All of Us Here and You Picked Her?

Covert Racism

As I get older, I have become less patient with ignorance as well as covert racism. In my blog, “A Woman Who Happens To Be Black” was written to squash those men who looked at me as some “African-Queen-Freakazoid-Fetish”. Yet, its premise is I am a woman who just happens to have a darker hew than those cherished women you see in beauty and fashion magazines.

What has really gotten in my craw are those non-Black women, particularly White women who don the look of disgust when they see me and my rainbeaux together. I have ignored their glares and stares for the most part; however, recently it has become so blatant that I have to write about my experiences.

I'll NEVER Make Concessions

When I see non-Black women with their partners, I have never glared nor stared. Should I witness a happy couple, I am giddy inside because everyone deserves to be adored and loved. I refuse to make excuses for my happiness and for loving whom I love regardless of hue. I sometimes ponder what is so disgusting about my beaux choosing me. Then, it dawns on me that it has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with the individual who finds our love relationship out of order. I have never made concessions for loving whom I chose to love. I have not bothered to ask a White woman why my being in an interracial relationship may cause some of them to be uncomfortable. Why should I? I mean, should I ask them why does my literal existence bother them? Wouldn’t such a question make them feel very uncomfortable? That is exactly what is psychologically going on when another woman looks at my interracial relationship and ignores the fact that what stand before her is two individuals who have waited a lifetime to find each other.

The Upper Hand

Interracial relationships continue to baffle the minds of many. This mindset baffles mine. It is difficult to understand how my interracial relationship interferes with the lives of onlookers. When I look in the mirror, I recognize a beautiful, fit, intelligent, and robust woman. I see a woman whom most men would want to adore, cherish and love.

Of course, I am not every man's type and that is perfectly fine. I am the type for the man in my life. He is very content with whom he chose to fall in love with - me. So, when we get stranger stares, it is almost laughable. Are those folk that miserable that they cannot appreciate the variety of love relationships? What sad specimens they are.

I know many Black women who are married interracially and have been for years. They have had similar experiences; but that chosen to turn those uncomfortable stares into ideas for improving love chances for other Black women. One of my most admired friends is relationship coach Lorraine Spencer, founder of Interracial Marriage and Family.

For almost 30 years, Lorraine has supported singles by providing advice on finding a quality and loving relationship. If that relationship happens to be with someone from another nationality or ethnic group, Lorraine’s focus was always about quality. Like many Black women who promote interracial relationships, Lorraine has been criticized for her focus. Nonetheless, she continues to provide sound advice that has resulted in many successful marriages.

Great-Grandmother Knows Best

It is utter nonsense for another woman regardless of hue to be a hater because of my interracial bliss. Love crosses all nationalities, ethnicities, religions, socio-economic borders. When I see a non-Black woman with a Black man and they appear happy and content, I am happy and content for them as well.

There are too many people on this earth for some to hate me due to whom I love. I am not worried about the haters. I will continue to live my life as prescribed by me. It is just quite irritating to get the stares and sometimes vocal discontents. As my great-grandmother, Lillie Mae Jackson, used to say, “Oh, they will get over it. If not, oh well!”

© 2015 Clarissa Burton

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