Two bodies in the mirror: one's me, the other's you,
with two far different cultures some say will bring just strife.
A DIFFERENT SHADE OF LOVING, a different color of life.
Valentine's Day is a reminder that though love comes naturally, it's not without obstacles.
Given America's apartheid legacy, interracial romance has historically been taboo, scandalous or confined to back-door liaisons. As recently as 1967 Southern anti-miscegenation laws criminalized having intimate relations with or marrying someone of another race.
if you think America's beyond all this, consider that a Louisiana justice of the peace denied an interracial couple a marriage license in 2009. A Cheerios commercial depicting a black-white couple and their biracial child elicited complaints in 2013. Interracial love portrayals are still rare enough to make news. Hollywood treatments range from treacly (Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?) to melodramatic (Monster's Ball) to sophomoric (Guess Who?) to banal (Something New).
Whether your interracial poster couple is Kim and Kanye or newly elected New York City Mayor Bill De Blasio with his black wife and their biracial children high profile images such as these reinforce the emerging mosaic. The phenomenon is real, not hype. In 2012 the Pew Research Center found interracial marriages in the U.S. reached a record 4.8 million or an all-time high of 8.4 percent of all U.S. marriages. More recent Pew studies find broad acceptance of interracial coupling among all major racial-ethnic groups and the increase of biracial children blurring color lines as never before.
This organic movement is a result of individuals pairing off according to the law of attraction, not social constraints.
Even when mixing risked not just gossip or indignation but danger and imprisonment, it still went on. Some couples openly defied convention and ostracism. Some challenged race laws in court. It seems human heart desires trump artificial efforts to keep different persuasions apart.
There's also the intrigue of exploring the other side. Online adult sites promote interracial hookups that range from romantic dates to one-night-stands to paid sexual encounters.
When it comes to amour, anecdotal currents say race is not a driving factor for mixed couples though it can be for those around them.
Five metro couples, all variations of black-white twosomes, recently shared their stories. None of the individuals involved went looking for a partner of another race, it just happened. While their relationships are not racialized, race is an undeniable factor in their lived experience.
Emily Pearce and Travis Mountain are 30-somethings who each dated interracially before getting together. He has two children from previous relationships, including a son whose mother is white. Emily, a fitness instructor and elementary school vocal instructor and Travis, a U.S. Marine veteran, personal trainer and rapper, are parents of a girl, Rebel Mountain.
They're keenly aware being interracial matters to some.
"I do think it makes a difference to people," Emily says. "I don't think we'll ever live in a post-racial world, honestly. Neither of us thinks of us as being in an interracial relationship but other people do, and it does bother me."
"As far as interracial couples, like it or not it's something popular now," says Travis, aka Aso. "It's just more accepted. If people do have a problem with it it's more just kept to themselves."
"It does get thrown in your face ," Emily says. "If you go somewhere without a lot of diversity you do get looks."
She says at some schools she's taught at black women staffers became unfriendly when they discovered she was dating Travis.
"They treated me differently. They were nasty to me."
"Her dating me has opened her eyes about how differently she's treated by dating somebody that's black," Travis says. "Black women hate to see 'a good black man' date a white woman because they look at it like you're taking that black man away from our community but I don't look at it that way.
"People want to put you in a category and it's so stupid."
The two hail from widely divergent backgrounds. She's from an intact middle class family in Enid, Oklahoma. He was the only male in a single mother-headed home in North Omaha projects. She says her educator parents brought her up to be color-blind and never had an issue with her dating outside her race. He says the matriarchs of his family disapproved of interracial dating but didn't have a problem when he did it. Each feels accepted by the other's family.
"It's like homosexuality – you can have a problem with it if you want to but what happens if it's your brother or your kid? So be careful what you're really hating because it might just happen to you," says Travis.
"Neither of us set out to be in an interracial relationship, we just liked each other and we really balance each other out and I think it is because of the totally different experiences we have," says Emily.
Dell and Lena Gines are another 30-something couple. They too faced little family resistance. She's white and he's the product of interracial parents. Together 23 years, Dell and Lena have five children. They feel America's moved forward on race but has far to go.
Lena, a fitness instructor, says Dell's parents have "shared some of their struggles and we definitely didn't have to go through the same struggles. I think their generation kind of paved the way a little bit. It's come so much further from even when we were dating. Seeing that progress is encouraging but it's very slow."
