It seems like everywhere my husband and I go, people stare at us. At first I might have passed it off as there must be something on my face or in my teeth, I eventually came to my senses and realized it wasn’t that simple. I guess the reason why people couldn’t remember that staring is rude is because I’m black and my husband is white. Yeah, you heard me, an interracial couple. What the hell is the big deal you ask? What year do you think this is, people!!! I personally witnessed a lot of change in my 20+ years of life, I thought we were past something as insignificant as interracial dating. Apparently, with all the stares we get, I am either a celebrity or I am very wrong.
I’m Black, My Husband Is White, Quit Staring Already!
As a self-conscious teenager, I hated the feeling of other people staring at me because in my mind that translated to them judging me. The stares that we get out in public still gets under my skin on a bad day, but I try not to let it consume me. I keep my eyes forward and go about my day like they are not even there. My husband tends to stare down most of the rude people and their judging gazes. Half of the time it ends up becoming this staring contest and I’m not sure if the winner will be satisfied after the match. This has become part of our lives so much so that we usually don’t talk about it, but just glance at each other.
There are times when I can feel someone burning a hole through the back of my head and it takes a tremendous amount of self-control not to turn around. If I did it would probably go something like this, Hi, I can tell your staring because you think I’m famous, but no I am not Beyonce, sorry. Or, I recognize you! You came into the CVS pharmacy I used to work at for your monthly herpes medication, didn’t you? Instead, I simply ignore them and keep on walking (every once in a while I smile right at them and wave).
The fact that I found my prince charming, yes I am a Disney baby (guilty as charged), is a miracle in and of itself. Perfect strangers that have a problem with who I married mean nothing, but the staring has gotten old already. I never had a clear picture of what my prince would look like, but I knew exactly how he would make me feel whenever I was with him. Safe, loved, heard, appreciated, respected, and adored. The fact that he is white is barely mentioned in our story, well except in the very beginning.
I was 21 years old when I met my husband and smack dab in the middle of a rebellion I had been postponing since high school. Victor was funny, easy to talk to, had a kind smile, and just happened to live in the same apartment complex as me. He made me laugh and always made me feel welcome. As time passed and we grew closer, our friendship began to develop into something more. That’s when the race card reared its fat, ugly head and demanded attention. When it came down to it, the only problem we could come up with is the opinions of other people. We liked each other because of who we are and the fact that I’m black and he’s white are two words in a 500-page novel. After taking a step back to appreciate the book as a whole, we found no reason that ANYONE would have a problem with our relationship.
Five years later, we had a civil ceremony and became husband and wife. Our lives became one and it changed for the better. My dream of finding prince charming actually came true and I am so happy that it’s him. No matter how the world looks at us, they can only see through the window, but they have no idea what goes on inside.