Interracial Family Organization

Interracial Couple Denied Marriage

// October 31st, 2009 // No Comments » // In the News, Social Injustice

On June 12, 1967, the United States Supreme Court decided in the Loving vs. Virginia case in favor of Richard and Mildred Loving. The decision meant that from that moment on, it would be illegal for ANY state to restrict the marriage of two people on the basis of race, citing the following:

Marriage is one of the “basic civil rights of man,” fundamental to our very existence and survival…. To deny this fundamental freedom on so unsupportable a basis as the racial classifications embodied in these statutes, classifications so directly subversive of the principle of equality at the heart of the Fourteenth Amendment, is surely to deprive all the State’s citizens of liberty without due process of law. The Fourteenth Amendment requires that the freedom of choice to marry not be restricted by invidious racial discrimination. Under our Constitution, the freedom to marry, or not marry, a person of another race resides with the individual and cannot be infringed by the State.

There is patently no legitimate overriding purpose independent of invidious racial discrimination which justifies this classification. The fact that Virginia prohibits only interracial marriages involving white persons demonstrates that the racial classifications must stand on their own justification, as measures designed to maintain White Supremacy.

Unfortunately, on October 6, 2009, a Louisiana couple found that there are still Justices who are willing to go against the law to prevent – or at least discourage – interracial marriages. Beth and Terence McKay contacted Keith Bardwell, a Justice of the Peace in Hammond, LA, who has been in his position for 34 years, to have him officiate their ceremony. Imagine Beth’s shock when Bardwell’s wife informed her that he does not perform marriages for mixed-race couples where one of the individuals is black, citing the reasoning as concern for the potential lack of social acceptance for their future children.

Our views have been expressed without restraint…

Kat Robertson:

• So, Mr. Justice of the Peace, Sir. How’s Life 4 U These Days? :)
• JP Keith Bardwell = Trick Daddy. He Just Luv Da Kids.

Laura Stillman:

• Interracial couple denied marriage license in La.
• I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Jennifer Morris:

• Interracial couple denied marriage license in La.

Now that WE have expressed our views, we’re curious to know what our readers think… how do you feel about this situation? I have to say, after reflection (and time to cool down) my reaction has turned from complete disgust to a mixture of disgust and relief. Up until this point, people would roll their eyes and dismiss claims that interracial couples were discriminated against. No one really understood what multicultural families face. Now, the entire nation has no choice but to digest this situation and respond to it.

The Stillmans

// October 30th, 2009 // 7 Comments » // Love and Happiness

LAURA is a co-founder for Interracial Family Organization and blogs at I Am the Glue.

I remember him showing up to the Spring Dance when I was 15 and he was 16. We had been flirting and I gladly walked out to the parking lot with him, where we kissed for the first time.
I remember riding on the city bus, going to go see the movie “Breakin’” at the theater. He used to show off all his ‘fly’ poppin’ and lockin’ skills to me. I was impressed.

I remember slow dancing, while on our knees, at my sister’s house, right after my first son was born. I was trying to prove that “I Need Love” by LL Cool J was a good song to slow dance to. We had been just sitting around on the floor listening to music.

I remember getting completely trashed on Mad Dog 20/20 and trying to teach his no rhythm girlfriend how to dance in the living room of the apartment that we all shared.

I remember when he and his next girlfriend, who was pregnant, and their 1 year old daughter, came to a dinner party my husband and I were having. My boys were 4 years and 4 months old. We played a mean game of Pictionary-men against women. The men cheated.

I remember 8 years of a few letters and phone calls to keep in touch while I lived many, many states away with my family.

I remember that when I came back home for a family reunion, I looked up the bestest friend I had ever had. He was a single dad and I was a single mom. We reminisced and I invited him to my reunion in the mountains so we could visit some more.

My aunt and my sisters said, “You are going to marry him.” … “You all are insane.” I told them… “He has been my best friend for years.”

I remember that a few months after I moved back, he and I had started going out to dinner and dancing and sending emails and I started to get butterflies when I drove to his house to see him.

“What is that?” I wondered. Can you really fall in love with someone who has been such a close friend for so long?

22 years exactly from the date of our first kiss, he asked me to marry him, on one knee, in a courtyard at the high school where we met each other.

June 30, 2007, he and I stood in front of our children, our families, and our friends, in a park across the street from that high school. I knew, the only person I could EVER grow old with is him.

