I’m not going to engage, I say to myself like a mantra. I was in a strange predicament that I’d never before experienced. It was only until I traveled with him in the American South, that my sitting at a dinner table with a man of another race was interpolated by those around me to be inappropriate. Being in the nicest restaurant in a miserable city exacerbated the situation; he and I could buy the place, yet pairings such as outs were frowned upon and he and I were being stereotyped and judged.
Why was it so offensive for me to be examined as an interracial couple? I can’t help but think of people who judge us as deeply stupid. Even though they might be genuinely decent, I can’t get over the socially inane way they still think.
He has always had to be superior to be treated half as well here. He earns more than most here, he’s healthier, smarter, kinder and more cosmopolitan than almost anyone in this place. Maybe it’s that about him that they really hate? The only breaks from my distress were when the occasionally-enlightened person would address him politely. I live somewhere that’s sensitive to variation, and I expect men and women of every color to be treated properly. But when I deal with people in this town, the ugliness gets me wanting to leave. It feels icky to bear it, and I assume he feels likewise. But he just laughs, shares more kindness, is proud of his differences and happy about his similarities, and generally shows more strength than I can.
It’s frustrating for me to be distraught for him. I have to ignore most people around here…but can you ever totally ignore what people think? Can you ever stop seeing how they stay? Maybe I need a new mantra: back off and let us all love.