Run, and Don't Look Back

Interracial relationships can be a blessing, can fill your life with new perspective and adventure, but they can also be hard. My experience in marriage has been pockets of time that, sometimes years in a row, where toxicity from external sources never pops up, only to be followed by an incident that brings the focus right back onto the differences and difficulties. We've been married for eleven years now, and, praise God, we've never had internal toxicity regarding race. But sometimes, I think that the long stretches of ease lull us into a false comfort zone that makes the racism and toxicity feel like it comes out of nowhere, when we probably should have been expecting it.

It could be a micro-aggression, a little snide remark or insinuation, especially hurtful if it's from someone who knows us. Or it could be full-blown hostility, especially with the way racial issues are ramping up these days, and especially in Florida. But, again, thank God, we have each others' backs. However, a recent story on Twitter reminded me that not everyone is so lucky.

Sometimes the call is coming from inside the house.

Sorry for the language there, but it really expresses her pain. I can't even imagine the hurt. I wonder if this woman had signs leading up to this, red flags that she either didn't see or ignored, and I remind myself that I've missed a few red billboards in the past, so no judgment. But, and I've said it before, interracial dating or marriage does not make one anti-racist. It doesn't even mean the person is simply not racist. There are a lot of reasons why a white person might choose to date or even marry outside of their race, and, as counterintuitive as it might sound, racism is one of them.

I actually hope that doesn't make sense to you. I hope that idea makes you scratch your head in bewilderment, because that might imply that the racist reasoning here is just irrational, and you're too good a person to think that way. But I've seen it so many times. Let me break it down.

If a person thinks of the romantic relationship as a partnership between equals, two souls connected by the bonds of love and attraction, together seeking mutual goals as well as supporting each other as individuals, then the idea of choosing a mate with racist intentions seems stupid, counterproductive, as well as obviously evil. On the other hand, consider that not everyone approaches relationships that way. There are a lot of wicked folks out there whose primary goal in dating or marriage is finding someone they can dominate. If that's their mindset, then it makes perfect (evil) sense for them to choose someone they think is inferior, beneath them.

In the situation this woman posted, she's been dating this man for three years, and yet it took this accident to really bring out the racism in him. He reacted harshly, not just with anger for someone who damaged a possession of his, but with the full force of his racism poured out on someone he thinks of as inferior. Nobody says that racial slur out of anger who hasn't already said it many times out of a racist mentality.

Here's the punchy pull quote in case you're just skimming this post:

The fact that this bullet is loaded in the chamber means it's already part of his arsenal. The girlfriend says that this guy has never said anything racist before in three years of dating, but I'd bet, at least I hope, that she's been replaying a lot of conversations in her mind lately to test that theory. Even if it wasn't specifically racist, how can she get away from the idea that he thinks of her as inferior? 

So here's my advice to this woman, this child of God, and anyone in the same predicament:

Turn that ship around and head back to port, because you're just seeing the tip of the iceberg.

Run, and don't look back.

Head for the hills, whence cometh your help.

Seriously.

She's not married to this person, and doesn't seem to have any kids for him, which is a blessing. Otherwise, it would be a whole lot more complicated. As it is, she can break up with him, block his number and socials, and knock the dust of him off her feet. 

To be clear, it is not her job to fix this, if it can be fixed at all. It is not incumbent upon her to put herself in the way of emotional danger one second more. She doesn't have to figure out how to let him down easy, or weigh the pros and cons, because, I guarantee, she hasn't seen even half the cons yet. It takes a few seconds to break up with someone who isn't your spouse, and there's a whole lot of life on the other side of that conversation, too much to spend one more minute attached to him. I'm not saying it would be easy. If they're living together, I hope she's got family or friends, a place to go immediately for shelter and encouragement enough to face the days ahead. 

