A Thought on Interracial Relationships.

When Patrick and I met, in November of 2016, I was a year into my journey of Black liberation. I was working at Goodwill Industries and my friend Olivia, still one of my best friends, had opened my eyes to the beauty of Blackness. She talked to me about Black art and Black movies, Black poets and Black activists. She was cool and hilarious, outgoing and bubbly, crazy smart and spontaneous and unbelievably proud of her heritage. Proud to be Black. I had never met anyone like her before. I tell her often that she changed my life the moment I met her and I mean it.

Olivia introduced me to an aspect of Blackness that I had never seen before. Blackness that was vast and deep. Blackness that was goofy, grounded, vulnerable and open. Blackness that enveloped me. Blackness that left me curious and wanting more. Blackness that made me over flow with self-love and a deep appreciation for the texture of my hair and richness of my skin. I had never looked at Black people with such wonder before and it was powerful and exciting and it still is.

So, I was in deep when I met Patrick. I knew that a seed had been planted and that the trajectory of my life was interrupted. Things that I didn’t talk about before I couldn’t help but to bring them up in conversation. Things that I went years, decades, without noticing caught my attention. I think that’s what it means to be woke. It’s like getting glasses and finally being able to see the world clearly.

Our relationship took off fast. Within two weeks of meeting we were official, after a month of dating we were in love and a year and a half in, we got married. The reason that our relationship took off so quickly is because Patrick was not only on the same page as me but he was also on his own journey. I remember going to his apartment and seeing a book by James Cone called The Cross and the Lynching Tree on his night stand. A book that is described as “reconciling the gospel message of liberation with the reality of Black oppression and suffering during the lynching era.”

Before I came into the picture, Patrick was doing the work. The necessary work, that white men in America should be doing. Making sure they know all of the ways that they benefit in society because of the color of their skin and their sex. The ways that their ancestors designed systems without Black people, people of color or women in mind. The way that religion, in this case Christianity, has been manipulated and defiled in order to oppress. These were topics that were already on his mind and on his lips before I ever came into the picture.

People ask me often what it’s like being married to a white person at a time like this. They ask me if Patrick is comfortable having these conversations. They ask me if we’ve talked about racism and oppression and if he is understanding and receptive. The answer is, I wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t. When we met, I knew too much. I had seen too much. I was aware of too many things. Things that made it impossible for me to enter into a relationship or even a friendship with someone who wasn’t interested in talking about it.

We’ve been together for almost four years and Patrick works hard and is diligent but he still doesn’t always get it right. Sometimes he says things that are problematic. Sometimes he perpetuates stereotypes and does things that show his privilege in society. In those moments I don’t let what happened go. I address it. We talk about it and he works on it. It’s not easy. At times it’s really hard but we’re both willing to do the work. We just keep doing the work.

I’m Black and I’m bursting with Black love and fighting for Black liberation and I still, deep inside of me, hold anti-Black beliefs. It’s true and to try and deny it would be to deny reality. It’s because I am a product of our society. A society that was founded on white supremacist values. Values that, even without any effort on our part, become entrenched in our psyche and subconsciously feed us messages. Messages that align with the whiteness agenda.

If I hold them and I am deceived by those beliefs at times, I do not expect Patrick to be completely void of them. What I expect from Patrick is a devotion to constantly working to be the best version of himself. For me that means being dedicated to self-reflection and self-evaluation. That means thinking before he speaks and evaluating the root of his thoughts.

If a racist thought crosses Patrick’s mind I expect him to challenge, interrogate and fight that belief. I expect him to wrestle with it and pick it apart, until it’s shown to be without merit and it ultimately dies. That is was it means to be anti-racist. It means that at the very sight of racism or prejudice within ourselves we attack it. We shine a light on it and we refuse to let it go back to it’s dark and evil place of hiding. We expose it and we destroy it. That’s what I expect from Patrick and that’s what I expect from myself.

I didn’t set out to marry a white man, especially on the cusp of my Black awakening but then I met Patrick. Our love has not interrupted my journey but rather made it more beautiful and robust. When I think about the future I do not envision a world that is separate but equal but rather a world that is equitable and fair; one that we all get to enjoy together. My relationship is a reflection of my values.

My belief that we can exist and that we can thrive together. That we can choose to reject the lies that we’ve been told about superior and inferior. That we can redistribute power. That we can, as much as is possible with this system, step out of our privilege and refuse to accept more as others continue to receive less. That we can love someone who looks different than us without contributing it to being colorblind. That we can, one day, completely rebuild this system and create something that allows us all to thrive.

Until next time friends,

XOXO- N.