Being Biracial & in Biracial Relationships

Note: This isn’t what I meant to write about and is basically an unedited mind-dump of a rant.  Sorry about that.

So, I’m biracial.  And I’m engaged to someone who basically represents the continent that isn’t already in my blood.  You ever hear of Josephine Baker’s Rainbow Tribe?  That’s basically what T & I are going to be producing, but without the adoption/buying/stealing of kids part.  (Especially since I have repeatedly promised him a cricket team of children.  What’s that, like 12?  My mom bred the cricket gene out of me – you’d never know based on my complete lack of interest in that sport that I’m actually partially West Indian.)

https://jerseybride.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post-new.php

Me in 15 years.

Rockstar side of being biracial: Loving Day is celebrated every year, which is basically one big “biracial rocks” fest.  In the Baha’i faith, we’re basically the most awesome-est thing ever.  I’ve got a tan in winter.  When I travel abroad, everyone thinks I’m from the country and don’t try to screw me when I’m haggling for stuff in the markets.

Non-rockstar side of being biracial: When I was a kid, people asked my mom where she got me from.  People make racist jokes around me forgetting that I’m going to be personally insulted.  People judge me based on BS reasons (I’ve been accused of being “light, bright, and almost white;” not “black enough” (wtf does that mean anyway); people assuming that I’m trying to be something I’m not – admittedly, this is usually people who have had few or no minority friends before meeting me and for all intents and purposes need to pull their head out of their ass and realize they don’t know what they’re talking about if their only exposure to “black culture” has been through BET).

I don’t deal with the non-rockstar stuff too often.  As Sam Watson so eloquently describes here, racism is something that’s become America’s dirty little secret – we might keep our crazy in the living room for the whole neighborhood to see, but we keep our racism, bigotry, misogynism, and antisemitism up in the attic or down in the cellar, something to bring out when the “right sort of people” come over.  Sometimes it’s brought out in front of the wrong people by mistake – the person making black jokes in front of my white mother not realizing her husband was black and her daughter is mixed – and then it’s all apologizes and a mental note that despite her pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, she’s the “wrong kind” of white person – the kind who consorts with The Others.

The wrong kind of person often looks like the right kind of person.

As I’ve mentioned briefly before, I don’t have a great relationship with my future mother-in-law (MIL).  The fact is, I don’t have any relationship with her.  I used to want to, but I’m kind of over it now – it’s been 6 years, she obviously is not interested, and I couldn’t keep driving myself crazy.  Which brings me to another non-rockstar mixed thing – doubt.  “Why am I not good enough?  Would it be different if I were Indian/Malayali?  Will the MIL be as disinterested in my kids s she is in me?  Will she come to the wedding?  Will we ever have any kind of relationship?  Will the MIL ever acknowledge me?  Is it true it has nothing to do with my race?”

Doubt sucks.

T & I are crafting/creating what I hope will be a beautiful wedding, mixing his culture with mine to make something beautiful and classic and gorgeous with a dash of exotic influences, and I wish his mother were involved.  I have Indian friends who are glad to offer advice, and I can’t express how awesome that is, but it would be really great to show her my saree or the flowers or something and get her input.  To be able to ask about the traditions from their culture and determine how to best incorporate them into our wedding.  T is a pretty typical guy and has vague ideas about what should happen in a Mar Thoma ceremony – his mother would be a great resource for me, and instead I’m relying on Google and Wikipedia.

It would also be nice to know that I was being welcomed into T’s family as my family and friends welcome him.

But I’m not.

Le sigh…

Oh, and btw, Mel Gibson can suck it.

Here’s the blog that started this rant: Run, Racists, Run! Biracials Are Everywhere!

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Comments
One Response to “Being Biracial & in Biracial Relationships”
  1. 23 says:

    Woman on the picture looks like “secret Nazi-Agent” , somethink like Eichmann’s partner

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