Some might point to his excuse about stress, and I would refer them to the classy pull quote in the box above. Even if I bought that line, which I do not, why would I want to be involved, maybe even married, to someone whose go-to reaction to stress is to pour racist vitriol on their partner? Over a truck? Others might point to how sorry he was afterwards, how affectionate. Of course he is, because that's classic abusive behavior. They brutalize someone, and then stroke the wounds they inflicted to keep the victim on the hook. What really happened is a racist, abusive partner dropped the facade a little too soon, before he had a firm legal grip on her, and she got a glimpse of what he really is. The proper reaction when you see the wolf's teeth sticking out from under the sheep's skin is not to consider your options, or to try to look at it from the wolf's perspective, with all the stress he's under. The proper response is to run, rabbit, run. 

Lastly, for anyone considering getting into an interracial relationship, I want to emphasize that this is not normal. There will be plenty of issues and obstacles, but this ain't supposed to be one of them. This is not something to work through, or go to counseling together to resolve. This is a dealbreaker, something to flee from. There are too many threats from outside to have to worry about threats from the person who's supposed to be fighting for and beside you.

The Butcher, The Baker, The Memory Maker

Every Saturday, I do the grocery shopping in the morning, and I take the littles with me. It gives my wife some quiet time, and we genuinely love those times together. Our eleven-year-old doesn't come any more, because she's too big for such shenanigans now, so she stays home and gets her chores done. But back in the day, when she was young and didn't care what people thought about her, she used to love grocery shopping day. These days, it's just me and the four-year-old, except on those weekends when our granddaughter sleeps over, when it's two four-year-olds. Once again, that's me and two (2) four-year-old girl BFF's who haven't seen each other for a couple of weeks.

It starts around nine or ten in the morning with a treat. Usually, it's a doughnut or a muffin, but some days require a full breakfast from the drive-through. When our four-year-old was too young to know the difference, and, more importantly, too young to tell on me, we used to get some fancy stuff, but lately, we've been trying to save money to move into a new place, so we've scaled back considerably.

With our breakfast treats eaten and bodies sufficiently energized for the grocery run, we jump out at our first stop. See, one of our money-saving tactics is using two different grocery stores - the cheap one with four letters in the name for everything we can get there, and then Publix for anything else, and especially the sale items. 

If you don't have a Publix near you, I feel bad for you, son. Moment of silence.

Anyway, if I had to choose two words to describe grocery shopping with the littles, those words would be - beautiful chaos. There's lots of singing and dancing involved, lots of exciting adventures in the produce aisle, and lots of opportunities to meet new people who may or may not like little kids. The chaos amplifies on those sleepover weekends, as does the beauty. When they were too small to walk or keep up on foot, they used to sit in the cart together and sing their nursery rhyme songs at the top of their lungs, call out the numbers and letters they see like Sesame Street characters, and greet every single person they see.

It's hard to explain what these greetings involve, because I don't want to give the impression that they just say "hello" to people. It's more like an observation mission, but out loud. Basically, they name what the person is doing or call out some interesting fact about their appearance. It's led to a lot of conversations about boundaries and indoor voices and how some people are different. I really want to believe those conversations have been fruitful in teaching them how to interact with people, but just a few weeks ago, they saw a man wearing an eye-patch, and one of the girls is super into pirates, so ....

Another example of what I mean by "greetings" just happened this weekend when a woman passed us in the aisle and my daughter asked me, quite loudly, if I was "looking at that woman." 

I gave up on holding hands almost a year ago, and just let them run free, because that's less stressful for all of us. There are some rules, however, and the penalty for breaking them is time out in the shopping cart. The rules are as follows:

1) Stay out of people's way, and say excuse me if you make a mistake.

2) Don't get in front of my cart, or I might run you over.

3) Also, don't get behind me, or I might step on you or fall over you. There's a zone near my hips and beside the cart that's a safe area.

4) Don't touch anything without asking, and if it can break, don't even get near it.

As wild and loud as they can get, they really don't break the rules, much.

Now, within those rules, there's lots of room for fun. Some examples of this are as follows:

1) Using bananas as phones and shout/talking to each other about ordering pizzas while giggling uncontrollably.

2) Using bananas as magic wands and casting spells at each other while giggling uncontrollably.

3) Using bananas for almost anything and giggling uncontrollably. It's a good thing I can use bruised bananas in my smoothies.

4) Pretending to be Spider-Man villains, and running up to strangers, shouting things like "We're doing evil!" and "We have evil plans!", except none of the strangers have any idea what they're talking about. 

