Our three readers should be able to handle a controversial topic. It’s not like I’m disparaging the Olive Garden or anything.
We are bloggers of action, and we can handle anything short of the infamous n-word being offered as a term of endearment.
Note: fringes has no problem actually spelling out the n-word because she likes to avoid confusion [”what’s the n-word?”], but Q would probably let the confusion remain rather than spelling it out. We each have our own history with the word and different reasons for being offended by it. Which brings us to the controversy:
What is your reaction to seeing an interracial couple or family while you’re out just trying to live your monochromatic lives? Or if you happen to be one of the interracial couples, does it still bother you for some weird reason?
I admit to this: if I am out with my white boyfriend and we pass by a black girl with her white boy, I don’t think twice about it. Q will usually notice and point it out very casually. But if I see a black guy with a white girl, I feel a little knot in the pit of my stomach. Why is that? I don’t want that guy, and more power to him and his blonde girlfriend with her back tattoo. Maybe, though, I am also thinking that he doesn’t want me, and that is what gives me the twinge of rejection, the knot in my belly.
My father has given up on me. He no longer asks “what’s up with the white boy?” after six years of a black boy drought in dating introductions. No matter that my brother hasn’t dated a black girl in nearly 15 years. My brother’s lovely wife is as blonde as they make ‘em. Why is my dad looking to me?
Q and I may receive a few death stares when we go out together. We are careful to avoid gun shows, monster truck rallies and Waffle House, so we aren’t really putting ourselves in potentially sticky situations. Although there was this one strange incident at the movies the night American Gangster opened. Maybe the crazy lady wasn’t upset at our priority seating in a 700-seat theatre leaving her and her man only 698 other seats to choose from, prompting her to flip us off not once but, like, three times before the previews started. Maybe she was upset at the whole black-white thang. Who knows.
Do you know?
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