Who knew Prince Charming had been standing right next to me all those years? When I finally opened my eyes to that possibility, there was this amazing, intelligent, talented, sexy, honorable, hard working, romantic, hilarious man/father/lover/friend. Who is now my husband.

We have 7 of the most unique, interesting, and beautiful (inside and out) children. We are witnessing them, one right after another, transitioning into young adults. It is exciting and scary. We have been able to give them stability, protection, our love, and the perfect example of what we want for them.

We want each of them to find a best friend to spend the rest of their lives with.

Biracial Children Dish on Being Biracial, Part 2

// October 28th, 2009 // No Comments » // Blended Living

Check out the following video interview of five biracial children sharing their views on living in biracial skin. {Also be sure to check out Biracial Children Dish on Being Biracial, Part 1}

These are the children of Laura Stillman

The Robertsons

// October 28th, 2009 // 3 Comments » // Love and Happiness

KATHLEEN is a co-founder for Interracial Family Organization and blogs at For the Love of Chaos.

My husband and I have had quite the life together… I mean that in every sense of the phrase – every good sense, and every bad one. It’s extremely frustrating to have people just not ‘get it’ … to have them tell you that dating a black man means that your life is going to be full of illegitimate children for whom you will be pulling drive-bys just to try to get some child support out of him, and if you are lucky enough for him to stick around then he’s going to cheat on you, beat on you, and never hold down a job. {Wow.} People can be pretty ridiculous and they have these overly imaginative views of ‘the black man’ without realizing how many white men fit the same categories. It’s silly. ANY man can be any combination of those things. My mother was abused by a white man. Oddly enough, despite alllll the stereotypes, I’ve never been abused by my husband. And, yes, he has pulled an income the entire time we’ve been together. Even when he was unemployed, he sold his DREAM truck that he bought when he was in the NFL and used the money to start buying and selling cars to turn a profit until he found a job. My man is good like that. Family first. Frills later.

I think the one thing that intrigues people about us is that neither of us got ‘lost’ in our relationship. One of the stereotypes I’ve heard about black/white interracial couples is that the white person tends to act “ghetto” or “black” (the “black” really gets to me…. how can you consider someone to be “acting” black unless you generalize the entire black population to fit one specific type? RACISM… check.) or the black person tends to act “proper” or “white” (again, the “white” thing really gets to me too, much for the same reason). I don’t like stereotypes. At.all. Yes, there are types of people, and there is no denying that. But to view a person a certain way simply because of how they look is absurd. If you get to know a person or are around them for any length of time, I can understand acknowledging that they act like a certain “type” of person, but not that they act “white” or “black” – that’s just stupid.

Anyway, one of the negative associations that have become connected to interracial couples where the woman is white and the man is black seems to always be one of two things: either she is a freak (promiscuous, easy, down-for-whatever) so she is considered trashy or he is an Uncle Tom (the whole ‘tries to act white’ thing again) which basically means that he makes very focused attempts at conforming to mainstream ‘white’ society and thus abandoning and/or ignoring his roots and his black heritage. While YES I will admit I’ve seen BOTH of those “types” of people, that is by NO means an honest representation of the interracial culture. Just because we’ve joined our lives does not mean that we’ve blended into one another. Can’t we swirl? Keep our own culture while adopting the other? Oh, yeah… we can swirl – and we do it beautifully.

My husband and I have had a ROCKY 12 years, no doubt about that. We started dating in high school and had our first child barely 2 years later when I was 17 and he was 18. We got married directly out of high school. I was 18 and he was 19. We had no idea what we were doing. We had no help; we had no examples. We just had each other and one mutual idea: we would do this, and we would do it together. No matter what we went through, we stayed true to that. Three months later, we had our second child. Three months after that, he started college. 8 months after that, I started college. 5 months later, we had our third child. 2 weeks later, I was starting my second semester. We didn’t have time to slow down. We didn’t have time to breathe. We still didn’t know what we were doing. By this time, I was 19 and he was 20. We were broke, we were in college, and we had three kids. But, we still had each other and no matter how badly we wanted to claw one another’s eyes out at any given time… no matter how much we resented the way life was going or how hard things had become… no matter how much we wanted to give up on it all and just accept our losses, somehow we stayed loyal to that pact: we were determined to do this thing called life… and we were determined to do it together.

