You See Black and White-We See Love
By: Melissa O’Keeffe
At nineteen we started dating, and was faced with the reality that there were people who were fine with us being friends, but not with anything more than that. Since I was fortunate enough to have parents who didn’t see our differences as an issue themselves, and already loved my husband as their own, I felt supported enough to continue our relationship. I skipped out on the dream wedding; walking down the aisle with my family on one side of the church and his on the other. However, I still got to marry my best friend, and gave little thought to our differences.
If he were to enter my bedroom then, he would see LL Cool J posters plastered all over my wall and, even today, my man-crush Monday leans towards the Morris Chestnuts and Blair Underwoods of the world. I gave little thought to the attractiveness of anything other than black men. However, I still hung out with my white future husband everyday. He would keep me company as I babysat my sister, and I would hang out in his yard as he played basketball or chilled with his friends. Eventually, all the things we had in common and the love we have for each other brought us together. Still young, and perhaps naive, I didn’t give race much consideration.
We were married for almost two years before having a family of our own. We were still young, and outside of strangers giving us second looks when we went out and about together, didn’t have much reason to focus on the fact that we were in a bi-racial marriage. It was when I became pregnant with our first child that we began discussing race a little bit. Even then, it was just in terms of what our baby would look like. What kind of hair, what eye color, what skin tone? We still only discussed mostly superficial stuff.
Pickering and O’Keeffe grandparents with our first born
The first big decision came when it was time to baptize our son. I didn’t realize I was stalling at the time, but I was. A decision had to be made to baptize him in a Catholic Church (like my husband), or a Methodist Church (like I was). I came to the decision to baptize him in the Catholic Church. It felt like the easier decision to make, to be inclusive of both of our families, and his chosen Godparents had all grown up in the Catholic Church. So even though I was the mother, I was the odd one out as a Methodist, and it felt like I gave a little of myself away.
Years went by, and we continued to raise our family in that same mostly West Indian/black community. My husband, having grown up there himself, seemed very comfortable and accepted there still. We had two sons by then, and the support of our extended families followed. When it came time to place them in a school, we chose a Catholic School near his parents' house, in their heavily Irish neighborhood. My biracial sons were coming of age, and fully exposed to both worlds. I thought they would just take the best of both sides, develop into their own people, and that was that.
It was right about the time of Obama’s election that things started to surface. The boys were six and four when he was first elected, and in the first grade and pre-k 4. A common misconception when you are in an inter-racial marriage is that you are somehow less black or not pro-black and that couldn’t be any further from the truth. I remember speaking to my boys frequently at the time about how much having the first black president would mean to me, and to the possibilities for their own futures. I’m sure I mentioned that he was mixed, just like them, but I mostly focused on how much it would mean to me and others if a black man was elected President of the United States.
Election discussions were taking place at school as well. I’m not so sure it was in the classroom, but definitely among classmates. My boys came home with questions, and I had to dispel many myths. They also had to grapple with the idea that one set of grandparents that they loved seemed to support one candidate, while the other seemed to support the other. These weren’t necessarily race conversations, but I knew my boys wouldn’t be grappling with these issues if they weren’t bi-racial, and a little guilt set in.
As they got older, and began thinking about friend groups and where they fit in, other issues surfaced. They didn’t seem to completely fit in anywhere, and as a result didn’t seem to develop overly close relationships with anyone. On the flip side of that, they could also easily fit in anywhere (if that makes sense), which they seemed to appreciate. I remember them coming home making observations like, my white friends all try to act black and my black friends all try to act white, and trying to make sense of it all. They seemed relieved that they didn’t have to be a wannabe, but also still seemed somewhat on the outside. This just became more for a mother to worry and feel guilty about.
Over the years there were also times when they identified more with their white side and I couldn’t help feeling rejected or hurt by it. Even hearing them as little kids say something as simple as I’m not black, because they were looking at the actual color of their skin and nothing else, would sting. When I would correct them and say, yes, you’re black because your mommy’s black, they would seem confused. I would then think back to when I was young, hanging out with their dad, and remember that I gave no thought to race at that age so why would they. However, being bi-racial, I also knew that they had to think about race much sooner than I ever did. Navigating life bi-racial gave them little choice.
We have since moved from the neighborhood their father and I grew up in, although they now go to High School and still visit their grandparents there. I find it more of a struggle to expose them to my culture and how I grew up, the further I am from it. I want them to know and take pride in having a black mother with roots in the Virgin Islands. I want them to appreciate my tastes in music and food, and television and movies which, like my man-crush Mondays, still veer towards everything black. My blue-eyed, blond hair daughter screams Black Girls Rock, right along with her momma, so I must be doing a decent job of it. At the same time, I need to let them know and explore all sides of themselves. I don’t want them to ever feel like they have to choose or be less than their full selves.
The older my husband and I get, the more of our differences are naturally exposed as well. Growing up and dating we focused more on all that we had in common. As we grow and evolve as individuals, we also bring to the table all of our differences. Meanwhile, we are raising three beautiful,bi-racial children together and helping them develop into their own individuals. At the end of the day, it goes back to how it was in the beginning. My parents and his parents, the best of friends as neighbors, now raising a set of grandchildren together. While they may differ in race, religion and politics, their love for their grandchildren is the same. My bi-racial children could never deny one half of their identity, because that would mean denying their love for their bi-racial family. My children were practically raised by both sets of grandparents, and I know it’s because of that they truly know that while they are different races, there is only one love. And while life may not always be easy, raising a bi-racial family, Love Always Wins!
Share your thoughts with me in the comments below.
Melissa O’Keeffe, born and raised in the Bronx, NY, currently resides in Westchester, NY with her husband of nineteen years (and friend for a lifetime). She has worked as a human resources professional for over twenty years, but the most important humans in her life are the three beautiful children (ages 17,15, 5) she is raising in their bi-racial family.