Deborah Lipp

Over at Alas (A Blog), Rachael linked to a bunch of blogging about interracial relationships. I was struck by this very sharp observation:

One thing that really gets me frustrated when I read about interracial relationships [is] the whole normativity of same race relationships. When people marry or date people of the same race, their racial views are not interrogated; the racial nature of their relationship is not questioned or noticed largely because it is considered normal.

This struck me very strongly. In part, because one argument in favor of interracial relationships is that they should be normal; there should not be a special term for them. Mostly, though, because I think you get into a place in life where you want to feel normative. You want to get home, and kick off your shoes, and not be Other. Not be Interesting.

In a blog entry that lists reasons that black people should date each other, Racial Realist includes:

Shared Experiences/ Shared Worldview – For anyone who wants a life partner/ soulmate (as opposed to a fling/ relationship driven by enhancing one’s status), it’s natural to seek out an individual who has been through/ is going through what one has been through/is going through

I get that. It’s comforting.

When I was in my teens and twenties, I dated Everyone But the Jews. The list included black, WASP, Italian, Mexican, and I don’t know what all. It wasn’t consciously rebellious, but people who felt like family to me (Jews) felt the opposite of sexy. Sexy is Other, I thought.

Then, I dunno, I got older. And one day I noticed that familiar could be a very sexy feeling. Comforting, warm, like being held. When I met Bob, he felt like that to me; familar and sexy. (Okay, not when I first met him, but after a few weeks.) Then I found out he was black.

Now, Bob’s got a black mother and a Jewish father, so the skin is very light, the last name is Jewish, and the kinky hair and some of the facial features could go either way. So I assumed. And really, who goes up to a co-worker and says “Excuse me, what race are you?” I mean, who except rude, clueless people.

But when we approached the notion of dating, he right away said “Do you know I’m black?” (Because he’d been burned once, by a woman who dated him until she realized he was black. And doesn’t that suck.)

And I said, “That’s funny. I thought part of the reason we were attracted to each other was how we have the same background.”

And he said “It is.”

It was. Jewish, New York, liberal, parents, of a particular worldview and a particular history. We were the same. Also we were different. Like any couple I guess. You hang out cuddled up feeling comfortable and the same, and discuss and learn all the differences.

You want to be normative. You want to be in a household where no one looks at you and says “You’re Jewish?” (or Pagan or black or whatever). Safe space. One sad thing about interracial relationships is that from the outside they don’t look like they can be safe space. And one wonderful thing is that from the inside they can be.