Fast forward, here we are nearly 12 years in the future… college grads, 5 children, and things have started to slow down a bit. We’ve settled into our own. No marriage is ever perfect… especially one that the whole world seems to be against. But the fact that we jumped every hurdle and overcame every obstacle stacked against us attests for one thing: we’re in this; and we’re in it together. There is no giving up; there is no counting losses. There is accepting the bad with the good, nursing the sickness and appreciating the health, waiting out the lack in preparation for abundance, and through whatever circumstances we face, always knowing that our love can conquer anything – because it already has. I cherish this man because he was made for me. We’re complete opposites. He’s rap. I’m Gospel… R&B… Alternative… Rock… Country… He’s a smoker. I’m not. He’s TV. I’m computer. He’s old school cars. I’m mommy vans. He’s Ebonics. I’m proper English. He’s sexy. I’m sexy. Ok, so we have that. But the point is, he doesn’t have to be like me for me to accept him… and I don’t have to act like someone I’m not to impress him.

That’s what it’s all about. Being you. And being loved for it.

The Sparrows

// October 27th, 2009 // 4 Comments » // Love and Happiness

My name is Donna K. Sparrow, formerly Miner. So I wasn’t born a Sparrow, I have certainly earned the honor. My husband, Antonio, and I met in 1992 at Northwest Missouri State University, way up in little Maryville, MO. Although neither of us were from that area, our paths were meant to cross at that time, in that place. He was (and still remains) the sexiest man I had ever laid my big blues upon. He was there on a full ride football scholarship, far from the mean streets of Los Angeles that had shaped a big part of who he was. His mother, or rather her addictions and their inevitable consequences, and his father, or rather his absence, had also taken their tolls on this man but God must have been keeping an eye out for him because there he was, with all of his strength and determination, actually interested in what made me who I was. Although the truth is that much of who I would become would be because of this man and the journey we would soon begin together, I feel that most of my upbringing to that point was God’s way of preparing me to partner Antonio down this long and interesting road we would soon be on.

I am the oldest of six daughters, and I have one brother. My parents worked tirelessly in an attempt to provide for such a large family and with that came a lot of work for the oldest of their six daughters. I feel that my beautiful mother did right by me and as a result, and from a very young age, I could complete most tasks that even many young mothers weren’t equipped to deal with. These are the lessons that would become so critical upon meeting Antonio, and learning of what our potential future together would look like.

I knew he was a “package deal” from the get go. He was the oldest of nine kids and had been an only child for the first nine years of his life. With the worsening of his mother’s addictions and the continuing absence of all the so called fathers of the kids, he knew the responsibility would eventually fall to him. The fruition of his true childhood dream, to someday play in the NFL, was surely his ticket to something better, not just for him but also for his siblings. This, however, would not come to pass. As things began worsening in the lives of the other kids, we abandoned our educations in order to make good on the promises of salvation he had previously offered the first two of his younger brothers. We moved out to Washington state, got jobs and began the preparation.

In 1994, we two became four as we welcomed Rex and Daniel. We four became five in ‘95 as we welcomed our son, Antonio. In ‘96 we five became nine as we also took in Dashawn, Antone, Fayzonn, and Star. Those four would end up back in Mississippi with their mother, only to return to us a few years later along with their sister, Shade (shaw-day). In addition to the welcoming of our daughters, Devaney and Destiny in ‘97 and ‘99, we would be twelve strong by the year 2000. Yes, at the age of twenty-eight, we were the parents of ten children. Seven of whom were suffering with the varying effects of the choices their mother made while she was pregnant with each, as well as the ramifications of the decisions that were made afterward. Although we didn’t know very much about developmental delays, mental retardation, depression, ADHD, Fetal Alcohol Effects, and Schizophrenia, we would certainly get a crash course in the years to come.

Oh, if I didn’t know what sacrifice was before, I certainly know its meaning now. I’ m not speaking of sacrifice from our perspective either. We have witnessed a lifetime of children not having what it was they truly needed, their own mother and father. We tried to be that for them, but they could look at us with our own and were wise enough to know the difference. And what about our own? They also gave up more than we realized they would have to. Families with this many children, they don’t go on vacations, or wear Nikes, or eat at restaurants fancier than McDonalds. The sharing for them involved far more than a house, a room, a bathroom, toys, or a meal.