"It's going to take more time," says Dell, senior community development director with the Omaha Branch of the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City. "I've never met somebody that's past the race thing but I know people who are comfortable with interracial relationships while acknowledging the race thing. I do think we're more aware of race and are more willing to recognize people can get together and function in relationships regardless of race."
Dell grew up in multicultural northeast Omaha, where he says he came up with "tons of mixed kids." Self-identifyng as black, he and his biracial friends dated both black and white girls.
"It was a normal thing."
Lena didn't grow up around people of color. Her first interracial dating experience was with Dell, whom she took for Middle Eastern. When she discovered he was black, she says, "I didn't think it was that big of a deal."
For them, it's never been about race. "We fit and that was it," she says. Dell says, "I think it's very important to note our similarities outweigh our differences."
"I didn't even think about the racial thing until he came to my family's Christmas party, where everybody else was white and I was like, 'Oh, this looks different.' Then he took me to an African-American church and it was like reversed," says Lena.
The couple intentionally reside in North O for the diversity it exposes their biracial children to.
One of the few times someone confronted her about being with a black man was when a woman at a hair salon called Lena a n_____-lover.
"It took me by surprise," she says. "That's when it kind of became real. I didn't have any friends, black or white, who had any issues with it, but I had other black women say things to me like, 'You're taking one of ours' and 'Why don't you leave him to us?'"
Dell says racial baiting is "past the tipping point" now that interracial relationships are trending up, adding. "East of 72nd it's such a common sight. Maybe if I lived out west I would have a different experience. You're rarely going to hear it from black guys anyway. You're much more likely to hear it from black girls. I've never had anybody actually come up to me and challenge or question me on that. I would dare anybody to say anything about it to my face."
He believes intermixing will create a new racial narrative in America.
"You're going to have kids like me or my children identifying along lines that aren't so clear anymore. It's going to change the way people look at race and ethnicity. It has to. Once you can get past identifying people as a class or a group and you identify them as individuals then it's hard to keep gross intolerance in play.
"The rise of interracial relationships is going to force change because it means families that probably haven't intermixed now have to. When you meet people on that basis then you begin to see things other than ethnicity or race."
Ron and Twany Dotzler make their 33-year mixed marriage and large rainbow family – they're parents to 14 – a living symbol of inclusion and tolerance through their Abide Network and Bridge Church.
The mid-50ish couple met at now defunct Tarkio (Mo.) College, where both played basketball. He came from insular all-white rural Iowa. He was naive about his own prejudice and the plight of Black Americans. She came from an almost exclusively black Washington D.C. neighborhood and the discrimination her family endured made them wary of whites. Twany says she once couldn't conceive of being with a white man because "I just couldn't see what two people from different backgrounds would have in common."
When they got together in the early 1980s his family had no problem with his choice of mate but many residents of his hometown did.
"A lot of people were outraged. A big uproar."
Twany's family opposed their union. It took time, but acceptance came.
Each partner also had to work on their own racial hangups, especially when they began having children.
The family's encountered welcome and disdain. The first few years the Dotzlers were married they lived in Broken Bow, Neb. They moved to the burbs, where Ron says, "Everybody seemed to accept us." After entering the ministry the pair committed themselves to mission work. North Omaha became their calling. Racial incidents began happening.
"We were at a restaurant in Fort Calhoun and this guy at the bar yells, 'Hey, you n––––r, yeah, you n––––r, get out of here.' At a church picnic one of my kids goes to kick a ball and another kid kicks it and says, 'Aw, go get it n––––r."
When the couple applied to have their kids attend a small Washington County school local residents turned out en mass at a school board meeting to oppose their admission.
"Other families had been accepted. Our family had been rejected. We were denied access to the school," Ron says.
"That was a real blow," Twany says. "They didn't want us to come."
Overturning fear-based perceptions is what the Dotzlers do through Abide sponsored home renovation projects, neighborhood cleanups and justice journeys that bring diverse people together.
"I think that's why I love what we do," says Twany. "We can be a bridge to expose people to those differences, to people who may not think like you do, act like you do, look like you do, yet if you can just be intentional about getting to know them through relationships you'll see what we do have in common and what we can do together.