5) One girl talks to the characters on the cereal boxes and the other does their voices in return.

6) Taking a number from the butcher's station, even, and especially, when we're not getting anything from the butcher.

7) My favorite game is when we're at the cashier. It's called "Stay in the Square," and the girls have to pick a square tile to stand in without talking and without stepping out. Whoever steps out loses. Best game ever.  

But it's not all fun and games. There are a lot of valuable life lessons involved as well. The most obvious is that they learn that we make a meal plan, a grocery list, and stick to that list when we go grocery shopping. We buy healthy food because it's good for our bodies. The girls get to pick one drink for everyone, and one candy for everyone, but every other item in the cart has a purpose. 

They learn to talk to the bakers and the butchers and use their manners. In Publix, where everything is more expensive, but nobody rushes you and everyone is really nice, they give away cookies and stuff to little kids. The girls have to walk up to the counter on their own and say please and thank you, and if they know the bakers' names, call them Miss or Mister. If the butcher isn't too busy, they can ask for a slice of cheese or ham or something, and practice patience, empathy, and manners over there. Honestly, they get so much free stuff everywhere they go, just based on the fact that they're two adorable, well-behaved, but chaotic little girls with brilliant smiles.

They learn the names of all the fruits and vegetables, and everyone seems so impressed that they can name every single item in the produce section - the artichokes, radishes, scallions, cabbages, dragonfruit (another giggly favorite), carrots, and bell peppers. I do sometimes wonder if the other shoppers would be as impressed if they had to walk around with them every week while they name every single item in the produce section, but I'm glad it gets them positive attention.

Another thing they learn on these trips, at least in their own little ways, is how they fit in the world, how often people will have expectations of them, and how important it is to know who they are so that those expectations don't define them.

One other game they like to play with people is something we could call "what are you?" It starts when somebody assumes that they're sisters. Maybe it's one of the bakers who asks, "Does your sister want a cookie, too?", because my granddaughter can be a little shier sometimes. See, they don't look alike, at all, except that they're clearly about the same age (just eight months difference) and clearly very close. They're both mixed, but my daughter is very light-skinned with blue eyes and tight curls, while my granddaughter is brown-skinned with brown eyes and long, thick hair that's barely wavy. Still, most people ask if they're sisters, and they answer with a loud "NOOOO" and a bunch of giggles, because they know what's coming and it's one of their favorite games. Then starts the guessing.

"Cousins?"

"Nooooo." Giggles.

"Friends?"

"Nooooo." Giggles.

This is when the stranger runs out of guesses, gets that stumped look, and asks, "Then what are you?"

One of them, usually my daughter, the more outgoing one, grabs the other and shouts, "She's my niece/auntie!" Deluge of giggles.

The person looks from them to me, because it's probably unexpected, and also because they act so silly and play so many jokes on people as it is. That's when I confirm and tell them a little about our family.

If I'm being really honest, the whole morning takes a lot out of me. Aside from the actual chores of the shopping, and at two different stores even, there's the mental energy of keeping track of the girls, although they're hard to lose, with all the non-stop singing and giggling. They have a million questions about what they see and what they want. Then, if they've behaved themselves in the grocery store, they get to spend ten minutes in the pet store next door looking at animals they can't have, petting other people's dogs (after asking first), and creating havoc over there as well.

Those poor birds must hate to see those noisy kids coming.

But despite the fact that I need to lay down after we get back and put the stuff away, I wouldn't trade that time for anything. If my granddaughter is coming over at all on Saturday, I ask my daughter to bring her before we head out, so she can come too, and I've been known to delay the trip until she gets there. It's not like going to Disney World or camping or any of those other trips and activities that we think of as bonding times, but I know we're making memories. We don't spend any more money than we normally would on groceries, and we talk about boring stuff like healthy foods, budgets, and good manners, but we have fun together, and the girls get to explore their community and learn how to interact with all sorts of people. As much as it saps my energy, I look forward to it every week, and I know the girls do, too, and the people at the stores seem to brighten up when we walk in.

The birds, not as much.