That leaves us here, now, starting our lives over again as the last of the siblings returned to Missisippi just a few months ago. Some left earlier than others, some graduated, others didn’t, some made right choices, one sits in a prison cell in Georgia, one will require my care for the rest of his life as Schizophrenia devastates the future we thought he would have, one is now a married woman and is quickly becoming one of those “true friends” and, ultimately, a few just had to be with their mother, regardless of the quality of care she provides, simply because she is their mother.

We have laughed hysterically, cried endlessly, loved amazingly, and worked on faith alone. Now, for the first time, we gear up for a whole new life, with just the children we brought into this world…anxious, nervous, excited, happy… ready. With the births of our fourth and fifth children, D’Angelo in ‘07 and A’Darius in ‘09, we are now complete. Our nest seems a little empty, but in the best way possible and we can’t wait…

Why You Should be Talking about Race

// October 27th, 2009 // 5 Comments » // Family Indifference

Written by Rebekah Johnson

There is an attitude among many parent-peers of mine in the DC metro area that frequently astounds me – parents I meet  feel that by being “color blind” themselves, that somehow (magically?) their children will be open-minded, accepting, and capable of navigating complicated racial situations.

FAIL!

There really is no other way to say it…it’s a huge parenting failure.  Maybe in an Utopian society we could all have the privilege of being “color blind,” but we live in the real world and only a fool thinks that color doesn’t matter on this planet.

A recent study by the Children’s Research Lab at the University of Texas backs up my POV on the subject.  Austin area families participated in a study in which the goal was to determine “if typical children’s videos with multicultural story lines have a beneficial effect on children’s racial attitudes” (http://www.newsweek.com/id/214989/page/1).

There were three groups of families involved in the study.  The first was group was sent home with just videos, the second group with videos and talking points, and the third group of families were given only the talking points.  The last two groups were told to have conversations about race with their children every night for five nights.

At this point, something interesting happened. Five families in the last group abruptly quit the study. Two directly told Vittrup, “We don’t want to have these conversations with our child. We don’t want to point out skin color.”

Vittrup was taken aback—these families volunteered knowing full well it was a study of children’s racial attitudes. Yet once they were aware that the study required talking openly about race, they started dropping out.

“We don’t want to point out skin color.”  Does that stop anyone from noticing skin color?  Does that stop children from forming opinions on their own?  In the absence of a guiding influence, children will substitute their own poor judgments, or worse, the hate-filled judgments of someone else.

The study went on to say:

It was no surprise that in a liberal city like Austin, every parent was a welcoming multiculturalist, embracing diversity. But according to Vittrup’s entry surveys, hardly any of these white parents had ever talked to their children directly about race. They might have asserted vague principles—like “Everybody’s equal” or “God made all of us” or “Under the skin, we’re all the same”—but they’d almost never called attention to racial differences.

They wanted their children to grow up colorblind. But Vittrup’s first test of the kids revealed they weren’t colorblind at all. Asked how many white people are mean, these children commonly answered, “Almost none.” Asked how many blacks are mean, many answered, “Some,” or “A lot.” Even kids who attended diverse schools answered the questions this way.

More disturbing, Vittrup also asked all the kids a very blunt question: “Do your parents like black people?” Fourteen percent said outright, “No, my parents don’t like black people”; 38 percent of the kids answered, “I don’t know.” In this supposed race-free vacuum being created by parents, kids were left to improvise their own conclusions—many of which would be abhorrent to their parents.

Are these parents really surprised?  If you have values to impart to your children about equality, it will take more than vague statements about everyone being “the same.”  Kids are smart.  They know very well that we are not all “the same.”  What they need to hear is that we are all uniquely different, and they need reasons to value that uniqueness. You, parents, need to find ways to value people of color.  Find ways to compliment and seek out positive statements to impart to your children.  Have frequent, open conversations about race.  Talk about slavery, talk about segregation, talk about miscegenation, talk about stereotypes and hurtful language…talk, talk, and then talk more!  Kids need to know what is acceptable and they need to see with eyes that are wide open, not color blind.

At first glance, the study appears to be a dismal failure.  Many of the families did not talk about race at all, or changed the talking points.  However, there was a ray of hope:

Of all those Vittrup told to talk openly about interracial friendship, only six families managed to actually do so. And, for all six, their children dramatically improved their racial attitudes in a single week. Talking about race was clearly key. Reflecting later about the study, Vittrup said, “A lot of parents came to me afterwards and admitted they just didn’t know what to say to their kids, and they didn’t want the wrong thing coming out of the mouth of their kids.”

