Although my guess hit the mark, when my friend told me his wife was indeed Caucasian, I felt my spirit...wince. African people worldwide are known to be welcoming and open-minded.
Relationships are not (anymore, at least) a collectivist act.They really come down to two individuals doing business in ways that we will never be privy to.They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a bad idea to blow the rent-check on school clothes.They go to bed with someone who does, or doesn't, think it's a priority to keep the living room clean.But what matters isn't what Scott doesn't know, but what she thinks she does--that he's African People.
As much as my own limitations allow, I sympathize with race and the constructions of beauty standards, just like I sympathize with race and its effects on the justice system.
"Black people" didn't support me while I was trying to make it a writer.
An individual, with her own specific hopes, dreams and problems, did those things. But the qualities that allowed her to do those things--compassion, commitment, vision--are not "black" qualities. But we often take this abstract, hazy view of an institution that, like anything else worthwhile, is mostly about dirt, work and tedium.
I admit when I saw his wedding ring, I privately hoped.
But something in me just knew he didn't marry a sister. My body showed no reaction to my inner pinch, but the sting was there, quiet like a mosquito under a summer dress. Did the reality of his relationship somehow diminish his soul's credibility? One could easily dispel the wince as racist or separatist, but that's not how I was brought up. I was taught that every man should be judged by his deeds and not his color, and I firmly stand where my grandmother left me.
My new friend is handsome, African-American, intelligent and seemingly wealthy.