"Goddammit! I am tired of our ebony princesses running to be in the arms of ‘whiteys’. Don’t they have any idea how that makes us feel?"

Actually, I never really gave it much thought.

I completely disregarded the notion of how black males reasoned that "white, supremacist, capitalist, patriarchs" have, historically, always taken something that never belonged to them. White men’s insatiable desire to possess everything- emasculate countries, the inhabitants of such countries, and the precious resources of these countries- and whatever they touched in gaining their conquest and exerting their dominion, metaphorically turned from gold to cinder. And this really pissed African American men off.

I was oblivious to how black men felt that white males took whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted and refused to share, especially and particularly their own (white) women. Unable to emulate their dominators, this was not a case of ‘what is good for the goose is good for the gander.’ The many historical accounts of the black men who dared to set their eyes upon a white woman and were lynched, castrated, or worse for doing so flooded their thoughts. And this infuriated African American men like nothing else did.

I was incognizant that men of color felt that since they had been unable to protect/control their environment, that they had to protect/control their women and, perhaps, how much it tore them up inside because they could not protect/control us from the "enemy" when we were willingly sleeping with the "enemy." And this angered African American men to no end.

Unbeknownst to me the intimidation that black men felt, envisioning white men as the usurpers who violated the sanctity of young colored girls, snatching away their innocence, dignity, and virginity as if it were sweetened candy. Standing by helpless and fearful as they watched their related, beloved females get abused, raped, and victimized by a patriarchal representative of the dominant class left an everlasting impression upon them. And this enraged African American men to the point of unleashing their aggression on anyone or anything within reach.

I was unapprised of the internal conflict and daily strife men of color endured against their white counterparts, only to have the competitive "macho" spirit enhanced all the more in a military ambience. The limited mate pool on an itty-bitty piece of foreign land only intensified the situation and added more fuel to an already antagonistic circumstance. And this was like the absolute last straw for African American men!

I inadvertently ignored any and all signs of the ensuing explosive reaction to my decision to unionize with a white man. Everytime Michael looked at me, it was considered as a demonstration of defiance. Everytime Michael kissed me, it was an act of perfidy. And everytime Michael held me in his arms, it was considered as the ultimate cardinal sin against my precious and sacred race.

"Aren’t we good enough?," they queried searching for an answer. Of course, my father, brothers, one living uncle, and so on, are all worthy black males.

"Why does your man have to be, of all people, a white dude?," they interrogated me waiting for my response. Of course, I fell in love with a man, a person, a human being, and not a paragon of any particular race.

"Was it love for me or lust for him?" they demanded to know seeking the truth. Of course, love is not a one-dimensional emotion, wrapped up in a neat little package. He did not force himself upon me. The feeling was mutual between the two of us. However, they were adamant that this ‘white boy’ was taking away one of their "sistas," disputing that Michael would use me for his physical enjoyment and then throw me away afterwards.

"What are you trying to prove or achieve?," they questioned my motives expecting a lame retort. Of course, I just want my basic human needs- companionship, commitment, intimacy, and so forth- met just like everybody else. My intention to marry someone of another race or ethnicity was not planned, it just happened. Race is such an overemphasized issue, so deeply ingrained into our emotional backgrounds, I suspect we may never be able to overcome its impact on our psyches. With no way to make anyone fully understand the nature or source of our love for one another, Michael and I trudge on together.

"And so what about the children?," they asked, thinking that they had the final solution to such an irrational decision. Of course, we did not have any children (yet) and no determination had been made in regards to us (ever) having any.

"So what about them?," I shot back in hopes of ending the cross examination of my personal life. But I fathomed just as well as anyone else what they were getting at. I understood that my interrogators, though their concern was underhanded, were justified considering the history of race relations. Truth of the matter is, "we live in a racist society where people are judged [primarily and mostly] by the color of their skin," asserts Charles King, Director of the Urban Crisis Center in Atlanta, who conducts seminars on racial problems in the workplace (qtd. in May, par. 41). He went on to further add, "Race freedom is available only to whites. They never have to deal with any problem of who they are…light-skinned blacks are born between two worlds…they’re in a twilight zone" (qtd. in May, par. 59).

Until recently, growing up biracial in the United States was an anxiety-laden experience. Finding acceptance in the white communities and, in some cases, in the black communities, as well, was an excruciating experience for some. Biracial offspring would have to deal with jealousy felt towards them by blacks and animosity directed towards them by whites. Unfortunately, they may be born into a culture that sees them as too light to pass for Black and too dark to pass for White. Their features- naturally tanned skin, soft and wavy textured hair, and light-colored eyes- highlight a dual heritage that leaves question marks in the minds of the public. Mulatto children may become the focus of quizzical, often unfriendly stares from people. Often times, they endure being called spiteful and derogatory nicknames such as "zebra," "oreo," "half-breed," "high yellow," and/or "salt-and-pepper maiden." These people, just like every other, long to find acceptance. They want to belong and to be a part of something. They strive to be considered part of a racial kaleidoscopic while still able to express their individuality. Even finding acceptance within their own family structure may pose some difficulty. The African-American relatives may consider the mulatto addition to be a "bright spot" compared to the Caucasian relatives who may view them more as a "smudge." The Caucasian families may be embarrassed by the "browning" of their blue-blooded lineage, and the African-American families may be ashamed of the "diluting" within their ancestry.

Completely unaware that "the personal is political," completely ignorant as to the feelings of men in my own ethnic origin, and against the wishes of many we shared the tiny island with, Michael and I got married anyway. Never afraid to tread into unknown territory, I took a giant leap of faith and followed my heart and instinct. Not intended as a demonstration of defiance, an act of perfidy, or a sin against my precious and sacred race, my decision to marry a man who just happened to be White was an inevitable step taken by someone completely in charge of her own life no matter where it led me. After much contemplation of the issue, I was able to put myself in their position and was able to examine how they felt. Needless to say, I refuse to allow the world to dictate my life. I refuse to live my life by someone else’s standards. Michael and I may not have everything in common, and he may not be able to understand everything there is to know about me or my culture, but the important thing that everyone wants to overlook is that we love each other; and every one of the past fourteen years has been a learning process for the both of us. Happily, I can report that the two of us are going strong and the four of us are doing just fine.

May, Lee. "Light-Skinned Blacks Born Between Two Worlds" LA Times 26 November 1989: 1H.

Note: Would you also like to read parts 1-4 that build up to this Personal Memory Project?

Return to SBS 301 F 2000 PME home page