In ONE short week, all six of those families improved the racial attitudes of their children.  By TALKING.  Imagine that.

I understand that parents are hesitant to talk about race for fear of saying the wrong thing.  I encourage you (beg, really) to try.  Seek out some material if you need it.  There are books, websites, and blogs with plenty of good advice.  The simplest (and most obvious) thing to do, is to seek out some interracial friendships of your own, and then talk to your friends about how to discuss race.  I guarantee they will be happy to help you have positive discussions about race with your children.  Also, it’s worth saying that if you espouse a desire to have children who embrace multiculturalism, and you have no friends of color, then you should practice being what you desire your children to be.  If your children never see you have a meaningful friendship with someone of another race, what does that really tell them?  Just food for thought.

What I do know, is that doing nothing is the wrong answer.  Clearly, not talking about race leaves children confused and unsure at best, and harboring racist thoughts at worst.  It’s up to parents to guide our children through complicated racial issues.  It’s time to embrace the task, rather than dread it.  What could be more affirming than to teach your children how to walk in this world, not colorblind, but with an appreciation for diversity and a sense of value for all people.

The full article with the study can be found here: http://www.newsweek.com/id/214989/page/1. It’s also posted at the Anti-Racist Parent.

Confronting the N-Word, With Love

// October 27th, 2009 // No Comments » // Friend or Faux, Social Injustice

Written by Cyndi @ CurlyKids

I wrote a blog a couple years ago about the controversy surrounding the Don Imus fiasco, where he referred to a championship basketball team of women as Nappy Headed Hos… which led to a conversation with my children about the words ho and nigger, among others. In this entry I titled Don’t call me out of name, a phrase which comes from street vernacular and means don’t label me something I’m not, I struggled with a heavy subject… how could I give my children not only the tools, but also the strength to take a stand for themselves against the lure of the n-word in peer situations. While it’s probably unlikely my kids would feel pressure to use the word themselves, I wanted to empower them to “be the change” and influence others in a positive manner to not only discourage others from using the n-word to address them, but to also reconsider their use of the word, period.

I realize that’s a mighty tall order… and from a white girl at that. Like black folks haven’t been trying to discourage their kids from the use of the word for more years than I’ve been alive. And I can get up on my soapbox with other white folks and let them have it over the n-word… cuz to paraphrase a handful of white folks who are way smarter than me… racism is a white problem. We created it, we benefit from it… we need to address it within ourselves, our families, and our communities. And I feel pretty confident in teaching my children not to tolerate for one second a white person calling them by that pejorative. But I really struggled with how to guide my brown-skinned children through the minefield of the n-word when it’s used a so called endearment or as a sign of solidarity. I’m not naive enough to think that being called a nigger lover gives me any kind of authority on what it feels like to be on the receiving end of the n-word, whether from the mouth of a white or black person… and while I know that anyone who lived through the civil rights movement and the first generation after would be hard pressed to justify or tolerate it’s use, but I guess part of me did figure that it was somehow less painful for the younger generation to hear, that whether they used it themselves or not, they were desensitized to the vulgarity of the word due to the prevalence of it’s use in music and media. I was very much mistaken in this assumption, and exactly how deeply wrong I was became very clear to me last year as my daughter first encountered the complexity of social cliques… part of the shrapnel I mention in that post was one girl’s foul mouth, including her use of the word “nigga.”

Her love is like the ocean...

To set the scene, clique consisted of half a dozen or so kids, all of whom were black except my daughter (Sudanese African & what I call Heinz 57 (Anglo/English with some Native American ancestry who grew up with a Italian & German culture) and the antagonist (African American & Hispanic) in this situation, who we’ll call Jane. Halle told me that Jane would say it mostly to the boys and that she was trying to be funny. Hearing the word was very upsetting to Halle, but even more upsetting was how no one else seemed bothered by it; in fact, the boys seemed to think it was cool.

I try not to go all helicopter parent about interpersonal conflicts with peers. I think it’s important for kids to work out their issues with each other, with parental support and guidance. This is an important part of growing up and learning how to navigate office politics… which sadly, whether you are in an academic environment or corporate America, often resemble middle school antics. So I try to let my kids to handle their issues directly with their friends, and intervene when necessary.

