters were seeing me; even if just as a friend.
Being Black in a predominately white space, after a while you get used to hearing these hate nuggets. You become uncomfortably comfortable in the inevitability of being unwelcome, and as if given a survival guide at birth, you learn right quick that racist encounters will be part of your life.
I write about my experiences growing up in an atmosphere of hate and discrimination; more specifically about how I’ve had to navigate, at times, a hostile environment that was at the ready to remind me I was as an outsider — someone who did not belong.
Having grown up in the suburbs of Boston in the ’70s and ‘80s my exposure to a diverse landscape was minimal at best. When it came time to date, my mere presence in said setting was quickly defined by my exclusion from the opposite sex. White parents, in particular, made sure of this.
Burn the hope chest
It was early in my relationship with a former girlfriend when her parents got wind of our seeing each other. As you might expect they did not hold back their true feelings about our interracial union.
Her mother especially — someone who is old-school racist in that she didn’t hide her disgust for her daughter’s choice of a partner couldn’t help but throw out every racist trope imaginable. At one point during one of her racist tirades, she squeezed off the final kill shot: “If you continue to see that Black bastard, I will disown you.”
I hadn’t yet met this woman when she made this declaration. All she knew of me was that I was not white; which apparently was more than enough reason to let her racist flag fly. In fact, in typical calculated fashion, a few peripheral relatives or henchmen (cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.) I had the displeasure of meeting previously — perhaps to “size me up” before the matriarchal tribunal took place — reported back to her with their bigoted summation.
The mother had already made up her mind about me (about the color of my skin at least) and felt it necessary to condemn her only daughter for disrespecting the family.
Needless to say, moving forward, tensions got real right quick.
To add fuel to the fire, during the “get to know your partner’s history” phase with this former girlfriend, I learned of a past abusive relationship she was in — a relationship with a young white dude who, surprisingly (or not), was accepted by her parents, particularly by the mother.
This is the power of a racist ideology and how it blinds someone to what is right before their eyes; in this case, a child’s happiness (and safety). From time to time I think of how the parents of that former girlfriend were more vehemently opposed to her seeing a young Black man than of her being in an abusive relationship with someone who was white.
How do I know this?
Having had many sit-downs and strategic sessions consoling former (white) partners has led to solidifying my expertise in the dynamics of interracial dating and its navigation in a world of white supremacy. Usually in the role of “comforter,” I often found my feelings brushed aside even though I was the one whom parents warned their kids to stay away from. The thought of being called a “dirty n****r” just for expressing your love for someone, is enough to screw with anyone’s sense of self.
Over time, I did get used to this toxic behavior on the part of white parents, the physical threats (as disturbing as it may sound), and the sheer inhumanity of such treatment. If dating outside my race, these experiences came to be routinely expected.
By this stage in my life, it felt as though I had already received a Master’s in Social Injustice and Racist Studies and was now going for a Ph.D. in Understanding White Supremacy and its impact on the parent/child relationship. When it comes right down to it, this disturbing behavior is never about the child or their well-being. The real issue is with the parents’ racist beliefs and their inability to step outside of their own interests and be accepting of a child’s happiness.
Many white parents were usually relentless in their directives when matters of interracial dating were in play. I mention this because I have never been accepted by them. Not once. Sure there have been occasions of reluctant tolerance or “dragged by the heels” open-mindedness, but never full authentic acceptance.
I never willingly sought out these experiences with white girlfriends (or their parents). I wish my past had involved more welcoming interactions with the white community however we don’t choose who we have feelings for, who comes into our lives, and who touches our souls. Exposure has a lot to do with who enters your world and with whom you form a connection.
Anyway, this has been my experience.
In the end, what matters most?
Though conditioned to a point, as any Black person would be in a predominately white space, throughout my childhood I knew I had little interest in socializing with only one shade of people. I genuinely enjoyed the company of all types of people but given where I lived, and where I grew up, diversity was something I had to discover much later in life.
As a kid, my surroundings were beyond my control but eventually, my social landscape did widen for the better; around the time it does for most people. College became the environment I needed, that I longed for — an environment that fostered meeting people I could relate to and to whom I might not have previously been exposed.
I felt welcome. I felt accepted. A clear difference from how I felt being told throughout my early years I wasn’t allowed to date someone because of my skin color.
Exposure to different cultures, customs, and perspectives, as well as new relationships that hopefully would not follow that old script of racist exclusion, was now defining my social world. This I embraced wholeheartedly. However, looking back I do wish that while growing up I had more opportunities to spend time with those from other cultures (especially my own).
The mindset of forbidding a child from dating someone, or from my experience, keeping them from getting involved with someone of a different race has always both fascinated and disturbed me. I am well aware of the history of racism in this country and the disturbing views many still have of interracial relationships. This is nothing new and although things have improved, by all accounts it will be quite some time before we can rid our world completely of this malignant way of thinking.
You shouldn’t have to justify who you choose to spend your time with or toward whom your heart gravitates. What matters most is who you connect with.
You love who you love no matter where they come from or what they look like. In a time when social injustices are becoming the norm, and the pressures at home mounting, it’s a wonder if we’ll ever truly be free to live life the way we want and to share it with whomever we want.
Thank you for reading!
Follow me on Twitter: @gcorreiawrites
