So… I Married a Black Man

Ah – this might be the most ranting you may get from me… Ever.  But, I’m just going to say it… or maybe not… or dare I?  It is taboo, isn’t it?.. Ok, here I go..  “So I married a Black Man..” and I’m not Black.  And honestly – I could care less what his ethnicity is, I’m already having enough trouble fitting in with my own culture.

I may be oblivious to any looks or stares we may or may not get.  I hear this happens sometimes.  When I come across pictures of famous interracial couples on Facebook or Instagram (Kevin Hart & GF, Eddie Murphy & Wife.. etc.), I deliberately ignore the Comments Section. And when I meet new African American people, I try to speak more properly than I usually do so I don’t get the “you’re trying to be someone you’re not” smirk.  Which is ridiculous. But I feel I need to.

So, if I constantly have my blinders on, why am I even writing about this?

Because there are some people who are bold enough to just blatantly say “so… you married a black man” or “____ is a popular African American ______” (insert educational key points here).  I recently had a conversation with an African American coworker – about work – and out of nowhere she says “I know you are in an interracial relationship, and I accept that”.  To which, I stopped her and asked, “How is this even related to the topic?” Even in this 21st Century, there is no measure of “want” that will allow me to escape the subject of race in my relationship.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect my husband and his culture.  In fact, I embrace it.  But, honestly, I’m having enough trouble fitting into my own culture – and that is where my focus lies.  Perhaps my intent on ‘fitting in’ is only to benefit my children and generations beyond… but now I’m going off on a tangent.

This is my viewpoint on dating/marrying a Black man (or even if he was a White man… anyone but Asian)

Keep in Mind:

~ My parents raised me to be more “American”, meaning they spoke to me in English

~ Now that I live in a city with less than a 3% Asian population, I struggle to keep the culture my family scarcely instilled upon me. (no knock on my parents, they were doing what they knew best in raising me as an American)

~ Trying to raise my kids as Filipinos is a huge struggle because I am only going by memory, not the people around me.

~ When I’m introduced to any Filipinos in the community they usually follow my name with “she doesn’t speak Tagalog” – in Tagalog.

~I have been divorced and am no longer Catholic. (which is still somewhat taboo)

He loves me for me. And he could be Green, for all I care. I love him too

So, for every looker, “smirker”, questioner, commenter, and even the sincerely concerned about anyone in an interracial relationship:  Every relationship has it’s own story – why they found each other, fell in love, endured struggles together.  And I can pretty much guarantee that it wasn’t because of the color of their skin.

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1 Comment

  1. Sadly, we all struggle trying to fit into something here in America. It’s a part of our everyday life, but if you can somehow get a revelation of the Kingdom of God and who you really are, then everything else will seem juvenile and petty.

    You are a daughter of the Most High King, you have royal blood flowing through your veins, you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a special person ransomed by Him, you are more than a conquerer, you sit in the heavenly places with Him, you have a divine purpose, and you are an ambassador sent by Him to proclaim His praises to a lost and dying world.

    The world always wants to pulls us down to its level, but we need to walk in who we are, not in who others think we are.

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