In this instance, I encouraged Halle to focus less on what the antagonist was doing. You can’t control Jane’s behavior… you can’t make Jane do anything Jane doesn’t want to do. But that doesn’t mean you have to tolerate Jane’s behavior. Halle talked about confronting Jane and telling her she wasn’t going to hang out with her anymore because of her language. Not wanting the bullying that had gone on earlier in the year to resume with a focus on my child, I discouraged Halle from a big confrontation. Just choose to spend your time with another group of friends… you don’t owe Jane an explanation. If she asks why you haven’t been hanging out with her anymore, or if she asks you to hang out at recess, tell her about YOU.

I’d like to hang out with you, but I feel really uncomfortable when you say [fill in the blank]. I can’t control what you say, only you can do that, but if you choose to use those words, I’ll have to go because it really hurts my feelings.

Halle seemed comfortable with this approach, but when push came to shove, she wasn’t ready to confront Jane directly, her way or mine. I had given Halle’s teacher a head’s up, but because the language was happening on the playground & cafeteria, it was very easy for Jane to drop her N-bombs without being overheard. Then one day, I found Halle at the kitchen table on the verge of tears, trying to work out a schedule for herself spending time with her friends who couldn’t get along so that she was with a different friend each day and never the same person two days in a row but there was one person who she didn’t know very well but wanted to know better and couldn’t find a place to fit them.

And when she opened up about what was really upsetting her, it was how to keep up the delicate balance of this social circle where all the girls finally seemed to be getting along, and she didn’t want to rock the boat by calling out this behavior that was chipping away at her spirit. I listened to her talk for a while, head down, eyes on her paper… but when she raised her head and I saw her beautiful brown eyes full of tears and she said to me…

Mommy, in my whole life, nobody has ever said nigger in front of me before. NEVER IN MY WHOLE LIFE.

My heart broke… I knew the day would come where my children would come into contact with the n-word in real life, and not in the safe academic conversations in our home, but it was even more bitter to have that scenario be at school, and from someone who looked like her.

That’s when I told her that I felt she had done everything she could do on her own, and that I knew her teacher had tried really hard to address these issues, and it was time for Mom to meet with the Principal of the school. I left it up to her whether she wanted to go with me, but told her the meeting would happen the week right before winter break, in hopes that the long recess would calm hurt feelings on both sides. Halle decided to go with me, and I let her tell the principal what was happening and how she felt about it… and I could see that it pained him greatly when she told him that her first experience with the n-word was at his school.

At the end of it, just having the support from her family and the school together empowered Halle to speak up on her behalf. After Jane was pulled in for a conference about Halle’s allegations (where she fessed, from what I understand) Halle told her that she had been the narc. They cried together about it and when the tears dried, they found themselves with the beginnings of a real friendship. Halle told me later that Jane told her she didn’t know why she’d even used those words (and that she got her backside warmed for it too).

My Army of ONE LOVE

All in all, I was awed and amazed by Halle’s sensitivity and strength in handling this complex situation at the tender age of nine years old. I wish that this was the only time she’ll have to deal with the n-word… or that every time would end in such a positive manner. I’m terribly afraid we just lucked out this time. But I hope this experience from this battle is one she carries with her, and gives her strength to attack the monster again, and eventually win this war.

Recommended reading: soulbrother v.2: Enslaved by Language: A Brief Archaeology of the Word Nigger

The Hintons

// October 27th, 2009 // 3 Comments » // Love and Happiness

Hi my name is Lorrie. I am 44 yrs old and live in northern California with my wonderful husband Chris and my 17 year old son, Brian. I also have a daughter who is 20, attends college and lives away from home. What an accomplishment THAT has been!…for both she and I! Both of my children are Filipino and white. I was married to their father, who is Filipino, for 16 years. The kids are more culturally white American, as their father was born in this country and never made much of a priority to embrace his parent’s culture. Other than food, not much has been passed down to them regarding their Filipino heritage. However, I can’t deny….they don’t look like their mama much. I remember once when my daughter was a baby, being asked by the receptionist at the dentist’s office if she was adopted. When I told her no (and probably acted a little shocked) she told me she thought maybe my daughter was adopted “because people like to adopt those Korean babies.”

I often was asked about my children…..”what are they?” The kids tell me now that they are older, people often mistake them for being Hispanic. Anyway, they are great kids. My daughter is studying communications and marketing in college and is growing into such a fine woman. I am so proud of her. Whoooo….it was hit or miss whether either of us was gonna make it through her senior year without killing the other, but we made it! My son is taking it easy on me this year as a senior (knock on wood!). He is going to be joining the Air Force when he graduates. Even though it makes me extremely worried, it’s something he’s been talking about wanting to do for years. Whatever he chooses, I know I will be very proud of him. He has a heart and integrity that makes my soul smile.