"It's all relational – seeing a person different from you and being able to value them right where they're at. We've been getting people together to build relationships, to break down those denominational walls, those racial walls, those economic walls, for a long time. When you have to be together for a long period of time you learn some things about yourself and about others."
Somehow some folks are threatened by what we represent,
Although to make a statement was never our intent.
When Michael and Cassandra Beacom began dating in the '80s he was not only a newbie at interracial romance but to people of color having grown up in white-centric Keystone and attending white Catholic schools. Moving with her father's Union Pacific job, she was exposed to both integrated and segregated environs. She dated mostly black guys in college, though a white boyfriend did propose marriage.
The Beacoms fell head over heels upon first meeting at a party. When they became a couple not everybody approved.
"The girl that introduced us was not thrilled with us being together," Cassandra, says, "so you find out who your friends are or at least their viewpoints anyway."
"Some friends said we support you, we're behind you all the way," Michael says, "and some others cut and ran or had their thing about it."
He says her parents were cool but while his folks liked her as his friend they were "definitely not prepared" for him to have a black girlfriend.
"They said horrendous, horrible, evil, terrible things, to the point where I understood I would have to be saying goodbye to my family."
Nothing negative was said to her, an administrative assistant with the Omaha Public Schools, only to Michael, a senior agent at PayPal.
"They gave him all the grief, they didn't give me the grief," says Cassandra, who adds she only found out much later the extent of his family's unease.
Rather than cause a scene, the couple eloped and kept their marriage secret. Michael says, "I was terrified." When Cassandra got pregnant with their first child, the family embraced her. The big wedding the couple put off was finally held. She and her late father-in-law became close and she's tight today with her mother-in-law.
Their biggest hurdles with race have been with institutions. They say racist assumptions forced their son into foster care before a court intervened. That separation trauma still hurts. As do double standards that have seen her treated one way because she's black and him another way because he's white. Then there's the times people assumed they couldn't possibly be a couple.
Union for Contemporary Art founder-executive director Brigitte McQueen Shew upsets expectations in northeast Omaha. Not only is she a mix of African-American and Iranian-Chaldean, she's married to a younger white man, chef Tim Shew.
"I have run-ins with people who say I'm not black enough to understand the African-American crisis. I do feel because of my work here, my advocacy for North Omaha and the fact I live in this community there's an element of surprise when people realize my husband is not African-American. This is nonsense. Could we stop doing this to each other?"
The couple's experience differs from that of her parents, whose extended families wanted nothing to do with Brigitte and her siblings.
"We were the yellow kids with funny hair. We were different and were always treated as such."
She says she's glad things have progressed to where she and Tim don't have to go through what her interracial parents "went through in the '60s," adding, "It's interesting how much of a non-issue that factor is in our relationship."
Brigitte, who grew up in Detroit, dated interracially from the jump.
"Race is not a criteria. It's not something I think about, it's more about personality and who the person is than what color they might be," she says. "With my mom it never mattered. I had moments with my siblings where it was like, 'Why is it you always seem to be dating white guys?' It wasn't an issue, it was more of an observation. I don't think anybody would say that if you were dating someone who was blonde or brunette. I realize not everybody has that sort of blindness to it."
Tim, who grew up in west Omaha, was curious about brown girls but never did anything about it until Brigitte. Their families have always been fine about their relationship. She says the only time her race has come up with them was at a birthday party for one of his nephews.
"I made a chocolate cake. We were all at the table and I was sitting across from this sweet little boy who said, 'Why are you the same color as the cake?' Some people were really embarrassed and Tim's brother totally defused things with, 'I'm glad somebody finally asked that question, I've been wondering that since you started coming around.' It was just this perfect moment."
The Shews plan to have children one day. Though aware biracial kids can have a tough time they take solace in the fact their families and friends don't hold the prejudices earlier generations did.
"I'm excited for our child to be part of the family we've created," she says. "It's a brilliant thing."
We sense their eyes upon us:
the glance, the stare, the gaze.
Some puzzled, some condemning, some burn with inner rage.
With but a few accepting, some hurl the jagged knife.
A DIFFERENT SHADE OF LOVING, a different color of life.
Lyrics are from "A Different Shade of Loving" by Mick Terry.
Read more of Leo Adam Biga's work at leoadambiga.wordpress.com.