My husband, Chris, and I have been married a short 2 1/2 years. He is my soul mate, as cliche as it sounds. To me, it was a miracle to find this kind of love at this time in my life. Chris is black. I have a very multicultural family, so my family is very accepting of our relationship, as is his. Chris is the best step-dad to my kids and they love him. We have no issues with race within the sanctuary of our home. Of course, it’s not always like that outside in the world. For the most part, we have little problems where we live, near San Francisco. However, we have traveled a few times to see family in small town mid-west and the south and I have been disturbed by our treatment there. Racism has done so much harm to our country and it continues, maybe not as blatant, but it’s still there, much to the disbelief of those who think we now live in a post-racial America.

I am so happy to meet others with interracial marriages/families. I look forward to making some good friends!

The Johnsons

// October 27th, 2009 // 2 Comments » // Love and Happiness

Hi! I am Rebekah (Becky) Johnson and I am a 31 year old wife, mother, homeschooler, and college student. I am married to the fabulous Lonnie Johnson, 34, audio engineer extrordinaire. We currently reside in the very diverse Washington D.C., but are about to relocate to the predominantly white Las Vegas. OH BOY!

How I started this journey: Since I was old enough to date, I have considered myself to be an “equal opportunity” dater. I like MEN, and it never mattered to me if they were black, white, Asian, Latino, or anything and everything in between. ;D

I joined the Army right out of high school, and let me tell you, men in uniform are fine! When I arrived at my first duty station (Camp Humphreys, South Korea), one man in particular happened to win my heart from the very first day. He also happens to be a black man. While we were dating and newly married, we lived in what I call the “military interracial bubble.” Life in a military base is very different from life in the real world, and acceptance of interracial couplings is common. However, shortly after marrying my own soldier, we found ourselves in North Carolina and I got my first real glimpse of racial tension and hatred. Apparently I had been living a sheltered life.

It has taken me a lot of years to open my eyes to what life is like for my African American husband. We have been together nearly 12 years now, and will be married for 11 years in February (2010). We have three beautiful biracial children who are ages 9, 6 and 5; a charming little man, and two precious little girls. Being the mother of non-white children dramatically changed my life. Because of them – and my fierce love for them and my desire to make the world better FOR them – I have had to shake myself out of apathy.

I have become an advocate for my own multiracial family and for raising awareness about the racial issues that still plague America.

I have a long way to go.

The Stansberrys

// October 25th, 2009 // No Comments » // Love and Happiness

It’s me!!! Julie.. This is my beautiful interracial family. I am so proud to introduce them to you.

My name is Julie and I am a 52 (yikes!! am i really 52??..LOL). I have 5 children. 4 biological and 1 adopted. My oldest daughter is Nicole (29), Amber (28), Brittney (27) and my son Andre (24). My 8yr old daughter is Kashe and she is adopted. It’s crazy because all my bio children are bi-racial (black/white) and how ironic that my youngest (adopted) daughter is bi-racial (black/white) except her bio mom was black and her bio dad white. She fits into our family perfectly. She even looks like my daughters when they were her age. She is/was truly a gift from GOD as are/were all my children.

My children were actually born/raised in a very affluent part of Washington, Bellevue. It was 1981 when my family moved to Bellevue, WA and we were actually one of the first black families in our neighborhood. My husband/childrens’ father is black and I remember vividly as if it were yesterday when he would walk down the street in the wee hours of the morning several blocks to catch the Metro bus to work at Boeing. He was literally stopped numerous times by the Bellevue Police and was questioned as to what he was doing in Bellevue and where was he going??! (WTH???!)

My children actually never actually suffered due to doing being bi-racial in Bellevue. In fact, quite the contrary. It’s funny because we could not and did not go anywhere w/o being stopped by people asking us questions about our children. People were always saying how beautiful they were. We even had people ask us if we “permed” their hair as it was so long, beautiful and curly. LOL.. I remember when my oldest daughter was 3 yrs old a neighbor asked her if she was black or white. She looked so puzzled and simply said, “I’m not black, I’m not white, I am Nicole Michelle Stansberry.” LOL I guess she told them.

Well ladies another big thanks for always putting in so much time/effort into your blogs and web pages. They inspire me so!!

Take care,
Julie